“Sebastian Gerhardt?” he said, looking over his blotter; “yes, here he is. Stealing coal and resisting an officer. Is he your boy?” “Oh, my!” said Gerhardt, _“Ach Gott!”_ He actually wrung his hands in distress. “Want to see him?” asked the Sergeant. “Yes, yes,” said the father. “Take him back, Fred,” said the other to the old watchman in charge, “and let him see the boy.” When Gerhardt stood in the back room, and Sebastian was brought out all marked and tousled, he broke down and began to cry. No word could cross his lips because of his emotion. “Don’t cry, pop,” said Sebastian bravely. “I couldn’t help it. It’s all right. I’ll be out in the morning.” Gerhardt only shook with his grief. “Don’t cry,” continued Sebastian, doing his very best to restrain his own tears. “I’ll be all right. What’s the use of crying?” “I know, I know,” said the gray-headed parent brokenly, “but I can’t help it. It is my fault that I should let you do that.” “No, no, it isn’t,” said Sebastian. “You couldn’t help it. Does mother know anything about it?” “Yes, she knows,” he returned. “Jennie and George just came up where I was and told me. I didn’t know anything about it until just now,” and he began to cry again. “Well, don’t you feel badly,” went on Bass, the finest part of his nature coming to the surface. “I’ll be all right. Just you go back to work now, and don’t worry. I’ll be all right.” “How did you hurt your eye?” asked the father, looking at him with red eyes. “Oh, I had a little wrestling match with the man who nabbed me,” said the boy, smiling bravely. “I thought I could get away.” “You shouldn’t do that, Sebastian,” said the father. “It may go harder with you on that account. When does your case come up?” “In the morning, they told me,” said Bass. “Nine o’clock.” Gerhardt stayed with his son for some time, and discussed the question of bail, fine, and the dire possibility of a jail sentence without arriving at any definite conclusion. Finally he was persuaded by Bass to go away, but the departure was the occasion for another outburst of feeling; he was led away shaking and broken with emotion. “It’s pretty tough,” said Bass to himself as he was led back to his cell. He was thinking solely of his father. “I wonder what ma will think.” The thought of this touched him tenderly. “I wish I’d knocked the dub over the first crack,” he said. “What a fool I was not to get away.” CHAPTER VII Gerhardt was in despair; he did not know any one to whom he could appeal between the hours of two and nine o’clock in the morning. He went back to talk with his wife, and then to his post of duty. What was to be done? He could think of only one friend who was able, or possibly willing to do anything. This was the glass manufacturer, Hammond; but he was not in the city. Gerhardt did not know this, however.