It was a big, black, greasy Family Bible, evidently a relic of better days. It had probably been hidden under the bed for safety.
The girl grappled the sled with one hand, and with the other Billy’s little red fist.
I followed, carrying the big, black, greasy Family Bible.
Evidently this girl had been here before. She walked around the end of the judicial bar, and laid down the sled. Then she took the Bible out of my hands. It was about all she could do to lift it.
In a shrill, piping voice, full of business, and very much in earnest, she addressed the Judge: “I say, Mister Judge, they sent my brudder Billy away from school, they did. He’s six, goin’ on seven, and I want that teacher ’rested and brought here so you can tell her to let Billy go to school. Here is our Family Bible—you can see for yourself how old Billy is!”
The Judge adjusted his glasses, stared, and exclaimed, “God bless my soul!”
Then he called a big, blue-coated officer over and said: “Mike, you go with this little girl and her brother, and tell that teacher, if possible, to allow the boy to go to school; that I say he is old enough. You understand! If you do not succeed, come back and tell me why.”
The big policeman took the little boy in his arms. The girl carried the sled, and I followed with the Family Bible.
The officer looked at me—“Newspaper man, I s’pose?”
“I think so—possibly with a few exceptions.”
“She’s the queerest lot yet, is this kid,” and the big bluecoat jerked his thumb toward the girl.
I suggested that we go to the restaurant across the way and get a bite of something to eat.
“I’m not hungry,” said the officer, “but the youngsters look as if they hadn’t et since day before yesterday.”
The officer drank two cups of coffee and ate a ham sandwich, two hard-boiled eggs, a plate of cakes and a piece of pie.
The girl and her brother each had a plate of cakes, a piece of pie and a glass of milk.
As I did not care for the cakes, the officer cleaned the plate for me.
I didn’t have time to go to the school, but the officer assured me that he would “fix it,” and he winked knowingly, as if he had looked after such things before. He was kind, but determined, and I had confidence he would see that the little boy was duly admitted.