"Nothing of consequence. Once I was in a gang that took some apples from a pushcart. It was done in fun, but the judge put me on probation on account of it."
Penny occasionally had visited juvenile court sessions and in many respects the stories she had heard there corresponded to Jerry Barrows' account of his difficulties. Yet in some ways his tale did not ring true. Obviously, he was trying to convey the impression that he had never had a chance and yet he wore expensive clothing. She suspected too that he had been educated in a school fully as good as the one she attended.
"I am sorry, but I must turn you over to the police," she told him. "I don't believe your story. It doesn't hang together."
A strange change came over the boy's face. The last trace of arrogance left him as he turned pleading eyes upon the two girls.
"I lied about my name," he admitted, "but I did it because I want to protect my mother. If she learns that I am in trouble again it will kill her. Please, won't you let me go free?"
Even as the boy spoke, his eyes were roving to the door. It would not be difficult for him to overpower the two girls and escape if he really chose.
"If I should let you go will you promise not to get into any more trouble?" Penny asked suddenly.
The boy nodded.
"I'll find a job and keep straight."
"Would you really work if you had a position?" Penny questioned.