n with
questions, somewhat to the bewilderment of the old gentleman, who could
not distinctly grasp the idea that Nate was self-constituted protector
in place of the man he was accused of murdering.

He flung his eager queries at Mr. Dalton, and more gently pelted Joyce;
and the one or two "boys," who had been admitted to his cell, departed
with the dazed consciousness that, instead of finding out "all about it"
from Nate, as had been their intention, he had kept them busy telling
insignificant home events, until they were pumped dry of every drop of
knowledge they possessed.

But when the door opened that gray morning, and a little figure swathed
in black came slowly in, Nate scarcely moved. He sat still on his bunk,
staring at her till she threw back the long veil, and said
reproachfully,

"Nate!"

"Is it really you, Lucy?" he asked, slowly rising and making a step
forward. "I never see you like this. I most thought 'twas your ghost.
Set down, child. 'Tain't much of a place, but----" He drew out the one
chair they allowed him in the narrow cell, and, as he placed it, Lucy
caught his rough hand between her own.

"Nate, aren't you glad to see me?" she cried, fresh tears springing to
her already overtaxed eyes.

He looked down at her, nodded gravely, and then laughed a little.

"Why, in course I'm glad, Lucy! You know that without tellin', don't ye?
I ain't much on talkin', Lucy, but you know me."

Lucy stayed as long as they would let her, while Joyce and George sat on
a stone bench in the corridor. The visit seemed short to them, but the
turnkey was impatient long before the half-hour was up, feeling himself
_de trop_ all around. After the strangeness wore off, something of the
old natural friendliness came back into Nate's manner, and Lucy's tears
ceased to flow, as her tongue wagged ever more cheerfully.

They talked entirely about the little home-doings--Tilly's streak of
facility in washing dishes without breakage; Rufie's month's record in
school; the big baby's latest attempt at the English vocabulary; and the
little baby's first tooth. Lucy told, too, of Joyce's kindness and
constant oversight, and of Dalton's promise that her father's pay should
not be stopped this quarter at least. Scarcely a word of the tragedy
between them, or of the trial before Nate.

Just as she was leaving, however, she said timidly, "Shall I come in to
it, Nate--the trial, you know?"

"Guess likely you'll have to, my girl.