The Judge bowed gravely. There was no denying that he looked relieved.
“This will have to go through the regular routine of course,” he said, “but it can be run through quickly. Mr. Robinson, you get the items, number of cases sold and so on; prepare the indictment, and we’ll try to get it through tomorrow.”
The Judge straightened up and looked about him, his eyes resting on the four witnesses, holding their hats ready for a speedy departure, and at that moment the district attorney jumped up briskly.
“Your Honor,” he said. “I ask that these four witnesses be held for perjury.”
A murmur of satisfaction went rippling over the court-room as people rose to go out.
People were rushing around Joyce as she came out, still escorted by little Lib, proud as a small peacock. Nan was the first to envelop her in a smothering embrace, weeping copiously upon her neck with loud show of affection. Many old friends lingered, waiting just to watch her dear face alight with the relief and triumph of the moment. The minister and his wife were close behind Joyce and eagerly asked her to come home with them.
“No,” put in Nan decidedly, “She’s coming to her own home of course. Everything in your room is just as you left it, darling—”
Joyce couldn’t help smiling at the affectionate appellative.
“For pity’s sake get rid of that awful child, and come on,” whispered Nan loudly. “Don’t let her hang on you like that. Let’s get out of this terrible crowd! How curious people are! Come on home!”
Poor little Lib dropped Joyce’s arm as if she had been shot, but Joyce quickly caught the little cold hand and drew it back close within her arm, her own warm fingers keeping the little hand clasped tight.