“I am sitting, Mr. Tripp,” said Chester smiling.
“See how he brazens it out! What a hardened young villain he is!”
“Come, Silas, you must be crazy,” expostulated the constable, who felt very friendly to Chester. “Chester wouldn’t no more steal from you than I would.”
“I thought so myself, but when I found his handkerchief, marked with his name, on a flour barrel, I was convinced.”
“Is that so, Chester?”
“Yes, the handkerchief is mine.”
“It wasn’t here last night,” proceeded Silas, “and it was here this morning. It stands to reason that it couldn’t have walked here itself, and so of course it was brought here.”
By this time two other villagers entered the store.
“What do you say to that, Chester?” said the constable, beginning to be shaken in his conviction of Chester’s innocence.
“I agree with Mr. Tripp. It must have been brought here.”