"It may not be true, my dear. I hope it isn't, but, as I told Mr.
Lightfoot, it is always better to believe the worst, so if any surprise
comes it may be a pleasant one. Somebody told him in church--and they had
much better have been attending to the service, I'm sure,--that Dan had
gotten into trouble again, and Mr. Lightfoot is very angry about it. He had
a talk with the boy before he went away, and made him promise to turn over
a new leaf this year--but it seems this is the most serious thing that has
happened yet. I must say I always told Mr. Lightfoot it was what he had to
expect."
"In trouble again?" repeated Betty, kneeling by the bed. Her hands went
cold, and she pressed them nervously together.
"Of course we know very little about it, my dear," pursued Mrs. Lightfoot.
"All we have heard is that he fought a duel and was sent away from the
University. He was even put into gaol for a night, I believe--a Lightfoot
in a common dirty gaol! Well, well, as I said before, all we can do now is
to expect the worst."
"Oh, is that all?" cried Betty, and the leaping of her heart told her the
horror of her dim foreboding. She rose to her feet and smiled brightly down
upon the astonished old lady.
"I don't know what more you want," replied Mrs. Lightfoot, tartly. "If he
ever gets clean again after a whole night in a common gaol, I must say I
don't see how he'll manage it. But if you aren't satisfied I can only tell
you that the affair was all about some bar-room wench, and that the papers
will be full of it.
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