“He did give me the store key, sir, and I was left home to take care of things.” Here the boy faltered a little, and his eyes fell, his manly little heart refused to own that he was left in care of a girl baby before all those people. “Well, what did you do after that?” “I tried to fasten the door inside, but the bar was gone, so I left it as it was, locked but not barred, and went up stairs.” “Who was with you then?” “No one, that is, no one but Jerusha Maria. Kate Gorman had gone out with Jared Boyce, and we two were locked in till our folks came home from the party.” “And who is Jerusha Maria? Is she here?” James glanced at Mrs. Smith, and answered, with hesitation, that Jerusha Maria was Mrs. Smith’s little girl, and couldn’t come to a place like that, not being old enough. “But being that bright,” broke in the mother, “that if she was here, she would cry ready to break her heart.” The magistrate smiled, but went on questioning James. “Well, what did you do after that?” “I sat down by Jerusha Maria, and tried to coax her to go to sleep,” faltered the lad, blushing crimson. “Well, what next?” “She wouldn’t do it, sir.” “Being good as gold, but obstinate, taking after her father in that respect,” broke in Mrs. Smith, with a last dash of scorn at her husband. “They had kept up a racket before going out,” said James; “and that left her wide awake. It wasn’t her fault.” “I’ll be bound it wasn’t!” exclaimed the mother, with tears in her eyes. “Well?” said the judge, silencing Mrs. Smith with a gesture of the hand. “Well, sir, I—I sat down by her and rocked the cradle till she fell asleep.” The poor boy confessed this with a glow of burning shame in his eyes and cheeks; it was the only thing in his young life that he shrank from making known; the great cross taken up to save his mother and sisters from starvation. “Well, when the child was asleep—what next?” “I drank a glass of root beer that tasted of paregoric, and went to sleep myself. It was wrong, but I could not help it.” “But you woke up again?” said the magistrate. “Not till the folks came home.” “And this is all?” “That is all I can remember about.” The magistrate hesitated; there was something so straightforward and honest in the two persons brought before him, that some intuitive feeling made him suspicious of the evidence that seemed to condemn them. But there was, in fact, nothing to contradict it; nothing that could justify him in setting the prisoners free. While he hesitated, there arose a slight disturbance at the door of the court-room. CHAPTER LX. AN UNEXPECTED WITNESS. A young woman, evidently of the working classes, was talking eagerly with a policeman, stationed at the door of the court-room, which disturbed the judge, who looked that way with an expression of annoyance.