CHAPTER XXIII
IN AMIABLE CONFERENCE
BETTY'S sole idea of a court had been gained from a scene or two in theonce-a-week Pineville motion picture theater, and Bob had even lessknowledge. They both thought there might be a crowd, a judge in a blackgown, and some noise and excitement.
Instead Recorder Bender unlocked the door of a little one-storybuilding and ushered them into a small room furnished simply with along table, a few chairs, and a case of law books.
Presently two men came in, nodded to Mrs. Bender, and conferred inwhispers with Mr. Bender. There was a scuffling step outside the doorand Mr. Peabody entered.
"Huh, there you are!" he greeted Bob. "For all of you, I might havebeen hunting my horse and wagon all night. Mighty afraid to let any oneknow where you are."
"Mr. Peabody?" asked the recorder crisply, and suddenly all his quietfriendliness was gone and an able official with a clear, direct gazeand a rather stern chin faced the farmer. "Sit down, please, untilwe're all ready."
Mr. Peabody subsided into a chair, and the two men went away. They wereback in a few moments, and with them they brought Wapley and Lieson anda lad, little more than a boy, who was evidently the truck driver.
"Close the door," directed the recorder. "Now, Mr. Peabody, if you'lljust sit here--" he indicated a chair at one side of the table. With aclever shifting of the group he soon had them arranged so that Wapley,Lieson, the truck driver, and the two men who had brought them in weresitting on one side of the table, and Betty, Bob, Mrs. Bender and Mr.Peabody on the other. He himself took a seat between Betty and Mr.Peabody.
"Now you all understand," he said pleasantly, "that this is merely aninformal hearing. We want to learn what both sides have to say."
Mr. Peabody gave a short laugh.
"I don't see what the other side can have to say!" he exclaimedcontemptuously. "They've been caught red-handed, stealing my chickens."
The recorder ignored this, and turned to Lieson.
"You've worked for farmers about here in other seasons," he said. "And,from all I can hear, your record was all right. What made you putyourself in line for a workhouse term?"
Lieson cleared his throat, glancing at Wapley.
"It can't be proved we was stealing," he argued sullenly. "Themchickens was going to be sold on commission."
"Taking 'em off at ten o'clock at night to save 'em from sunburn,wasn't you?" demanded Mr. Peabody sarcastically. "You never was a quickthinker, Lieson."
"Now, Lieson," struck in Mr. Bender patiently, "that's no sort of use.Miss Gordon here overheard your plans. We know those chickens came fromthe Peabody farm, and that you and Wapley had a bargain with Tubbs tosell them in Petria. What I want to hear is your excuse. It's been myexperience that every one who takes what doesn't belong to him has anexcuse, good or bad. What's yours?"
At the mention of Betty's name, Lieson and Wapley had shot her a quicklook. She made a little gesture of helplessness, infinitely appealing.
"I'm so sorry," the expressive brown eyes told them, "I just have totell what I heard, if I'm asked, but I wouldn't willingly do you harm."
Lieson threw back his head and struck the table a sounding blow.
"I'll tell you why we took those blamed chickens!" he cried. "You canbelieve it or not, but we were going to sell 'em in Petria, and allover and above twenty-five dollars they brought, Peabody would have gotback. He owes us that amount. Ask him."
"It's a lie!" shouted Peabody, rising, his face crimson. "A lie, I tellyou! A lie cooked up by a sneaking, crooked, chicken-thief to savehimself!"
Lieson and Wapley were on their feet, and Betty saw the glint ofsomething shiny in Peabody's hand.
"Sit down, and keep quiet!" said the recorder levelly. "That will beabout all the shouting, please, this morning. And, Mr. Peabody, I'lltrouble you for that automatic!"
The men dropped into their chairs, and Peabody pushed his pistol acrossthe table. The recorder opened a drawer and dropped the evil littlething into it.
"Can you prove that wages are owed you by Mr. Peabody?" he asked, as ifnothing had happened.
Wapley, who had been silent all along, pulled a dirty scrap of paperfrom his pocket.
"There's when we came to Bramble Farm and when we left, and the moneywe've had," he said harshly. "And when we left, it was 'cause hewouldn't give us what was coming to us--not just a dollar or two of itto spend in Glenside, Miss Betty can tell you that."
"Yes," said Betty eagerly. "That was what they quarreled about."
The recorder, who had been studying the bit of paper, asked a questionwithout raising his eyes.
"What's this thirty-four cents subtracted from this two dollarsfor--June twenty-fourth, it seems to be?"
"Oh, that was when we had the machinist who came to fix the binder stayto supper," explained Wapley simply. "Lieson and me paid Peabody forbutter on the table that night, 'cause Edgeworth's mighty particularabout what he gets to eat. He'd come ten miles to fix the machine, andwe wanted him to have a good meal."
