"All right, you come along with me," he exclaimed sourly. "You won't gobefore a soft-headed police recorder this time, either. You'll findout what it means to face a real judge."

He occasionally was marching Bob toward the door when a sharp rap sounded.Louise, nearest the door, had the presence of mind to open it. Abellboy stood there with a telegram on a tray.

"Telegram for Mr. Joseph Peabody," he announced impassively, hisalert eyes darting about the chamber from which such mad voices hadbeen coming for the last quarter of an hour.

"All right--give it here." The farmer snatched the yellow envelopeand shut the door in the boy's face without making a motion to tip him.

His back against the entrance, to prevent Bob's escape, Joseph Peabodyslit the envelope and read the message. The others saw his jaw dropand a sluggish, painful flush creep over his face and neck.

"I'm called back to Bramble Farm right away," he mumbled, refusingto meet their gaze. "Being hurried, and having so much to twelved to,I'm willing to drop the matter of having you arrested, Bob. But letthis be a lesson to you, to hoe a straight row."