“He didn’t ask for ’em?”
“No; it was my idea. The string was easy for him to keep in his safe.”
“You didn’t take no receipt for it, I suppose?”
“That’s where I made a big mistake. This morning, the second I got my check, I wrote my name across it, went down to the shipping-shed and handed it to Homer. He took it, remarked that I was ahead of time, and went on with his writing. I noticed his hand shook something terrible.”
“Cigareets,” said the Judge sadly. “He learnt that in the city.”
“A guilty conscience, more likely. I says to him, ‘Well, Homer, are the nuggets handy? I’ll take ’em if they are.’ He looked up almost like he didn’t understand. ‘The nuggets?’ he says. ‘What nuggets?’ ‘Why, the nuggets I handed you as security.’ ‘You didn’t give me any nuggets,’ he says. ‘Yes, I did.’ ‘Why, you didn’t either!’ He was nice and friendly all the time, Judge, but said I was mistaken. Well, I’m not mistaken.” Her voice rose excitedly. “He’s been gambling with Jim; he’s short of money; Carpenter, the fruit-man, is back in town, and Homer’s scared.”
The face of the Judge grew pallid, and fear came into the grey eyes. He drew in a quick breath. “Mrs. Luce, you’re yellin’. Do you want the hull town t’hear? Let’s settle this without a crowd. You say Carpenter’s here?”
“Came in on the five-eight.” She looked across at the Judge defiantly.
“Mrs. Luce”—his voice was husky with pleading—“I think the boy’s playin’ a joke on you.”
“Well, he didn’t act joky. And I want his safe opened.”