“No, your honor.”
“How long have you been here?”
“Only since yesterday, your honor.”
“How did you get here?”
“I came in on a freight train, your honor.”
“I see,” said the judge. “Well, you came to the wrong place. We're going to put an end to vagrancy in Lockmanville. Thirty days. Next case.”
Samuel caught his breath. “Your honor,” he gasped.
“Next case,” repeated the judge.
The policeman started to lead Samuel away. “Your honor,” he cried frantically. “Don't send me to jail.” And fighting against the policeman's grip, he rushed on, “It's not my fault—I'm an honest boy and I tried to find work. I haven't done anything. And you'll kill me if you send me to jail. Have mercy! Have mercy!”
The policeman shook him roughly. But there was something so genuine in Samuel's wail that the judge said, “Wait.”