“However, the thing can’t possibly be traced to me,” he reflected, somewhat more comfortable in mind. “I don’t know as I care whether Harry Gilbert goes to prison or not. He is very proud and stuck-up, and it will take down his pride.”
“I commend your decision,” said Mrs. Ross, to her husband. “In my opinion, mercy would be misplaced in such a case as this. The boy who is degraded enough to steal is likely to continue in his criminal course, and the sooner he is punished the better.”
There was something in this remark, also, that made Philip wince.
“Where will Harry Gilbert be tried?” asked Philip.
“Before Squire Davis. I directed the constable to carry him round there at nine o’clock this morning.”
“May I go, too?”
“Yes; your testimony will be needed to show that the boy was prowling around our house on the evening in question.”
“Very well,” answered Philip, with satisfaction. “I’ll go along with you.”
“Do so, my son.”
As it was not yet time to go to the office of the justice, Philip stepped out into the yard, where Tom Calder, the stable boy, was washing a carriage.