“The constable must foller the law,” explained the Judge. “Set down, Mrs. Luce. Who’s your warrant for?”
Her hands were clenched as if she had something hateful in their grasp. “It’s for that nice, stylish dude you’re always bragging up,” she said sarcastically. “He’s a thief, that’s what he is—a common, two-faced thief!”
“Dude?” repeated the Judge, puzzled.
“Mr. Homer Scott.”
The Judge stared her in the face. “Hush!” he commanded sternly. “You don’t know what you’re a-sayin’.”
“Oh, I don’t!” She laughed bitterly. “Well, you’ll change your mind.”
“You’re a-talkin’ strong talk, Mrs. Luce. What d’ you claim he’s stole?”
“My nuggets.”
“How did he come to have your nuggets? Set down.”
“I gave ’em to him for security. I borrowed a hundred and fifteen dollars of his peach money that day I was in here with Jim. At first I wanted him to give me the money and then dock Jim that much on his pears. But he wouldn’t do that. He made me a straight loan and asked for security. I took him my nuggets.”