oke 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
impassive, 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 passionate 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 reflect