"He might," Peace retorted grimly; "but he ain't! Ask him!"
The Judge turned gravely to the crimson-cheeked lad and asked severely, "Son, are you guilty or not guilty?"
"Guilty," muttered the miserable culprit.
"Didn't I tell you?" triumphed the girl.
"What would you recommend as his sentence?" asked the Judge.
"Sentence?" repeated Peace, with the uncomfortable feeling that she was being laughed at.
"Punishment, I mean."
"A good, sound thrashing that ain't all show and no hurt," was the harsh verdict.
"Very well! I will administer it now. Len, hand me that strap. Hector, come here!"
Leonard passed the strap to his father, the younger son shuffled across the porch to receive his sentence, and Peace stood breathlessly by, watching with frightened eyes. The Judge raised the strip of leather and brought it down with a resounding thwack across the boy's legs. He squirmed, let out a wild yell, and began to blubber. The strap rose and fell the second time, there was a second yell, and Peace, with blazing eyes and blanched face, flew in between man and boy, snatched the upraised strap and flung it clear across the room, screaming in fierce indignation, "Don't you touch him again! You're a pretty kind of a judge! Aren't you ashamed of yourself?"