Dorothy looked up at him pleadingly. John Dempsey was silent; he could not plead his own cause in speech as eloquent as Dorothy’s eyes pleaded for him! Judge Abbott beckoned the young girl to step up beside him.
“I understand you wish to speak in the prisoner’s behalf?” said the magistrate.
“Oh, Judge! ought he to be a prisoner with that button on his coat?” cried Dorothy Dale, impulsively. “He is an old Veteran—a man who fought for our country. I am sure Mr. Dempsey is a good man. Don’t punish him, Judge!”
“But, my dear young lady, how can I help it? He has committed a misdemeanor. He must either be sent to jail, or he must produce his fare out of town—and fifty miles out of town, at that!”
“Oh, sir! can’t somebody else pay his fare?” asked Dorothy, anxiously.
“Surely, Miss. Are you prepared to do so?”
“No, sir, not now. But I will take him away on the one o’clock train—I will indeed.”
“Very well. Sentence suspended. Paroled in your care,” added the judge to one of the railroad officers. “You have him at the station in season for the train, and the young lady will be responsible for his fare.”
Dorothy thanked him, but went eagerly to the prisoner.
“Where do you want to go, sir?” she asked.