"I only
wrote my own name."
"Your name, Eliza, but he read mine."
"Yes, but the pen was bad, you see, and my name looks so like yours,
when it's writ carelessly, and the 'a' is a little quirked, and I
wrote it carelessly, papa. Please forgive me. I didn't want to have
you killed, and I quirked the 'a' a little."
The Rhadamanthine frown on Dwight's face yielded to a very composite
expression, a look in which chagrin, tenderness, and a barely
perceptible trace of amusement mingled. The girl instantly had her
arms around his neck, and was crying violently on his shoulder, though
she knew she was forgiven. He put his hand a moment gently on her
head, and then unloosed her arms, saying, dryly,
"That will do, dear, go to your mother now. I shall see that you have
better instruction in writing."
That was the only rebuke he ever gave her.
CHAPTER TENTH
GREAT GOINGS ON AT BARRINGTON CONTINUED
When Perez and the men who with him were in the act of advancing on
the jail, were so suddenly recalled by the cry that the people were
stoning the judges, Prudence had been left quite alone, sitting on
Perez' horse in the middle of the street. She had no clear idea what
all this crowd and commotion in the village was about, nor even what
the Stockbridge men had come down for in such martial array.
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