Mr. Cane stood up. Here was a subject that required very careful investigation, and he was always at his best when on his feet.
"Sit down there." He pointed to a chair directly in front of his wife. "Now, let's get to the bottom of this thing. When did you pull off this—robbery?"
Mr. Cane thought he had the witness trapped. "Yesterday, eh?" he demanded. "Why, only last night you were over there decorating this selfsame tree! When did they take the decorations off from it?"
"Didn't take 'em off! I s—s—swiped it before there was any decorations put on it."
The prosecutor was baffled. "How on earth could you decorate a tree when you had stolen it, and there wasn't any tree there to decorate?" he asked irritably.
"You don't understand," Sube explained desperately. "I s—swiped the tree for Nancy. The one that—that somebody else got for her wasn't any good, and she asked me to get her a decent one; and I hunted all over the woods and there wasn't a single one left that was any good, and on the way home I saw this one, and—I didn't think any one would care, so—I took it."
"Well? Where did you take it from?" pursued his relentless father.
Sube's voice died almost to a whisper as he replied, "From the cemetery."
"What's that!" cried the amazed Mr. Cane. "The cemetery?"