“You sound as if you knew of something,” countered Polly.
“I do. I heard of it last night from one of the officers in the Army. Do you want to hear it?”
Of course they wanted to hear it. But it was far different than anything they expected to hear.
“There is a trial in the Court House this morning at ten, of a young man who helped himself to a stick of sweets on sale by a street peddler, of which class Kingston is full and overflowing. The lieutenant is called upon as a witness of the theft, and the brown policeman who caught the fellow red-handed, is going to make the most of his claim to promotion on the force. I hear it will be as good as any vaudeville show in the city,” explained Jack.
“It seems a pity to waste a fine morning in an ill-smelling courtroom, when there are so many other interesting things to do,” argued Mr. Fabian, whose artistic instincts rebelled against a court scene as an amusement.
“Oh, I’d love to witness such a scene,” declared Eleanor, glancing at her girl-friends to see what they thought about it.
“Supposing you folks—all who wish to—go on a drive all about the country, while we youngsters attend court,” ventured Ray.
“If I thought we could trust the girls to you two scapegraces in such a place as a Kingston Court House, I’d accept the suggestion,” returned Mr. Dalken.
“I’ll go with the girls to the court, and you all can go for a sight-seeing trip,” offered Mrs. Courtney.
“Would you really care to sit out a court trial?” asked Mrs. Fabian, sympathetically for her friend.