“What is your name?”
“Your Honor, my name is Newton Mills.”
“Newton Mills?” The judge started, then stared in unfeigned astonishment. “You are Newton Mills?”
“Yes, your Honor.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Nothing, your Honor.”
“Yes, you are!” The judge braced himself on the arms of his chair. “You’re drinking yourself to death. You are breaking your mother’s heart.
“I’ll tell you what I’ll do.” He reached for an order blank. “I’ll send you down there with your pal. You’ll have a chance to sober up.”
At once the face of Newton Mills became a study in pain. “Don’t do that, Judge. Don’t do it. It will break my mother’s heart. I haven’t done anything bad, Judge. I’ll quit drinking, Judge. I promise. Don’t do it, Judge. I’ll quit. I promise, Judge.”
There had been a time when, quite a young boy, Johnny Thompson had made friends with a homeless dog. At another time he had found a half grown kitten starving under a barn. After much trouble he had caught the kitten. It had scratched him terribly, but he had clung to it and had carried it home to give it a chance.