“But he wont come here,” said John; “he has carried it into court, and the grand jury has presented you, and the judges say you must be there to-morrow morning at nine o’clock for your trial.”
“I don’t care for the grand jury, nor none of ’em,” said Jane; “I wont go to court; I’ll go off into the woods first, and stay a week, or stay till the court is over.”
“But you can’t do that,” said John. “I’m under bonds of ten pounds to carry you to court to-morrow morning.”
“You under bonds!” said Jane; “I should like to know what business you have to be under bonds to carry me to court?”
“I had to,” said John, “or else the constables were coming right over here to take you and put you into confinement to-night. So I had to give a bond of ten pounds that you should be there to-morrow morning.”
“Well, I can’t go,” said Jane; “you may pay the ten pounds.”
“But I can’t pay it,” said John; “I could not raise it any way in the world.”
“Well, what’ll they do if you don’t pay it?” said Jane, “and I don’t go to the court?”
“They’d put me in jail,” said John, “till it was paid; and that would be longer than I should want to stay there. So you’ve got to go to court to-morrow morning, and that’s a settled pint.”
When John said any thing was “a settled pint,” Jane always knew the thing was fixed, and it was no use to have any more words about it. So she sat down and gave herself up to a hearty crying spell.
When morning came, John tackled up his wagon and took Jane in and carried her to the General Court. When he arrived, the court-room was already full of spectators; the judges were seated by the long table, and Mr. Davis was there with his wife and daughter and hired girl. The case was immediately called, and the prisoner, being put to the bar, was told to hearken to an indictment found against her by the grand jury.
The clerk then read the indictment, and ended with the usual question; “Jane Andrews, what say you to this indictment, are you guilty thereof or not guilty?”
“I don’t know nothin’ at all about it, sir,” said Jane, “any more than the child that’s unborn; as for that are firkin of butter that I sold to Mr. Davis, if there was any stones in it, they must be put in by somebody’s else hands besides mine, for I packed it all down myself, and—”