[Ill.u.s.tration: Cat drinking from saucer.]

VII

When the grand jury dispersed after Mr. Peaslee's confession, Farnsworth, first speaking a few words to Paige, the state's attorney, hurried toward the Union School. As he expected, he met Miss Ware coming from it on her way to her boarding-house.

He waved his hat, and called:--

"Jim's free!"

As he reached her side he added, "He didn't fire the shot at all."

"Of course he didn't!" cried Nancy, triumphantly. "Didn't I tell you? But who did, and how did you find out?"

"Peaslee," said Farnsworth. "He owned up."

"Mr. Peaslee! Then that awful harmonica--Why, the wretch!"

"Sh!" warned Farnsworth. "Not so loud! These are jury-room secrets which I'm not supposed to tell."

But he told them, nevertheless. As the two walked along together, he gave her an account of all that had happened.

"But what I don't understand," he concluded, "is what made Jim behave so. What did he clean his gun for? Why did he hide the rags and put away the ammunition? He acted just as if he were trying to shield some one. We know he wasn't trying to shield himself, and I don't see why he should shield Peaslee."

"Fred!" said Nancy, stopping and facing him. "Jim knew that his father was the only person in the house, didn't he?"

"Yes," said Farnsworth.

"Then he thought his father did it!"

"O pshaw!" exclaimed Farnsworth. "He couldn't!"

"Don't be rude, Fred!" admonished Nancy. "Wasn't I right before?

Well, I'm right now. How could he have thought anything else? I'm going straight to the jail and find out. And can we get him away from that jail?"

"Yes," said Farnsworth. "I spoke to Paige. He said he'd bring the boy in and have him discharged this afternoon. He has to appear before the judge, you know, before he can be let go."

"That's nice," said Nancy. "Now, Fred, you go straight to Mr.

Edwards and bring him up there, too. I don't suppose any one's thought to tell him."

"But I haven't had any dinner," objected Farnsworth.

"Dinner!" exclaimed Miss Ware, in deep scorn, and Farnsworth laughed and surrendered.

They separated then. Miss Ware took the side street to the jail, while Farnsworth hurried along toward Edwards's house.

"Mr. Edwards," he said, when that gentleman appeared at the door, "Miss Ware wants you right away at the jail," and as he spoke he was struck with the strain which showed in the man's face. "He must have felt it a good deal," he reflected, with surprise.

A sudden fear showed in Mr. Edwards's eyes.

"Jim isn't sick, is he?" he asked.

"Oh, no!" replied Farnsworth, hastily. "He's cleared, that's all.

We'll have him out of jail this afternoon."

"Cleared?" repeated Mr. Edwards, distrustfully. Was Farnsworth joking? Nothing was more certain in the father's mind than that Jim had fired the shot. No other supposition was possible. His face grew severe at the thought that Farnsworth was trifling with him.

"Yes, cleared!" said the young man, somewhat nettled. "We have absolute, certain proof that Jim hadn't anything to do with it."

"I should like to hear it," said Mr. Edwards, coldly.

"Well, we have the real offender's own confession," said Farnsworth, irritated at the incredulity of the man. What was the fellow made of?

Mr. Edwards said nothing. He turned and got his hat, and walked with Farnsworth up the street the half-mile to the jail. His face was impa.s.sive, but his movements had a new alertness, and Farnsworth noted that he had to walk painfully fast to keep up with this much older man.

Edwards, in spite of his cold exterior, was a man of strong feeling, and there was, in fact, a deep joy and a deep regret at his heart.

He knew with thankfulness that he had a truthful and courageous son.

He saw with pa.s.sionate self-reproach that he had done the boy a great injustice. But why, why had Jim cleaned the gun?

Farnsworth, little guessing the turmoil in the heart of the grave man by his side, was wondering if, after all, Miss Ware could be right in thinking that Jim had sacrificed himself for this unfeeling parent.

"If she is right," he reflected, thinking how harsh had been the father's treatment of the boy, "what a little brick Jim is!"

He had a very human desire to present this view and p.r.i.c.k this automaton into some show of life.

"Mr. Edwards," he said suddenly, "Jim knew, didn't he, that you were the only person besides himself at home?"

"I suppose so."

"Does it occur to you that he may have thought you did the shooting?"

"That can't be so," said Mr. Edwards; but there was a note of shocked concern, of dismay, in his tone which satisfied Farnsworth, and again he thought more kindly of his companion.

And Mr. Edwards was stirred by the unexpected question. After all, he thought, since Jim was not trying to shield himself, whom else could he wish to shield? And a sudden deep enthusiasm filled him for this son who was not only courageous and truthful, but who, in spite of his unjust treatment, was loyal, who--he thrilled at the word--loved him! But no, it was not possible! How could his son have thought that he could accuse his boy of what he had done himself?

And upon this doubt, he found himself with a quickened pulse at the door of the jail. Farnsworth rang the bell. Soon they stood in Mrs.

Calkins's sitting-room, facing Jim and Nancy. And then Miss Ware caught Farnsworth by the arm and drew him quickly into the hall, and shut the door behind her.

"I'm certain!" she whispered, breathlessly. "When I told Jim first, he wasn't glad at all, until I managed to let him know his father wasn't arrested. O Fred, that boy's a little trump!"

Meanwhile, in Mrs. Calkins's sitting-room, father and son faced each other, and it would be hard to say which of the two was the more embarra.s.sed.

But certain questions burned on Mr. Edwards's lips.

"Jim," he said, with anxious emotion, "did you think that _I_ shot Lamoury?"

"Yes, sir," said Jim.