Minister Graves' city home, the Rectory, was a magnificent house, covered with a thick growth of ivy; one bay window ornamenting it on the west, another looking on the street.
The first evening in November, the family was seated about the table, the minister reading the evening paper. "Babe" was arguing with her mother that all little girls should be allowed to roller skate upon the pavement; that "there wasn't a bit of danger in it."
Frederick was silently eating his dinner--Teola following his example. Suddenly the minister ejaculated: "Ah, that's good."
"What's good, father?" inquired Mrs. Graves.
"Skinner is brought to trial to-morrow. The paper says there isn't the slightest hope for him to escape. And listen to this: "Of all the happenings in the annals of the Ithaca courts the following is the most extraordinary. Orn Skinner, the squatter, who is to be tried this week for the murder of Emery Stebbins, the game warden, is the father of a girl some fifteen years old. The day after his incarceration the girl presented herself at the office of the sheriff, asking permission to see her father. The sheriff thought wiser not and refused the request. But the night before last the girl was discovered ascending, like a squirrel, the thick growth of ivy that covers the stone structure of the jail. For nearly a month she has been tramping the Lehigh Valley railroad tracks after dark, reaching the jail at midnight, and holding converse with her father on the stone sill of his cell window, two stories above the ground. The girl was closely questioned but refused to answer, probably fearing the consequences of visiting a prisoner without the consent of the sheriff. Skinner has been removed to an inner cell, the authorities fearing some plan of escape. The girl is very pretty, with long red hair, and brown eyes, and those who have seen her say that she is like a frightened rabbit, refusing to talk with any, save a few of her kind."
The Dominie grunted, as he finished reading.
"I should think they would remove him to an inner cell," said he. "Such goings on! The girl ought to have a taste of the rawhide."
"Maybe she loves her father and wanted to see him," ventured Babe, who had no reverence for paternal opinions.
"Love, love," retorted the Dominie, "all the love those people have in their lives you could put in a nutshell."
"Her father's trial comes up to-morrow--I wonder if they will allow the girl to attend."