As the mother and her boy stood before this, to them mysterious tribunal, two men came into the court-room, and James gave a start as he saw them, and uttered a faint cry, which drew his mother’s attention.
The first man who presented himself was Jared Boyce, who came forward with a studied swagger, though his usually florid face was almost ashen pale, and his cowardly eyes wandered away from any look fixed upon them.
The other man was Smith; he too was pale and greatly agitated; he only cast one glance at the lad, whose face brightened at the sight of him, and turned utterly away from the woman, who searched his countenance keenly with her eyes.
“Oh, sir! oh, Mr. Smith! what does it mean? What will they do with her?” half sobbed, half whispered the boy, who still considered Smith his friend, and drew closer to him in an agony of hope.
Smith turned away with a frown; his course was taken; justice should be done; why then should he permit himself to be disturbed by the woman’s stern glance, or the large, pleading eyes of the boy. Now and then, he glanced toward the door, as if apprehending something from that quarter. But the fixed resolve of his face did not change. He waved the poor lad back with his hand, but made no other reply to his pathetic appeal.
“Oh, mother, what can I do for you—what can I do?” cried the boy, creeping back to the old woman’s side. “Everybody turns against us.”
“Hush! be a man!” was the answer; but the old woman’s voice was broken and her mouth quivered.
“Do they mean to send us back to prison, mother?” This time the boy addressed the policeman who had all along betrayed extraordinary pity for him. But another person heard it and answered,
“Not as long as I live to say that it sha’nt be done, Jimmy dear!”
James sprang forward and caught Mrs. Smith by the gown.