"Is she—" she began, and then spoke angrily, "I can see she's been held."
Joe smiled sadly.
"Sent to the workhouse for five days."
Exclamations of indignation arose. The committee could not believe it.
"I wish," cried impetuous Sally, "that magistrate were my husband. I'd throw a flatiron at his head and put some castor-oil in his soup!"
Joe laughed a little. He looked at his watch, and then at Myra.
"Myra," he said, gently, "it's two o'clock—too late to go home. You must sleep with mother."
Myra spoke softly.
"No—I can get home all right."
He took her by the arm.