Millions of dollars were involved. The door
opened cautiously, and Morris poked his freckled
face in, piping up that he wanted to see the Judge.
The bailiff started to shoo him away, but I called
in the boy. I ordered a recess. No doubt the
distinguished counsel were shocked; certainly
they looked shocked. But a live boy looms larger
than a dead man’s millions to me, and when this
boy came into my Court, unafraid, smiling, and
sure of justice, I remembered the flash of fear and
hatred that I once had seen on this same freckled
face. So I beckoned Morris up to me, and I
heard his case then and there. He was in busi-
ness. He sold newspapers, and his place of busi-
ness was a certain busy corner where he dealt
not only with pedestrians, but with passengers
on passing cars. The ‘old cop, it seemed, had
let him ‘hop the cars,’ and all had gone well till
a new cop had come there. The ‘new guy,’ as
Morris called him, had ordered the boy off the
corner. ‘Thinks ’cause he’s a cop he owns the
whole town,’ said Morris, who was losing about
fifty cents a day. The case stated, I asked Mor-
ris what he would have me do.
“Evidently Morris had been reading, as well as selling, his newspapers, for he was ready with
his answer.
“‘Judge,’ he said, ‘can’t you gimme one o
