Within the Law | Page 6

to a
certain department, that in which Mary worked. The detective was alert.
Some valuable silks were missed. Search followed immediately. The
goods were found in Mary's locker. That was enough. She was charged
with the theft. She protested innocence--only to be laughed at in
derision by her accusers. Every thief declares innocence. Mr. Gilder
himself was emphatic against her. The thieving had been long
continued. An example must be made. The girl was arrested.
The crowded condition of the court calendar kept her for three months
in the Tombs, awaiting trial. She was quite friendless. To the world, she
was only a thief in duress. At the last, the trial was very short. Her
lawyer was merely an unfledged practitioner assigned to her defense as

a formality of the court. This novice in his profession was so grateful
for the first recognition ever afforded him that he rather assisted than
otherwise the District Attorney in the prosecution of the case.
At the end, twelve good men and true rendered a verdict of guilty
against the shuddering girl in the prisoner's dock.
So simple the history of Mary Turner's trial.... The sentence of the
judge was lenient--only three years!
CHAPTER II.
A CHEERFUL PRODIGAL.
That which was the supreme tragedy to the broken girl in the cell
merely afforded rather agreeable entertainment to her former fellows of
the department store. Mary Turner throughout her term of service there
had been without real intimates, so that now none was ready to mourn
over her fate. Even the two room-mates had felt some slight offense,
since they sensed the superiority of her, though vaguely. Now, they
found a smug satisfaction in the fact of her disaster as emphasizing
very pleasurably their own continuance in respectability.
As many a philosopher has observed, we secretly enjoy the misfortunes
of others, particularly of our friends, since they are closest to us. Most
persons hasten to deny this truth in its application to themselves. They
do so either because from lack of clear understanding they are not quite
honest with themselves, from lack of clear introspection, or because, as
may be more easily believed, they are not quite honest in the assertion.
As a matter of fact, we do find a singular satisfaction in the troubles of
others. Contemplation of such suffering renders more striking the
contrasted well-being of our own lot. We need the pains of others to
serve as background for our joys--just as sin is essential as the
background for any appreciation of virtue, even any knowledge of its
existence.... So now, on the day of Mary Turner's trial, there was a
subtle gaiety of gossipings to and fro through the store. The girl's plight
was like a shuttlecock driven hither and yon by the battledores of many
tongues. It was the first time in many years that one of the employees

had been thus accused of theft. Shoplifters were so common as to be a
stale topic. There was a refreshing novelty in this case, where one of
themselves was the culprit. Her fellow workers chatted desultorily of
her as they had opportunity, and complacently thanked their gods that
they were not as she--with reason. Perhaps, a very few were kindly
hearted enough to feel a touch of sympathy for this ruin of a life.
Of such was Smithson, a member of the executive staff, who did not
hesitate to speak his mind, though none too forcibly. As for that,
Smithson, while the possessor of a dignity nourished by years of
floor-walking, was not given to the holding of vigorous opinions. Yet,
his comment, meager as it was, stood wholly in Mary's favor. And he
spoke with a certain authority, since he had given official attention to
the girl.
Smithson stopped Sarah Edwards, Mr. Gilder's private secretary, as she
was passing through one of the departments that morning, to ask her if
the owner had yet reached his office.
"Been and gone," was the secretary's answer, with the terseness
characteristic of her.
"Gone!" Smithson repeated, evidently somewhat disturbed by the
information. "I particularly wanted to see him."
"He'll be back, all right," Sarah vouchsafed, amiably. "He went
down-town, to the Court of General Sessions. The judge sent for him
about the Mary Turner case."
"Oh, yes, I remember now," Smithson exclaimed. Then he added, with
a trace of genuine feeling, "I hope the poor girl gets off. She was a nice
girl--quite the lady, you know, Miss Edwards."
"No, I don't know," Sarah rejoined, a bit tartly. Truth to tell, the
secretary was haunted by a grim suspicion that she herself was not
quite the lady of her dreams, and never would be able to acquire the
graces of the Vere De Vere. For Sarah, while a most efficient secretary,
was not in her