I went to the court to hear him tried, and met one of the policemen who had come to take my finger-prints. He told me that I had nearly been arrested too, as I had been seen with Edward in Mr. Bolster's garden when he had been persuading people to throw things out of their own windows, in imitation of that hero, but the authorities had refused to prosecute me. Without actually saying so he gave me to understand that Lord Potter was at the bottom of it, but that the case against Edward was so strong that they could not refuse to take it up when once the information had been laid. Lord Potter pushed his way into the court as we were speaking together, and when he saw me glared with fury, but said nothing, not even when I asked him politely if he would like any more prints of Tom's photographs. These had turned out well, and created much amusement in the family circle. Unknown to Mr. Perry, who might have objected, a print of each had been sent to Lord Potter, and had probably pleased him less than the rest of us: Edward stood up in the dock like a man, acknowledged all that was alleged against him, glorified in it, and made a speech to the effect that a day would come. The magistrate listened to him indulgently, and said he was sorry to see a young man of his character and parentage in such a position. He would not be doing his duty if he overlooked the offence, but on account of Edward's hitherto blameless record, and the purity of his intentions, would sentence him to a month's imprisonment in the first division. He hoped that this very lenient punishment, for an offence that was graver than he seemed to recognise, would encourage him for the future to confine his efforts for the amelioration of the rich to more legitimate channels. I shook Edward by the hand as he was led away to undergo his punishment, and he told me to tell his family not to grieve for him. Nothing would daunt his spirit, and, if he survived his punishment, he should come out of prison more determined to carry on his work than when he went in. Edward's conviction cast a gloom over us at Magnolia Hall. Mr. Perry was particularly cast down by it, and did not seem to be able to take any comfort from the fact that Edward was to be treated as a prisoner of the first class. "They are sending them to work underground in the coal mines now," he said, "and they feed them chiefly on skilly. These were reforms that were long since overdue, and I have perhaps had more to do with them than anybody. But, even with those alleviations, imprisonment is a terrible thing, and it goes to my heart that a son of mine should be treated in this way, after all I have done. I sometimes wonder whether it has been worth it, and whether I should not have done better for those dear to me if I had kept to the life to which I was born." Mrs. Perry and Miriam both assured him that he would not, and presently managed to assuage the sharpness of his grief.