“I am going to the bottom of this affair,” said Colonel Ross, as he
sipped his second cup of coffee at the breakfast table the next
morning. “The Gilbert boy must suffer the consequences of his crime.”
“Will he be sent to prison, pa?” inquired Philip.
“It is a State’s prison offense, my son,” answered his father.
Was it on Harry’s account that Philip suddenly turned pale and looked
nervous? I cannot credit him with a sufficient amount of feeling for
another. He could not help recalling the fact that it was he and not
Harry who had been guilty of this State’s prison offense.
“However, the thing can’t possibly be traced to me,” he reflected,
somewhat more comfortable in mind. “I don’t know as I care whether
Harry Gilbert goes to prison or not. He is very proud and stuck-up, and
it will take down his pride.”
“I commend your decision,” said Mrs. Ross, to her husband. “In my
opinion, mercy would be misplaced in such a case as this. The boy who
is degraded enough to steal is likely to continue in his criminal
course, and the sooner he is punished the better.”
There was something in this remark, also, that made Philip wince.
“Where will Harry Gilbert be tried?” asked Philip.
“Before Squire Davis. I directed the constable to carry him round there
at nine o’clock this morning.”
“May I go, too?”
“Yes; your testimony will be needed to show that the boy was prowling
around our house on the evening in question.”
“Very well,” answered Philip, with satisfaction. “I’ll go along with
you.”
“Do so, my son.”
As it was not yet time to go to the office of the justice, Philip
stepped out into the yard, where Tom Calder, the stable boy, was
washing a carriage.
“I guess I’ll tell him the news,” thought Philip. “Tom,” he said,
“we’ve discovered who stole the bonds the other night.”
“Have you?” asked Tom, with a queer smile.
“Yes. Would you like to know who it is?”
“Uncommon.”
“It’s Harry Gilbert.”
Tom Calder pursed up his lips in genuine amazement, and emitted a
shrill whistle.
“You don’t say!” he exclaimed.
“Yes,” said Philip, complacently. “The governor had the house
searched—Widow Gilbert’s, of course—and he found the bonds there.”
“That beats all I ever heard!” ejaculated Tom.
“Oh, it doesn’t surprise me at all!” said Philip, carelessly. “I’ve
long suspected Harry Gilbert of being dishonest.”
“I don’t believe it, for my part,” said Tom, manfully standing by a boy
who, on more than one occasion, had done him a favor. “Harry Gilbert is
as honest a boy as there is in town.”
“Your opinion isn’t of much importance,” said Philip, in a tone of
superiority, “and it won’t save the Gilbert boy from going to State’s
prison.”
“Do you mean to say the one who took the bonds will have to go to
State’s prison?”
“Yes; that’s what father says, and he knows a good deal about the law.”
“Maybe he’ll change his mind,” said Tom Calder, in a peculiar tone.
“When is the trial coming off?”
“This morning, at nine o’clock, at the office of Squire Davis.”
Tom nodded his head thoughtfully, but only said:
“Are you going to be there?”
“Yes.”
“What time is it now?”
“Quarter past eight.”
“Somebody else will be there,” said Tom to himself; and Philip left him
and went back into the house.