NOT GUILTY.
'Douglas, I want you.'
Douglas jumped up obediently from the kitchen floor, where he was bathing a wound in his terrier's side. He followed his father into the study, and Bully the terrier followed at his heels.
A red-faced man stood in the door, and Douglas guessed what was wrong.
'That's him,' almost shouted the visitor. Bully crept closer to Douglas' side, and bared two teeth, for it was to him the farmer alluded.
'It wasn't,' said Douglas, and his face grew as red as if it were he who was accused of some crime. 'He has been with me all the time. He has not touched anything of yours.'
'He knows, you see, mister,' said the man slily, 'knows all about it before a word's said. If that was my boy—— '
Douglas' father interrupted. 'A moment, please,' he said. 'Listen to me, Douglas. Mr. Wilkins says that your dog and you, too, were in his yard a few days ago. Is that so?'
'Yes, Father,' said Douglas, 'the cowboy threw mud at me, and I went over to thrash him.'
'Trespassing,' said the farmer, 'and the lad rolled him in the mud for his pains.'