"Rouse up, neighbour," he said in a kind voice; "you have still much to
do for your son. Secure a good lawyer to defend him. The use of a
lawyer is not to get him off, if he is guilty, but to take care that he
is not condemned unless his guilt is clearly proved. The expense will
be great. I will share it with you."

"You are too good; I don't deserve it, Farmer Grey," answered Mark.
"And yet I would not have my son condemned, if he can be got off."

"And I would not have him condemned, if he is not guilty," said the
farmer.

Farmer Grey went into the town to secure legal advice. His satisfaction
was very great to find that the gamekeeper who had been shot was not
dead, and that the one who had been knocked down was in a fair way of
recovery. Still the magistrates had committed Ben and three other men
to prison; and even if the man who was shot recovered, if Ben was found
guilty, he could not expect less than a sentence of transportation for
fourteen years. Still the news he had to take back to Mary was better
than he expected.

STORY ONE, CHAPTER 6.

Neither Mark Page nor his man, Sam Green, had been in the habit of
attending public worship. Many years, indeed, had passed since Sam had
last attended. Now Mark was ashamed to go, and Sam could not. They had
not either had prayers in their families, nor did they pray privately.
It seems strange that any men should think that they can get on without
prayer. They find out their sad mistake when the day of trial comes.
These two men did so; had it not been for Farmer Grey and for Mary, they
would have been badly off indeed.

Mark Page went about the mill, as usual, and got a man to do Sam's work;
but he never went outside the gates; and when he was in his own house,
he sat with his head bowed down and his hands between his knees, not
speaking a word. Sam Green lay on his bed, and growled and groaned with
pain, except when Tiny Paul, his grandchild, was with him; then he
cheered up and spoke pleasantly, and even laughed at what the little
fellow said or did.

Tiny Paul was a bright, merry little chap, with light curling hair and
blue eyes. He would sing, and talk, and play, all day, and tell
grandfather stories, which no one but Sam himself could understand. Sam
smiled when he saw Tiny Paul, but at no other time. "If I had always
had Tiny Paul with me, I don't think that I should have been so bad as I
am," said Sam to himself; but Sam was wrong.