Mr. Peabody turned a vivid scarlet. He did not relish these disclosuresof his domestic economy.
"What in tarnation has that got to do with stealing my chickens?" hedemanded testily, "Ain't you going to commit these varmints?"
The truck driver, who had been studying Mr. Peabody with disconcertingsteadiness, suddenly announced the result of his scrutiny, apparentlynot in the last in awe of the jail sentence shadow under which he stood.
"Well, you poor, little, mean-livered, low-down, pesky, slitheringsnake-in-the-grass," he said slowly and distinctly, addressing himselfto Mr. Peabody with unflattering directness, "now I know where I'veseen your homely mug before. You're the skunk that scattered groundglass on that stretch of road between the crossroads and Miller's Pond,and then laughed when I ruined four of my good tires. I knew I'd seenyou somewhere, but I couldn't place you.
"Why, do you know, Mr. Bender," he turned excitedly to the recorder,"that low-down coward wouldn't put ground glass on his own road--mightget him into trouble with the authorities. No, he goes and scattersthe stuff on some other farmer's highway, and when I lodge a complaintagainst the man whose name was on the mail box and face him inGlenside, he isn't the man I saw laughing at all! I made a completefool of myself. I suppose this guy had a grudge against some neighborand took that way of paying it out; and getting some motorist in Dutch,too. These rubes hates automobiles, anyway."
"It's a lie!" retorted Mr. Peabody, but his tone did not carryconviction. "I never scattered any ground glass."
The recorder fluttered a batch of papers impressively.
"Well, I've two complaints that may be filed against you," he announceddecisively. "One for uncollected wages due James Wapley and EnosLieson, and one charging that you willfully made a public highwaydangerous for automobile traffic. Also, I believe, this boy, BobHenderson, has not been sent to school regularly."
This was a surprise to Bob, who had long ago accepted the fact thatschool for him was over. But Mr. Peabody was plainly worried.
"What you want me to do?" he whined. "I'm willing to be fair. No mancan say I'm not just."
The recorder leaned back in his chair, and his good wife, watching,knew that he had gained his point.
"Litigation and law-squabble," he said tranquilly, "waste money, time,and too often defeat the ends. Why, in this instance, don't we effecta compromise? You, Mr. Peabody, pay these men the money you owe themand drop the charge of stealing; you will have your chickens back andthe knowledge that their enmity toward you is removed. Tubbs, I'm sure,will agree to forget the broken glass, and the schooling charge maylapse, provided something along that line is done for Bob this winter."
Mr. Peabody was shrewd enough to see that he could not hope for betterterms. As long as he had the chickens to sell to Ryerson, he had nogrounds for complaint. He hated "like sin" as Bob said, to pay themoney to Wapley and Lieson, but under the recorder's unwavering eye,he counted out twenty-five dollars--twelve dollars and fi
fty centsapiece--which the men pocketed smilingly. A word or two of friendlyadmonition from Mr. Bender, and the men were dismissed.
"I'm so glad," sighed Betty as they left the room, "that I didn't haveto say anything against them."
"Well, are you coming along with me?" asked Peabody, almost graciouslyfor him. "There's a letter there for you, Betty. From your uncle, Icalculate, since the postmark is Washington. And my word, Bob, youdon't seem in any great hurry to get back to your chores; the sorrelmust be eating his head off in Haverford's stable."
The recorder exchanged a look with his wife.
"Mr. Peabody," he said, "I shall be detained here an hour or so, and Idon't want these young folks to leave until I have a word with them.Mrs. Bender will be only too glad to have you stay for lunch with us,and I'll meet you up at the house. My wife, Mr. Peabody."
"Pleased to meet you, Ma'am," stammered Mr. Peabody awkwardly. "I oughtto be getting on toward home. But I suppose, if the chickens were fedthis morning, they can wait."
"I'm sure you're hungry yourself," answered Mrs. Bender, slipping anarm about Betty. "Suppose we walk up to the house now, Mr. Peabody,and I'll have lunch ready by the time Mr. Bender is free."
Betty looked back as they were leaving the room and saw the truckdriver slouched disconsolately in a chair opposite the recorder.
"Is--is he arrested?" she whispered half-fearfully to Mrs. Bender. Mr.Peabody and Bob were walking on ahead.
"No, dear," was the answer. "But Mr. Bender will doubtless give him agood raking over the coals, which is just what he needs. Fred Tubbsis a Laurel Grove boy, and his mother is one of the sweetest women intown. He's always been a little wild, and lately he's been in with allkinds of riff-raff. Harry heard rumors that he was trucking in shadytransactions, but he never could get hold of proof. Now he has him justwhere he wants him. He'll tell Fred a few truths and maybe knock somesense into him before he does something that will send him to state'sprison."
Betty Gordon at Bramble Farm; Or, The Mystery of a Nobody Page 23