“Well, it was like this.” Joe took a long breath, glanced up at her, then turned his eyes away again. “Jack had a fight with Mr. Haskell over some money he picked up in the road. Mr. Haskell said he stole it from his cash drawer, but Jack kept on saying he found it in the road. I shouldn’t wonder if he did steal it though, at that,” Joe went on, thoughtfully, and for the first time Dorothy looked at him accusingly.
“You know I begged you not to have anything to do with Jack Popella, Joe.”
The lad hung his head and flushed scarlet.
“I know you did. I won’t ever, any more.”
“All right, dear. Tell me what happened then.”
“Jack was so mad at Mr. Haskell he said he would like to knock down all the boxes in the room back of his store just to get even. He asked me to help him and—just for fun—I said sure I would. Then he told me to go on in and get started and he would come in a minute.
“I knocked down a couple of boxes,” Joe continued, after a strained silence. “And then—the explosion came. Jack said I was to blame and—the—the cops were after me. I wasn’t going to let them send me to prison,” he lifted his head with a sort of bravado and met Dorothy’s gaze steadily. “So—so I came out West to Garry.”
“And you are going back again with me, Joe,” said his sister firmly. “It was cowardly to run away. Now you will have to face the music!”
Joe hung his head for a moment, then squared his shoulders and looked bravely at Dorothy.
“All right, Dot. I guess it was kind of sneaking to run away. I—I’m awful sorry.”