CHAPTER VII IN COURT
Johnny and Drew were up at eight o'clock next morning. At 8:30 theblack-haired, dark-eyed girl with smiling lips and dimpled cheeks broughtin steaming coffee and some unusual but delicious pastry.
Drew called her Rosy, and patted her on the arm. Rosy's dimples deepened.
Who was Rosy? Why did she live in that other shack among the walls ofbrick and mortar? Why did Drew room in this odd place? Johnny wanted toask all these questions. Realizing that their answers did not greatlyconcern him, he asked none of them.
At ten o'clock he and Drew were seated on the front bench of the "Local46," the particular court room in which their pickpocket case was to betried.
The whole scene was packed with interest for Johnny. The judge in hisbox-like coop, the young prosecutor and the deputies standing below, themotley throng that filled the seats at his back, each waiting his turn toappear as complainant, defendant or witness, made a picture he would notsoon forget.
The judge was a dark-skinned man of foreign appearance. His hair waslong. His eyes were large, and at times piercing. He sat slumped down inhis chair. When sudden problems arose, he had a trick of bracing hishands on the arms of his chair and peering at a prisoner as a hawk mightpeer at a squirrel or a mouse.
"He's Italian," said Drew. "Smart man. Knows his business. Square, too. Agood judge. Lots of fun, too, if he wants to be."
At this moment two names were called. Two large men, respectably dressed,walked up the aisle to take their places at the high, narrow table justbefore the judge's stand. Two officers stepped up beside them.
"Confidence men," whispered Drew. "We all know them. Haven't got a thingon them, though, I'll bet. Just picked them up on suspicion. They getthousands every year from people who are looking for a chance to makeeasy money. They--
"See! I told you. The judge is letting them go. It's not what you knowthat counts in court. It's what you can prove."
Once more the stage was set. An attractive young woman, carefully andtastefully dressed, a young man at her side, a middle-aged man of stockybuild carrying a package, a young lady of the shop-girl type at his side;these four stood before the judge.
"Young lady," said the judge, leaning forward and adjusting his glassesas he spoke to the well dressed one, "you are charged with the theft ofone dress, taken from the store of Dobbs, Hobson & Dobbs; value $14.00.Guilty, or not guilty?"
"Guilty," the girl murmured with downcast eyes.
"It is my duty," the judge leaned forward in his chair, "to warn you thatif you plead guilty I may fine you from one dollar to one hundreddollars, or send you to jail for from one day to one year. Knowing this,do you still wish to plead guilty?" His tone was impressive.
The girl hesitated. A short, gray-haired man stepped up and whispered inher ear.
"Her lawyer," explained Drew.
"Guilty." The girl nodded her head.
The evidence was presented. Then the husband of the young lady spoke: "Ifyour Honor please. This is the first time this sort of thing hashappened. I will give my pledge that it will not happen again."
The judge raised himself on his elbows, stared through his glasses andexclaimed: "I'll see that it doesn't happen again for sixty days. Theidea! A woman of your intelligence going into a store and carrying off adress that doesn't belong to you and you don't need! Why did you do it?"
"I--I don't know, Judge. I--I just saw it there. I--I liked it. So, thefirst thing I knew I was taking it away."
"Exactly. Sixty days! Sit over there."
The judge pointed to a row of chairs at the right of his box; thedefendant burst into tears, dabbled her eyes with an embroideredhandkerchief; her young husband led her to a seat and, for the time, theaffair was ended.
"The judge will allow her to weep for a couple of hours," Drew explainedin a whisper. "Meantime, his secretary in the back room will get somepeople on the wire and look up her record. If her record is good, he'llset his sentence aside, put her on a year's probation. Probably neverhear from her again. She's had about enough.
"But why do they do it?" he exclaimed in a whisper. "If you were a youngwoman would you go through all this and carry the memory of thehumiliation and disgrace through a long life for a fourteen dollar dress?You would not; nor for forty dresses!
"But they do it, over and over and over. Hats, belts, coats, dresses,artificial flowers. What don't they steal? And they come to court,sometimes three or four a day, to stand before the judge and weep. You'dthink they'd learn, that everyone in the world would learn after awhile,everyone, except the professional shoplifter. But they don't."
And now a score of young black men stood before the bench. They wereaccused of gambling with dice. The dice, a hook for raking them in, and afew coins were offered in evidence.
"Who was running this game?" the judge thundered at them. Nobody knew;not even the arresting officer.
"Well," said the judge, "you all working?"
"Ya-as, sir."
"Got good jobs?"
"Ya-as, sir."
"Louder." The judge cupped a hand to his ear. "You all got real goodjobs?"
"Ya-as, SIR!"
"All right, you can go, but we have a police benefit fund here. If you'veall got real good jobs you might contribute a dollar each to that fund."
The black men went into a huddle. They produced the required sum andmarched out.
"One of the judge's little jokes," Drew smiled. "I don't see how he couldlive through all this low down squalor day after day if it wasn't for hisjokes."
"I want to tell you, Johnny, I wish I could tell every boy in the land athousand times, crime is not attractive! It is mean and low down, sordidand dirty. That's the best you can make out of it."
"One more case," he whispered as he rose, "then comes ours. You waithere. I'll go get the men."