A man, shielded under an umbrella, came down the street and mounted the municipal building steps.
"Tom Woods," Bert said in relief. Then the umbrella came down and revealed his father's face.
This time all fear of meeting his father was engulfed by a more powerful emotion. A feeling that he had never known before—a desire to tell his faults in a torrent of words and throw himself upon his father's strength and mercy, swept over him. He was already halfway down the room toward the door when Mr. Quinby came into the station.
"Dad!" he said. "Dad, I. . . ."
"There, Bert." His father had him by the hand. "Everything's going to be straightened out. I know. We're going to wipe the slate clean and start afresh, and nothing like this will ever happen again."
He had not expected to be met like this; but the Butterfly Man had said, "You don't know fathers." The comfort of it ran through him and gave him strength.
"Being arrested is only part of it, Dad. You don't know it all. I went to Mr. Clud. . . ."
"And borrowed $175. I know all about that. You can forget Clud. He's been paid. That's done."
"You paid him," Bert said, and stared as
