THE LITTLE FELLER
Five feet high, in a suit of clothes three sizes too large for him, he stood in the doorway of my office impassively examining a card which he held in his hand and looking doubtfully about the room.
"I want to see the assistant district attorney," he said.
"Well, this is the right place," I answered in as encouraging a tone as I could assume.
"I want to see you—to speak with you. That lawyer company——"
"Oh, the Legal Aid? What do you want to see me about?"
"The little feller," he replied, taking a step forward and grasping his flat Derby hat firmly before him with both hands.
"What's the trouble?"
"It's the little feller—Isaac—they have arrested him for larceny." He spoke the words in a matter-of-fact—rather hopeful—altogether engaging manner.
"Larceny, eh! How old is he?"