Jacqueline sat down in the spiral rocker opposite him, with her dusty sneakers swinging clear of the floor.
“You go to school, Caroline?”
“Yes, Judge,” said Jacqueline. “I’m going into the seventh grade next month.”
“And you go to Sunday School?”
“Yes, Judge.”
“Then you’ve been taught to tell the truth, always?”
“Sure,” said Jacqueline, in a steady voice, but as she spoke she locked together the hands that had been resting idly in her lap. What was he driving at, in his roundabout, grown-up way? Did he know about Caroline’s gold beads? But she had put them back, safe in the box.
“Now, Caroline,” the Judge spoke gravely, “I want you to take your time and tell your aunt and me just what you did yesterday afternoon.”
Jacqueline darted a look about her.
“Don’t be afraid, Jackie,” Aunt Martha spoke up. “Tell us just what happened. I know you haven’t any call to be afraid.”