Perhaps
she would be wealthy yet, and more than his equal socially, and then she
could condescend, as a great lady, and put a treasure in those poor
gloved hands. Where would they all have been without these hands, all
scarred and blistered to save them from death? Everybody was very unkind
to little Marjorie's Eugene, and failed to recognize his claims upon
their gratitude. Oh, that saucy little minx, with her grand assumptions
of proprietorship, as if she owned him, forsooth!
Mr. Bangs called the justices to business. There was a prisoner to
examine, and two charred masses of humanity for the coroner to sit upon.
So a messenger was sent off to summon the long-suffering Johnson,
Newberry, and Pawkins, for the coroner's inquest, and the doctor was
carried back into the office for the examination of the prisoner, Mark
Davis. The two Squires sat in appropriate chairs behind an official
table, at one side of which Mr. Bangs took his seat as clerk. Constable
Rigby produced his prisoner, loaded with fetters. "Has this man had his
breakfast, Rigby?" asked the Squire. "Certainly not, Squire," replied
the constable.
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