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Cory was a man who 'had a way with him, and I can see Claudine flattered at the idea of being peace-maker between 'two such nice gen'lemen as Mr. Cory and Mr. Fear. Her commonest asseveration quite genuine, too is that she doesn't like to have the gen'lemen making trouble about her! So the poor imbecile led him to where her husband was waiting.
All that Happy knew of this was in her cry afterwards. He was sitting alone, when Cory threw open the door and said, 'I've got you this time, Happy! His pistol was raised but never fired. He waited too long, meaning to establish his case of 'self-defence, and Fear is the quickest man I know. Cory fell just inside the door.
While reading such words the streets of Salem rise before the eyes, with the cart dragging Martha Cory to the gallows while she protests her innocence, and there, at her journey's end, at the gibbet's foot, stands the Rev. The sequence of cause and effect is sufficiently obvious.
Cory amused himself with the composition of a History of England, or rather a long essay thereon, which was very little read and falls completely out of the ordinary conception of such a book, but is distinguished by an exceptionally good and scholarly style, as well as by views and expressions of great originality.
"The organist told me," announced Bud at supper, "that he was agoin' to train my voice, and I could be soloist at Grace Church and git five dollars a Sunday, and after a while I could git ten." "You'll be a millynaire," prophesied Bobby in awed tones. "Guess we'll be on Easy Street now," shouted Cory. "We won't be nuthin' of the kind," snapped Amarilly. "It's agoin' to all be banked fer Bud."
"Baby's asleep now," she said in a subdued voice, "and I'm going to take you to bed. You won't mind, Jack, will you? Come, dear," and she slipped her hand under his arm to lift him from his chair. Garry rose from his seat. "All right," he answered assuming his old cheerful tone, "I'll go. I AM tired, I guess, Cory, and bed's the best place for me.
One man, named Cory, stoutly refused to plead to the preposterous indictment against him. As was the practice in such eases, he was pressed to death. It is told of the Sheriff of New England, who superintended the execution, that when this unhappy man thrust out his tongue in his mortal agony, he seized hold of a cane, and crammed it back again into the mouth.
Cory had gone in town that afternoon, not to return until the late train, and it so happened that the doctor did not come home to supper; so there was no one but Sarah to notice the depths into which Patricia was plunged. For Patricia never did anything by halves. "Is yo' sick, honey?" Sarah asked anxiously, when Patricia refused a second piece of chocolate cake. Patricia shook her head.
Mose felt a sudden touch of the same disgust which came upon him in the presence of his father's enforcing affection. He arose. "Now, Cory, see here; don't you waste any time on me. I'm no good under the sun. I like you and I like Pinkie, but I don't want you to cry over me. I ain't worth it. Now that's the God's truth.
The Tocsin was quoted on street corners that morning, in shop and store and office, wherever people talked of the Cory murder; and that was everywhere, for the people of Canaan and of the country roundabout talked of nothing else.
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