Karl Krinken, His Christmas Stocking

“Sue laid down her knife and fork to laugh at him, though the doing so had very near made her cry again.

“‘Please take some chicken, Roswald!’

“‘I’d rather not. I’ll take a piece of pie with you presently.’

“‘I should think chicken was enough,’ said Sue; ‘you needn’t have brought me pie.’

“‘I wanted some. It’s a mince pie, Sue. Do you remember that day after to-morrow is Christmas?’

“‘Christmas!—the day after to-morrow!’—said Sue. ‘No, I had forgot all about Christmas.’

“‘What shall we do to keep it?’

“‘Why nothing, I sha’n’t,’ said Sue, meekly. ‘I shall not eat porridge, Roswald. O if father could only come home—that would be enough keeping of Christmas! We shouldn’t want any thing else.’

“‘I’ll tell you how it’s going to be kept out of doors,’ said Roswald; ‘it is fixing for a fine fall of snow. The air is beginning to soften and grow hazy already. I like a snowy Christmas.’

“‘With snow on the ground; but not snowing?’ said Sue.

“‘Yes, both ways. Now, Sue,—have you another plate? or will you take it in your fingers?’

“Sue ran off for plates.

“‘How I wish I could give some of this to father!’ she said, as she tasted her first bit of the pie. ‘How will he get anything to eat, Roswald?’

“‘They will take care of that,’ said Roswald. ‘He will have a good dinner, Sue; you needn’t be concerned about it. If they didn’t feed their jurymen, you know, they might have no jury by the time the cause was got through, and that would be inconvenient. Hasn’t he been home at all?’

“‘No.’

“‘They do sometimes let them come home,’ said Roswald; ‘but in this case I suppose they are keeping everybody tight to the mark.’

“‘Why shouldn’t they let them come home at night?’ said Sue; ‘what would be the harm? They must sleep somewhere.’

“‘They are afraid, Sue, that if they let them out of sight, somebody may talk to them about the cause, and put wrong notions into their heads; so that they won’t give a true verdict.’

“‘What is a verdict?’ said Sue.

“‘It’s the jury’s decision. You see, Sue, all the people—all the lawyers, on both sides,—will bring all the proof they can to show whether Simon Ruffin did or didn’t shoot Mr. Bonnycastle. One side will try to prove he did, and the other side will try to prove he didn’t. The jury will hear all that is to be said, and then they will make up their minds what is the truth. When they are ready, the judge will ask them, ‘Gentlemen, are you agreed upon a verdict?’ and the foreman will say, ‘Yes.’ Then the judge will ask, ‘Is the prisoner at the bar guilty, or not guilty?’ and the foreman will say, according as they have decided, ‘Guilty,’ or ‘Not guilty;’ and that answer is the verdict.’

“‘And then he will be hung!’ said Sue.

“‘If they find he is guilty, he will; but they don’t condemn him; that’s the judge’s business. The jury only decide what is the truth.’

“‘Why must they have so many men to do that? why wouldn’t one do as well?’

“‘It would, if they could be always sure of having a man who couldn’t and wouldn’t make a mistake. It isn’t likely that twelve men will all make the same mistake.’

“‘And must they all be agreed?’ said Sue.

“‘They must all be agreed.’

“‘And if they are not, the man can’t be hanged?’

“‘No, nor set free.’

“‘I’m glad of that,’ said Sue.

“‘Why, Sue?’

“‘Because, if father isn’t sure that man is guilty,—I mean, that he shot Mr. Bonnycastle,—he won’t let them do anything to him.’

“‘It’s well you can’t be a juryman, Sue; you would never let any rogue have his rights.’

“‘Yes, I would,’ said Sue, gravely; ‘if I thought he deserved them.’

“‘I wouldn’t trust you,’ said Roswald. ‘I should like to have you on the jury if I was standing a trial for my life. You’d be challenged, though.’

“‘Challenged!’ said Sue.

“‘Yes.’

“‘What is that?’

“‘Why, Simon Ruffin, for instance, might say, ‘Mr. Peg is an old enemy of mine—he has a spite against me; he would not be a fair judge in my case.’ That would be challenging your father as an improper juryman, and he would he put out of the jury.’

“‘But father isn’t anybody’s enemy,’ said Sue.

“‘No, I know he isn’t,’ said Roswald, smiling; ‘but that’s an instance. Will you have some more pie, Sue?’

“‘No, thank you. I’ll put these things away, and see if mother wants anything; and then, if she don’t, I’ll come down, and we’ll talk.’

“While Sue cleared away the dishes, Roswald mended the fire.

“‘You may as well let the table stand, Sue,’ said he; ‘we shall want it again.’

“‘Why, are you coming to eat with me again?’ said Sue, laughing.

“‘I dare say I shall, if your father don’t come home,’ said Roswald.

“Sue soon came down-stairs, for her mother luckily did not want her; and the two drew their chairs together and had a very long conversation, in the course of which Roswald gave many details of his stay at Merrytown, and enlightened Sue as to the charms and beauties of a country village. Sue looked and listened, and questioned and laughed; till there came a knocking up-stairs, and then they separated. Sue went up to her mother again, and Roswald left the house.

“The room did not look desolate any more, though it was left again without anybody in it. There was the chest-table, and the contented-looking fire, and the two chairs. All this while we shoes lay in the corner, and nobody looked at us. It seemed as if we were never to get done.

“The fire had died, the afternoon had not quite, when Mrs. Lucy came again. Her knock brought Sue down. She had come to bring another little pail of soup, and a basket with some bread and tea and sugar.

“‘Don’t spend your money, my child,’ she said; ‘keep it till you want it more. This will last your mother to-morrow, and I will see that you have something stronger than porridge.’

“‘O I have, Mrs. Lucy,’ said Sue, with a grateful little face, which thanked the lady better than words; ‘I’ve got plenty for I don’t know how long.’