aid:

"Harold, would you like to have your mother and me go to dinner with
you?"

With that same unrelenting, stubborn frown on his face the boy replied:
"No--let me alone."

A hot flush swept over the preacher's face. "Very well," he said, and
turned away, his lips twitching.

The jury was not long out. They were ready to report at three o'clock.
Every seat was filled as before. The lawyers came in, picking their
teeth or smoking. The ladies were in Sunday dress, the young men were
accompanied by their girls, as if the trial were a dramatic
entertainment. Those who failed of regaining their seats were much
annoyed; others, more thrifty, had hired boys to keep their places for
them during the noon hour, and others, still more determined, having
brought lunches, had remained in their seats throughout the
intermission, and were serene and satisfied.

Harold was brought back to his seat looking less haggard. He was not
afraid of sentence; on the contrary he longed to have the suspense end.

"I don't care what they do with me if they don't use up too much of my
life," he said to Jack. "I'll pound rock or live in a dungeon if it will
only shorten my sentence. I hate to think of losing time. Oh, if I had
only gone last year!"

The Reverend Excell came in, looming high above the crowd, his face
still white and set. He paid no heed to his parishioners, but made his
way to the side of Lawyer Brown. The judge mounted his bench and the
court room came to order instantly.

"Is the jury ready to report on the case of the State _vs._ Excell?" he
asked in a low voice. He was informed that they were agreed. After the
jury had taken their seats he said blandly, mechanically: "Gentlemen, we
are ready for your verdict."

Harold knew the foreman very well. He was a carpenter and joiner in
whose shop he had often played--a big, bluff, good-hearted man whom any
public speaking appalled, and who stammered badly as he read from a
little slip of paper: "Guilty of assault with intent to commit great
bodily injury, but recommended to the mercy of the judge." Then, with
one hand in his breeches pocket, he added: "Be easy on him, judge; I
believe I'd 'a' done the same."

The spectators tittered at his abrupt change of tone, and some of the
young people applauded. He sat down very hot and red.

The judge did not smile or frown; his expressionless face seemed more
like a mask than ever. When he began to speak it was as though he were
r