It was not Hal who spoke this time. The voice in reply came from a boy sitting at a desk in a far corner of the room. In his trepidation and excitement Hal had not before noticed him. The boy rose from his chair as he spoke and advanced toward the central figures in the conversation. It was Ben Barriscale, Jr. Heretofore there had been only a casual acquaintance between the two boys. They attended the same high school, but they were not in the same class, had seen little of each other, and had had no companionship. It was evident that Mr. Barriscale was no less surprised at the interruption than was Hal himself. He sank back in his chair and the color went suddenly from his face. “You!” he exclaimed; “you broke it? Were you with this crowd of midnight marauders?” “No,” was Ben’s reply. “I wasn’t. But I was with another crowd, and we were doing the same things. We found the statue on Jim Perry’s porch. It was very dark and I didn’t know what it was. We took it over to McCormack’s, and I let it fall and it broke. I didn’t know till this morning that it was our fountain figure.” Mr. Barriscale’s anger seemed suddenly to have cooled. There was no sharpness or severity in his voice when he spoke again, only a note of reproof. “That you didn’t know whose property it was,” he said, “is no excuse for your conduct. To remove things from Mr. Perry’s porch is as reprehensible as it is to remove things from my lawn. I can’t see but that you are both equally guilty.” “I think so myself, father,” replied Ben. “And I’m ready to share any punishment that Hal gets.” Benjamin Barriscale, Sr., looked slowly from one boy to the other, and it was evident that he was in a quandary. For a full minute he was silent; but he resumed the nervous tapping on the table with his paper-knife. Finally he turned to Hal and asked: “Where is the statue now?” “Back on your fountain, sir,” was the reply. “You say it’s broken?” “Yes, sir. Broken in two.” “Then it’s beyond repair, and you two boys shall pay for it.” He spoke firmly still, but quietly. He said nothing more about crimes, nor about penalties, nor about the state’s prison. The question now appeared to be simply one of compensation. “That piece of marble,” he continued, after a moment of consideration, “was of considerable value.” He turned suddenly to Hal. “Have you any money?” he asked. “No,” replied the boy; “except a few dollars in the savings bank.” “Well, it doesn’t matter. On second thought I’ll not permit you to pay me money. Nor will I permit your father to pay for your misdeeds. You boys must work out your punishment. It will be no easy job. I intend that before you finish it you shall appreciate the sacredness of the rights that people have in their own property.” Again, for a minute, he was silent while the two boys stood apprehensively awaiting his decision. Then he turned again suddenly to Hal. “Your father,” he said, “is captain of the local company of state militia?”