STANCH AND TRUE
By Jessie Ethel Sherwin
"Barry Joyce took the thousand
dollars, of course," declared Squire
Marvin, man of leisure and gossip of
the little town of Virden.
"Nobody believes that who really
knows Mr. Joyce," disputed his
daughter Helen, across the break
"No," her mother supported her,
"Barry Joyce may be responsible
for the stolen money, but he never
"ITm," muttered the opinionated
head of the household, half sneering
ly, "a champion of the misguided
gentleman, it seems!"
"He needs such!" burst forth
Helen vehemently, and there was a
conscious flush on her fair face.
"He went away, didn't he? Was
discharged from the plant Does
that look like innocence?" chal
lenged Mr. Marvin stubbornly.
"The heedless talk and suspicions
of unthinking people drove him to
it!" asserted Mrs. Marvin spicily, and
her husband, with a shrug of his
shoulders, left the house.
"Poor Dr. Joyce!" sighed Helen.
"I met him today and he looks care
worn and broken down. It is wicked,
all this censure of his son."
Helen spoke from a full heart.
Barry Joyce and she had been close
friends when the theft of the town
steel plant harshly terminated their
It had been the sensation of the
town for a month. One morning
John Purtelle, owner of the works,
had come down to the office to find a
thousand dollars in banknotes miss
ing from a drawer in his desk, where
he had carelessly placed them the
At once there was an investiga
tion. When they came to question
Barry Joyce he had acted troubled,
but frankly admitted that the even
ing before he had let himself into the
office about 9 o'clock to get his light
overcoat, secured it and immediately
left This act, openly confessed,
bore a certain possible construction,
of guilt, and in a day or two he was
discharged from employment
"I can't stand the talk around the
village," he told his father one day,
"and I'm going somewhere to make
a new start in life. Father, if you
promise absolute secrecy, I wish to
He Opened It to Find Ten One-Hundred
intrust you with an important com
mission." "I will respect the confidence, as
you know," pledged Dr. Joyce,
"The night of the loss of the thou
sand Don Purtelle was with me."
"The dissolute nephew of Mr. Pur
telle?" ' "Yes, poor fellow!" answered Bar
ry. "He was not himself, as usual.
When I stopped for my overcoat he
waited outside. He was- angry at his
uncle. He claimed he owed him
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