go than be sacked; then, old Waydean, he's took the notion that I dressed up his pig, and Joe Wrigley says he's gone to swear out a summons." His manner was so coy, so engaging, so innocently virtuous and forbearing, that I[Pg 217] could not refrain from an encouraging smile; somehow I seemed to know exactly how he felt—perhaps I, too, in some previous state of existence, had found it expedient to appear to know less than I did know. [Pg 217] "What became of the pig, William?" I asked, in a tone that conveyed, I fear, more sympathy than reproof. "After you drove off so fast," he replied, "it turned onto the Stone Road, with old Waydean close behind, and that was the last I seen of them, but Joe Wrigley says they met a funeral near the Stone Road Cemetery, and there was a regular circus; after it was over I seen people drivin' past here lookin' as if they'd been at a Punch and Judy show." I smiled appreciatively, feeling a softening toward William in view of the entertainment he had provided, but I saw it would be wiser for him to leave than to wait for Peter's revenge. There was one more point that puzzled me. "How did you fasten those boots on the pig?" I asked. [Pg 218] [Pg 218] There was a momentary triumphant gleam in his eyes, then they opened wide with innocent frankness as he spoke. "Joe Wrigley says there was a wad of graftin' wax in each one, and the longer they were on the tighter they'd stick. Joe says——" "William," I interrupted, "why do you keep saying that Joe Wrigley says this and Joe Wrigley says that, when you——" One eyelid slowly curtained an eye. "You see, Mr. Carton," he said, in a half-whisper, "if you don't know nothin' but what Joe says, you don't know enough for evidence, nor too much for your own good, and if that old sinner makes law trouble you can't swear to anythin' but hearsay. Joe says it's like a sort of judgment on him, for it'll take as long to get the feathers and wax off that pig as it'll take new feathers to grow on them chickens. He says there ain't but three ways of gettin' that kind of wax off: bilin' in kerosene, freezin' in a ice-cream freezer, or leavin' it to nature and the habits of pigs." "Well, William," I said regretfully,
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