At a quarter of two Constable Bruce and Mr. Melville walked to the house together.

The door was opened for them by Herbert himself.

“So you haven’t taken leg bail, Herbert,” said the constable, jocosely.

“No, Mr. Bruce, I am on hand; I am in a hurry to meet Mr. Eben Graham and see whether he can look me in the face after his shameful behavior.”

“Oh, Mr. Bruce, I never thought you would call at my home on such an errand,” said Mrs, Carr, on the point of breaking down.

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Carr,” said the constable; “anybody may be charged with theft, however innocent.  Your son has good friends who won’t see him treated with injustice.”

Herbert’s mother was desirous of accompanying them to the office of the justice, but was persuaded to remain behind.  Herbert knew that in her indignation she would not be able to be silent when she saw Eben Graham.

Justice Slocum was an elderly man, with a mild face and gray hair.  When Herbert entered he greeted him in a friendly way.

“I am sorry to see you here, my boy,” he said, “but I am sure there is some mistake.  I have known you ever since you were a baby, and I don’t believe you are guilty of theft now.”

“I submit, Judge Slocum,” said Eben Graham, who sat in a corner, his mean features looking meaner and more insignificant than usual, “I submit that you are prejudging the case.”

“Silence, sir!” said Judge Slocum, warmly.  “How dare you impugn my conduct?  Though Herbert were my own son, I would give you a chance to prove him guilty.”

“I hope you’ll excuse me, judge,” said Eben, cringing.  “I am as sorry as you are to believe the boy guilty of stealing.”

“Do your worst and say your worst, Eben Graham!” said Herbert, contemptuously, “but be very careful that you do not swear falsely.”

“I don’t need any instructions from you, Herbert Carr, considering that you are a criminal on trial,” said Eben, maliciously.

“You are mistaken, sir,” said George Melville.  “To be under arrest does not make a man or boy a criminal.”

“I am sure I am much obliged for the information, Mr. Melville,” said Eben, spitefully.  “You’ve chosen a nice companion.”

“There you are right,” said Melville, gravely.  “I have done much better than if I had hired you.”

Eben winced, but did not reply.

George Melville whispered to Herbert: 

“Are you willing to accept me as your lawyer?  I am not much of one, to be sure, but this case is very simple.”

“I am very grateful for your offer, and accept it,” said Herbert.

I do not propose to record the whole scene in detail, but only to give a general idea of the proceedings.

Eben Graham was sworn as a witness, and deposed that he had left Herbert in charge of the post office the previous evening.  On his return he examined the stamps and contents of the money drawer, and found, to his surprise, that five dollars in money and six dollars’ worth of stamps were missing.