He is a desperate young scoundrel." "But he isn't dead, father!" said Mrs.Pemberton, as she knelt upon the cold ground, and felt the pulse of the insensible boy.

"He is only stunned." "I am sorry for it.

If it had killed him, it would have served him right," added the squire, who had suddenly become as bold as a lion--as bold as two lions.
"Come, father, let's carry him up stairs, and put him to bed." "Do you think I am going to do anything for this young scoundrel!" exclaimed the squire, indignantly.

"Why, he stoned Fred and me to-day, and stoned the horse, and made him run away and break the chaise all to pieces." "But we mustn't leave him here in this situation.

He may die." "Let him die." "But what will folks say ?" The more humane wife evidently understood the weak point of the squire, for nothing but slavery and the Southern Confederacy could have induced him to set at defiance the public sentiment of Pinchbrook.
"Well, carry him up stairs then; but he never will get out of my house till he has been severely punished for his crimes." The squire and Fred took hold of the senseless form of poor Tom, and carried it up stairs, where it was placed upon the sofa in the sitting room.