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A Wasted Day - Richard Harding Davis

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A WASTED DAY


When its turn came, the private secretary, somewhat apologetically,
laid the letter in front of the Wisest Man in Wall Street.

"From Mrs. Austin, probation officer, Court of General Sessions,"
he explained.  "Wants a letter about Spear.  He's been convicted of
theft.  Comes up for sentence Tuesday."

"Spear?" repeated Arnold Thorndike.

"Young fellow, stenographer, used to do your letters last summer
going in and out on the train."

The great man nodded.  "I remember.  What about him?"

The habitual gloom of the private secretary was lightened by a
grin.

"Went on the loose; had with him about five hundred dollars
belonging to the firm; he's with Isaacs & Sons now, shoe people on
Sixth Avenue.  Met a woman, and woke up without the money.  The
next morning he offered to make good, but Isaacs called in a
policeman.  When they looked into it, they found the boy had been
drunk.  They tried to withdraw the charge, but he'd been committed.
Now, the probation officer is trying to get the judge to suspend
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