Struggling Upward: Luke Larkin's Luck

IN THE COURT-ROOM

It was decided that Luke should remain until his trial in the personal custody of Constable Perkins.  Except for the name of it, his imprisonment was not very irksome, for the Perkins family treated him as an honored guest, and Mrs. Perkins prepared a nicer supper than usual.  When Mr. Perkins went out he said to his wife, with a quizzical smile:  “I leave Luke in your charge.  Don’t let him run away.”

“I’ll look out for that,” said Mrs. Perkins, smiling.

“Perhaps I had better leave you a pistol, my dear?”

“I am afraid I should not know how to use it.”

“You might tie my hands,” suggested Luke.

“That wouldn’t prevent your walking away.”

“Then my feet.”

“It won’t be necessary, husband,” said Mrs. Perkins.  “I’ve got the poker and tongs ready.”

But, though treated in this jesting manner, Luke could not help feeling a little anxious.  For aught he knew, the tin box taken from his mother’s trunk might be the same which had been stolen from the bank.  In that case Roland Reed was not likely to appear again, and his story would be disbelieved.  It was a strange one, he could not help admitting to himself.  Yet he could not believe that the mysterious stranger was a burglar.  If he were, it seemed very improbable that he would have left his booty within half a mile of the bank, in the very village where the theft had been committed.  It was all very queer, and he could not see into the mystery.

“I should like to do something,” thought Luke.  “It’s dull work sitting here with folded hands.”

“Isn’t there something I can do, Mrs. Perkins?” he said.  “I am not used to sitting about the house idle.”

“Well, you might make me some pies,” said Mrs. Perkins.

“You’d never eat them if I did.  I can boil eggs and fry potatoes.  Isn’t there some wood to saw and split?”

“Plenty out in the shed.”

“I understand that, at any rate.  Have you any objection to my setting to work?”

“No, if you won’t run away.”

“Send out Charlie to watch me.”

Charlie was a youngster about four years of age, and very fond of Luke, who was a favorite with most young children.

“Yes, that will do.  Charlie, go into the shed and see Luke saw wood.”

“Yes, mama.”

“Don’t let him run away.”

“No, I won’t,” said Charlie, gravely.

Luke felt happier when he was fairly at work.  It took his mind off his troubles, as work generally does, and he spent a couple of hours in the shed.  Then Mrs. Perkins came to the door and called him.

“Luke,” she said, “a young lady has called to see the prisoner.”

“A young lady!  Who is it?”

“Florence Grant.”

Luke’s face brightened up with pleasure; he put on his coat and went into the house.

“Oh, Luke, what a shame!” exclaimed Florence, hastening to him with extended hand.  “I only just heard of it.”

“Then you’re not afraid to shake hands with a bank burglar?” said Luke.

“No, indeed!  What nonsense it is!  Who do you think told me of your arrest?”

“Randolph Duncan.”

“You have guessed it.”

“What did he say?  Did he seem to be shocked at my iniquity?”

“I think he seemed glad of it.  Of course, he believes you guilty.”

“I supposed he would, or pretend to, at any rate.  I think his father is interested to make me out guilty.  I hope you don’t think there is any chance of it?”

“Of course not, Luke.  I know you too well.  I’d sooner suspect Randolph.  He wanted to know what I thought of you now.”

“And what did you answer?”

“That I thought the same as I always had—­that you were one of the best boys in the village.  ‘I admire your taste,’ said Randolph, with a sneer.  Then I gave him a piece of my mind.”

“I should like to have heard you, Florence.”

“I don’t know; you have no idea what a virago I am when I am mad.  Now sit down and tell me all about it.”

Luke obeyed, and the conversation was a long one, and seemed interesting to both.  In the midst of it Linton Tomkins came in.

“Have you come to see the prisoner, also, Linton?” asked Florence.

“Yes, Florence.  What a desperate-looking ruffian he is!  I don’t dare to come too near.  How did you break into the bank, Luke?”

First Luke smiled, then he became grave.  “After all, it is no joke to me, Linny,” he said.  “Think of the disgrace of being arrested on such a charge.”

“The disgrace is in being a burglar, not in being arrested for one, Luke.  Of course, it’s absurd.  Father wants me to say that if you are bound over for trial he will go bail for you to any amount.”

“Your father is very kind, Linny.  I may need to avail myself of his kindness.”

The next day came, and at ten o’clock, Luke, accompanied by Constable Perkins, entered the room in which Squire Duncan sat as trial justice.  A considerable number of persons were gathered, for it was a trial in which the whole village was interested.  Among them was Mrs. Larkin, who wore an anxious, perturbed look.

“Oh, Luke,” she said sorrowfully, “how terrible it is to have you here!”

“Don’t be troubled, mother,” said Luke.  “We both know that I am innocent, and I rely on God to stand by me.”

“Luke,” said Mr. Beane, “though I am a bank trustee, I am your friend and believe you innocent.  I will act as your lawyer.”

“Thank you, Mr. Beane.  I shall be very glad to accept your services.”

The preliminary proceedings were of a formal character.  Then Miss Melinda Sprague was summoned to testify.  She professed to be very unwilling to say anything likely to injure her good friends, Luke and his mother, but managed to tell, quite dramatically, how she first caught a glimpse of the tin box.

“Did Mrs. Larkin know that you saw it?” asked the squire.

“She didn’t know for certain,” answered Melinda, “but she was evidently afraid I would, for she shut the trunk in a hurry, and seemed very much confused.  I thought of this directly when I heard of the bank robbery, and I went over to tell Luke and his mother.”

“How did they receive your communication?”

“They seemed very much frightened.”

“And you inferred that they had not come honestly by the tin box?”

“It grieves me to say that I did,” said Melinda, putting her handkerchief to her eyes to brush away an imaginary tear.

Finally Melinda sat down, and witnesses were called to testify to Luke’s good character.  There were more who wished to be sworn than there was time to hear.  Mr. Beane called only Mr. Hooper, Mr. Tomkins and Luke’s Sunday-school teacher.  Then he called Luke to testify in his own defense.

Luke told a straightforward story—­the same that he had told before—­replying readily and easily to any questions that were asked him.

“I submit, Squire Duncan,” said Mr. Beane, “that my client’s statement is plain and frank and explains everything.  I hold that it exonerates him from all suspicion of complicity with the robbery.”

“I differ with you,” said Squire Duncan, acidly.  “It is a wild, improbable tale, that does not even do credit to the prisoner’s invention.  In my opinion, this mysterious stranger has no existence.  Is there any one besides himself who has seen this Roland Reed?”

At this moment there was a little confusion at the door.  A tall, dark-complexioned stranger pushed his way into the court-room.  He advanced quickly to the front.

“I heard my name called,” he said.  “There is no occasion to doubt my existence.  I am Roland Reed!”