none noticed that the lovely
schooner that had led the procession in was stealing quietly out again
into the thick of the gale.

And those who did notice it thought nothing of it in the excitement of
the moment, probably judging her to be some coaster who had run in to
look for a leak. She had been tied up just ten minutes at the Mallaby
wharf.

As the sorry procession passed the Schofield cottage, Code's mother
ran out sobbing and threw herself upon him. She had not seen her son
before (although orphan Josie had told her the _Lass_ was in), for
Code had been closeted with Boughton, and now her first glimpse of him
was as an accused criminal.

But, regardless of watching eyes and public opinion, she walked all
the way to the jail with him and went inside; and the two were
absolutely oblivious to their surroundings, so overjoyed were they to
see each other and so intimate was their companionship.

Along the edge of the crowd great Pete Ellinwood slouched, looking
with dimmed eyes at mother and son.

"Ain't she the mother, though?" he said to himself. "Just like a girl
she is--not a day past thirty by her looks!"

The jailer, who was regularly employed as janitor of the Free Baptist
Church, opened the little house for his unexpected guest. It consisted
of a room, fitted for sleeping, and a cell. These were not connected,
but were side by side, facing the passage that ran through from front
to back of the building.

Code was taken to the cell, and only his mother and Pete stayed with
him to talk over the situation. It was determined to have Squire Hardy
come over in the evening (it was now five o'clock) and give his
opinion on the legal situation.

Ma Schofield went home and prepared her boy's supper herself, and
brought it with her own hands for him to eat. Code was in the best of
spirits at his success of the afternoon, and had no fear whatever as
to the outcome of his present situation.

Pete had gone away for an hour, and Ma Schofield had taken the dishes
back home, when the detective came in, saying that a little girl who
called herself Josie had come with a message.

Code asked to see her, and the great-eyed, dark little thing wept
bitterly over him, for to her fourteen years he represented all the
heroes of romance. Even as she passed him the message she knew that
she could never love again and that she would shortly die of a broken
heart.

Code kissed her, promptly forgot her presence, and opened the