Joshua looked at the commanding eyes of his father and said, “Yes, sir.”
“And don’t you think it would be a good thing for you to be committed to the House of Refuge until you are twenty-one?”
Seven years! “Yes, sir,” replied the boy, as if hypnotized by the warning in his father’s steadfast gaze.
“Then I will commit you,” said the judge. “Mr. Cole, you will swear to a warrant.”
Some time later, as John Cole, the commitment papers in his pocket, and Joshua entered the broad corridor they found Dickinson, the big detective, pacing up and down.
“Well,” he remarked, “all fixed, eh?”
Cole nodded briefly.
“Sure you c’n get him out to the House of Refuge by yourself, are you?”
John Cole turned on the man, but Dickinson’s face was a blank.
“Are you trying to make fun of me?” asked Cole. “If you are, I’ll make trouble for you.”