“Stop and think, Thad.  Take the case of that Jean Valjean, for instance.  Now, he underwent a complete change of heart, and from being a beast, hating humanity, he grew to love other people, and be ready to sacrifice himself to save another.  You remember how he voluntarily gave himself up to the law in that courtroom scene, just to save a miserable wretch who was about to be punished under the belief that he was the genuine Jean Valjean.”

“Yes, but Hugh, he was unknown when he fought his battle, and won out.  Besides, he had the money he received for the silver the priest gave him, with which to get a start in the world.  But Nick here is known, and people point their fingers at him with scorn, and talk openly about his playing another of his pranks.”

“That was just what I had in mind when I spoke, Thad.  Nick has the harder row of the two to hoe.  And if he wins out he’ll deserve a lot of praise, I tell you.  But see who’s coming along here in a rig, will you?”

“Why, it’s good old Deacon Winslow, the blacksmith weather prophet; and, Hugh, isn’t he beckoning to us right now?”

“Just what he is; let’s cross over and see what he wants with us,” Hugh immediately went on to say; for, as has been intimated before in these pages, he had come to feel a great interest in the brawny smith, and wanted to cultivate a closer acquaintance with him; there was something so genial, so wholesome about the owner of the crossroads smithy.

“Jump in and go along with me, lads,” sang out Mr. Winslow, as they came up.  “I’m bound around to the home of Mrs. Disney on a little errand; and, since you two are interested, I thought you might like to help me explain to the poor woman that I want to go on her boy’s bail.  It’s a shame he has to stay in the lockup all this time, waiting for his trial to come off.”

The chums exchanged quick looks.

“How about it, do we go along, Hugh?” asked Thad.

For answer the other hopped up alongside the deacon, and, of course, Thad did likewise.  Since the Disney home was not far away they were quickly at the door, and knocking for admittance.

Leon’s mother answered the summons.  She looked frightened at seeing the huge bulk of the blacksmith there, and the two boys with him.  But no sooner had he spoken in his kindly fashion than the anxious expression fled from her pale face.

“Please excuse me for dropping in on you, Mrs. Disney,” said the deacon, after they had been ushered into the humble sitting-room, where a wood-fire burned on the hearth; “but I just couldn’t stand it any longer.  I want to stand bail for your boy, so you can have him home again with you till his trial comes off.”

Leon’s mother looked embarrassed.  She twisted her apron in her nervous fingers, and seemed very near the point of tears.

“Oh! it’s kind of you, Deacon Winslow, indeed it is!” she finally exclaimed, as she looked up at the smiling, sympathetic big man; “but, after all I think it is better that Leon remained where he is though it almost breaks my heart to say it.”