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Newspaper Page Text
"Now that he's in Sing Sing?" cor
rected Mr. Andrews. "I hope so! She
deserves it. That son of yours, Mrs.
Bernard," he declared' emphatically,
"is no goodP'
The brutality shocked Mr. Thorn
dike. For the woman hefelt a thrill
of sympathy, but at once saw that
it was superfluous. From the secure
and lofty heights of motherhood, Mrs.
Bernard smiled down upon the assist
ant district attorney as upon a
naughty child. She did not even deign
a protest. She continued merely to
smile. The smile reminded Thorn
dike of the smile on the face of a
mother in a painting by Murillo he
had lately presented to the chapel in
the college he had given, to his native
"That son of yours," repeated
young Andrews, "is a leech. He's
robbed you, robbed his wife. Best
thing I ever did for you was to send
him up the river."
The mother smiled upon him be
seechingly. "Could you give me a pass?" she
Young Andrews flung up his hands
and appealed to Thomdike.
"Isn't that just like a mother?" he
protested. "That son of hers has
broken her heart, tramped on her,
cheated her; hasn't left her a cent;
and' she comes to me fora 'pass, so
she can kiss him through' the bars!
And I'll bet she's got a cake for him
in that basket!"
The mother laughed happily; she
"knew now she would get the pass.
"Mothers," explained Mr. "Andrews,
from the depth of his wisdom, "are
all like that; your mother, my moth
er.. If you went to jail, your mother
would be just like that."
Mr. Thorndike bowed his head po
litely. He had never considered go
ing to jail, or, whether, if he did, his
mother would bring him cake in a
basket. Apparently there were many
aspects and accidents of life not in
cluded in his experience.
Young Andrews sprang to his feet,"
and, with the force of a hose flushing
a gutter, swept Ms soiled visitors into
"Come on," he called to the Wisest
Man, "the court is open." At a door
a tipstaff laid his hand roughly on the
arm of Mr. Thorndike.
"Thatfs all right, Joe," called young
Mr. Andrews, "he's with me." They
entered the court and passed down
an aisle to a railed enclosure in which
were high oak chairs. Again, in his
effort to follow, Mr. Thorndike was
halted, but the first tipstaff came to
his rescue. "All right," he signaled,
"he's with Mr. Andrews."
Mr. Andrews pointed to one of the
oak chairs. "You sit there," he com
manded, "it's reserved for members
of the bar, but it's all right. You're
Distinctly annoyed, slightly be
wildered, the banker sank between
the arms of a chair. He felt he had
lost his individuality. Andrews had
become his sponsor. Because of An
drews he was tolerated. Because An
drews had a pull, he was permitted
to sit as an equal among police-court
lawyers. No longer was he Arnold
Thorndike. He was merely the man
"with Mr. Andrews."
A court attendant beat with his
palm upon the rail.
"Sit down!" whispered Andrews.
"The judge is coming."
Mr. Thorndike sat down.
The court attendant droned loudly
words Mr. Thorndike could not dis
tinguish. There was a rustle of silk,
and from a door behind him the judge
"Stand up!" he hissed. Mr. Thorn
dike stood np.
After the court attendant had ut
tered more unintelligle words every
one sat down; and the financier again
moved hurriedly to the rail.
"I would like t6 speak to him now
before he begins," he whispered. "I
Mr. Andrews stared in amazement.
The banker had not believed the
young man could look so serious.