The deep seriousness and purpose that shone in the boy’s eyes almost startled Avice.
“Work on the case? What do you mean, Fibsy?” She spoke very gently, for she knew his peculiar sense of shyness that caused him to bolt if not taken seriously.
“Yes’m; Mr. Trowbridge’s murder, you know. They’s queer things goin’ on.”
“Such as what?”
Avice was as earnest as the boy, and he realized her sympathy and interest.
“Well, Miss Trowbridge, why did Judge Hoyt want me out o’ New York? Why did he send me to Philadelphia?”
“I think to get you a good position, Fibsy. It was very kind of Judge Hoyt, and I’m afraid you’re not properly grateful.”
“No, ma’am, I ain’t. ’Cause you see, he just made Mr. Stetson take me on. Mr. Stetson, he didn’t want another office boy, any more’n a cat wants two tails. Why, he had a perfectly good one, an’ he’s got him yet. The two of us. ’Cause, you see I’m only tempo’ry an’ the other feller, he’s perm’nent. Judge Hoyt, he’s payin’ my salary there himself.”
“How do you know this?”
“Billy, the other feller told me. He heard the talk over the telephone, an’ Judge Hoyt says if Mr. Stetson’d take me fer a coupla munts, he’d pay me wages himself. Only I must go at onct. An’ then the judge, he told me I must beat it, cause Mr. Stetson wanted me in a hurry.”