A Romance of Billy-Goat Hill

								

the water.”
“He--he oughtn't to have gone away?” said Miss Lady, looking at the
Doctor interrogatively.
“Donald, you mean? Certainly not, it was most ill-advised, probably some
quixotic idea about not wanting to testify against his friend. If you
knew the boy you would understand what a hot-headed, harum-scarum person
he is. He was my pupil at one time and I grew quite fond of him. He has
ability, undoubted ability, but he is a ship without a rudder; he has
been drifting ever since he was born.”
“This acquittal of Mr. Dillingham puts the blame on--on him, doesn't
it?”
“Naturally. His absence at the trial was undoubtedly one of the
strongest arguments in Dillingham's favor. Mr. Gooch tells me that the
counsel for the defense took especial pains to throw suspicion upon
Donald. The case has been confusing in the extreme, the absence of
witnesses, the failure to establish the ownership of the pistol, the
absurd complication about the slot machine and crowbar,--an absolute
jumble of contradictory evidence. As for Donald Morley's being guilty,
it's absurd! He is not the sort of man who runs away from punishment.”
Miss Lady's heart swelled with gratitude. Of course Donald Morley was
nothing to her now. She had assured herself of that so continuously for
two months that she was beginning to believe it. She knew that he was
wild, reckless and unreliable, that he had failed her in her greatest
need, and that she had put him out of her life forever. But it was good
of the Doctor to take his part!
“I know now what my father meant when he said you were the justest man
he ever knew!” she said timidly, lifting a pair of shining eyes.
“Unfortunately for Donald the Court does not share my opinion. It is not
known even by the family as yet, but Mr. Gooch tells me that Donald has
been indicted by the grand jury.”
“Indicted!”
“Yes, he can never return to Kentucky without standing his trial. It is
a serious affair for him, I fear.”

CHAPTER VIII

When in the course of the morning Uncle Jimpson started to the station
to meet Mrs. Sequin, he did not have to direct the course of his steed.
Had old John not known the way from experience, the inherited memory of
his ancestors would have prompted him to turn twice to the right, once
to the left, and pull up at a certain corner of the station platform.
For the honor of being the Carseys' “station horse” had descended to him
from his father Luke, whose father Mark had in the days of prosperity
traveled in harness with Matthew, fulfilling that same important
office. Thus John was, in a way, enjoying the distinction of apostolic
succession.
Arrived at the station Uncle Jimpson stepped jauntily around the
post-office box and ostentatiously took out the Carseys' mail. It was a
small act to take pride in, but in lieu of more important duties it had
to serve. For the past six weeks the advent of city people at Thornwood