"Yes, Judge. I bought things in Mr. Quinby's store when he was clerking there."
In any formal court of law a scene such as this would have been impossible. But Springham was used to Judge Manning's methods. Arraignments in his court were something of family affairs, and information was accepted from whatever source it could be obtained. The judge leaned forward and surveyed the boy who stood before the bar of justice.
"Bert, this fellow was a partner of yours, wasn't he?"
"Yes, sir." The surprising turn of events had bewildered the boy. "We were in business together."
"And you had a row. Huh! Strikes me that a lad of your age could be better employed helping his father than in trying to go it on his own. The complainant not having appeared there is nothing for me to do but to dismiss the case."
"Come, Bert," said his father.
It was the man who led the way from the court room. Bert's hand clung to his sleeve. Free! It seemed too much of a miracle to be true. Every worry swept aside! A wave of intoxicating relief ran through his veins. His father pushed open the municipal building door, and the night air, rain-soaked and fresh, came gratefully to his nostrils. Never had he known that the outdoors could smell so sweet.
