She thought she heard the minister speak his name as they were about to leave, talking to Dan Peterson over by the door, and Dan said, “Yes, tomorrow,” that was all. She wanted to ask, but something held her back, and no one mentioned Darcy. Was it his second trial that was coming off tomorrow she wondered?
She did not sleep well that night. She kept waking and thinking of Darcy. Was he going to have to go to prison after all for bootlegging? It seemed so hard now that he had begun his new life. She wished she dared ask about the law.
The next morning at the breakfast table she followed a sudden impulse and told the Judge and his wife all about Darcy’s speech in the meeting on the night of the rain. Dan had gone into the hall to answer the telephone and when he came back he tiptoed in and stood by the door quietly, as if some one were praying. His eyes were down and his face looked strangely tender as if he were hearing a miracle. Neither the Judge nor Dan were much on religion, but Mrs. Peterson was a saint if there was one, and her face glowed with joy over the story. The old Judge cleared his throat three times before he growled out the words:
“Yes, Darcy’s all right, Darcy’s all right.” His glasses seemed to be blurred and he had to take them off and polish them before he could see right again. “He needn’t have confessed that at all. It was all over and forgot. But still, I like him better for it. Great stuff in him!”
Then Joyce summoned courage.
“Will he have trouble again, with this other trial? What will be the penalty? Will he have to go to prison?”
“Oh, no, oh, no! Nothing like that,” said the Judge hastily. “Oh, no, he’ll just have to pay a penalty. Probably about five hundred dollars or something like that, according to the amount of stuff handled. Know how much it was, Dan?”
“About,” said Dan gruffly.
“Great boy, Darcy!” said the Judge emphatically. “He’ll be all right this morning. Case comes off before noon, doesn’t it, Dan? Where’s my note book?”
“Yes, before noon,” said Dan, and then they both went out and Joyce, with relieved heart, went to singing and playing on the old tinpanny, yellow-keyed square piano, singing with all her heart, the song they sang that night in the meeting: