Jennie Gerhardt. Theodore Dreiser

viciously in an effort to establish his authority.

      Sebastian came, but it was with a blow which staggered his adversary.

      There was more struggling, and then a passing railroad hand came to the detective’s assistance. Together they hurried Sebastian toward the depot, and, there discovering the local officer, turned him over. It was with a tom coat, scarred hands and face, and a black eye that he was locked up for the night.

      The consequence of this was something dreadful in the little world in which it happened.

      When the children came home, they could not say what had happened to their brother, but as nine o’clock came, and then ten, and eleven, and Sebastian did not return, Mrs. Gerhardt was beside herself. He had stayed out many a night as late as twelve and one, but his mother had a foreboding of something terrible tonight. When half-past one arrived, and no Sebastian, she began to cry.

      “Some one ought to go up and tell your father,” she said. “He may be in jail.”

      Jennie volunteered, but George, who was soundly sleeping, was awakened to go along with her.

      “What!” said Gerhardt, astonished to see his two children.

      “Bass hasn’t come yet,” said Jennie, and then told the story of the evening’s adventure in explanation.

      Gerhardt left right away with his two children, walking excitedly back with them to a point where he could turn off to go to the jail. He was so worked up by the possibility of the thing that he was almost numb.

      “Is that so, now!” he repeated nervously, rubbing his clumsy hands across his wet forehead.

      At the station house, the sergeant in charge, who did not know anything about Gerhardt or his condition, told him curtly that Bass was under arrest.

      “Sebastian Gerhardt?” he said, looking over his blotter. “Yes, here he is. Stealing coal and resisting an officer. Is he your boy?”

      “Oh, my!” said Gerhardt, “Ach Gott!” He actually wrung his hands in distress.

      “Want to see him?” asked the sergeant.

      “Yes, yes,” said the father.

      “Take him back, Fred,” said the other to the old watchman in charge, “and let him see the boy.”

      When Gerhardt stood in the back room, and Sebastian was brought out all marked and tousled, he broke down and began to cry. No word could cross his lips, because of his emotion.

      “Don’t cry, Pop,” said Sebastian bravely. “I couldn’t help it. It’s all right. I’ll be out in the morning.”

      Gerhardt only shook with his grief.

      “Don’t cry,” continued Sebastian, doing his very best to restrain his own tears. “I’ll be all right. What’s the use crying?”

      “I know, I know,” said the gray-headed parent brokenly, “but I can’t help it. It is my fault that I should let you do that.”

      “No, no, it isn’t,” said Sebastian. “You couldn’t help it. Does Mother know anything about it?”

      “Yes, she knows,” he returned. “Jennie and George just came up where I was and told me. I didn’t know anything about it until just now,” and he began to cry again, recovering himself after a moment with difficulty.

      “Well, don’t you feel badly, now,” went on Bass, the finest part of his nature coming to the surface. “I’ll be all right. Just you go back to work now, and don’t worry. I’ll be all right.”

      “How did you hurt your eye?” asked the father, looking at him with red eyes.

      “Oh, I had a little wrestling match with the man who nabbed me,” said the boy, smiling bravely. “I thought I could get away.”

      “You shouldn’t do that, Sebastian,” said his father. “It may go harder with you on that account. When does your case come up?”

      “In the morning, they told me,” said Bass. “Nine o’clock.”

      “This is awful, awful,” repeated Gerhardt, getting back to the horror of the thing. His voice vibrated with emotion.

      “You go on back to your work now, and take it easy. I won’t come out so bad,” consoled his boy.

      Gerhardt, however, stood there for some time and spoke of bail, fine, and the whole medley of court details, without seeing exactly what he could do. Finally, he was persuaded by Bass to go away, but the starting was another occasion for a burst of feeling, and he was led away shaking, but trying to conceal it.

      “It’s pretty tough,” said Bass to himself as he was led back to his cell. He was thinking solely of his father. “I wonder what Ma will think.”

      The thought of this touched him tenderly. “I wish I’d knocked the dub over the first crack,” he said. “What a fool I was not to get away.”

       CHAPTER VII

      The outcome of this was in true keeping with the dictates of poverty. Gerhardt had no time to act. He did not know any one to whom he could appeal between the hours of two and nine o’clock in the morning. He went back to talk with his wife, and then to his post of duty. But it almost strained his heart cords to the point of snapping. With her, he had discussed ways and means, but who does not know the modest resources of the poor? Only one man could they think of who was able, or possibly willing, to do anything. This was the glass manufacturer, Hammond; but he was not in the city. Gerhardt did not know this, however.

      When nine o’clock came, he went alone to the court, for it was thought advisable for the others to stay away. Mrs. Gerhardt was to hear immediately what happened. He would come right back.

      The judge of the city court was a lean, wiry little individual who loved to take life with a cackling jocosity, which was a humorous thing in itself. He considered that such whims as these, in which he frequently interpreted the law, were good and natural, and that nothing, after all, really depended upon his mood.

      When Sebastian was lined up inside the dock, he had a number of inmates to wait for. There were seven ahead of him. Gerhardt had been forced to take a rear seat, as he could say nothing in his boy’s defense. When the officer, who had relieved the detective of this prisoner, heard the justice inquire, “What’s the next case?” he pushed Sebastian before the inner railing, and said:

      “Stealing coal, Your Honor, and resisting arrest.”

      The magistrate looked at Sebastian closely, his left eye squinted, and his mind unfavorably impressed by the lad’s scratched and wounded face.

      “Well, young man,” he said, “what have you to say for yourself?”

      At the sight of the shuffling and pushing which attended his son’s presentation, Gerhardt arose. He could not stay away. Making his way forward, he came near to the railing, but was seized by a court officer, who exclaimed, pushing him back—“Here, where are you going?”

      “That is my boy,” said Gerhardt. “I want to see the judge.”

      “Who’s the witness in this case?” the court was asking. When he heard the shuffling, he stopped to look about the room. “What’s the noise about?” he asked.

      “This man says he’s the young man’s father, and wants to testify,” said the nearest officer.

      “Tell him to stand outside the dock and wait till he’s called,” returned the magistrate irritably. “Now then, how did you get your black eye?”

      Sebastian looked at him, but did not answer at once. The detective who had arrested him leaned forward and began to explain.

      “I arrested him,” he said. “He was on one of the company’s cars. He tried to break away from me, and when I held him he assaulted me. This man here was a witness,” he added, turning to