'Why, he gave them to mother.' 'I know he did,' Harold continued; 'but in a crazy fit he might have taken them away and secreted them and then forgotten it, and Jerrie might have known it, and not been able to find them till now.

Many things go to prove that;' and very briefly Harold repeated some incidents connected with Jerrie's illness when she was a child.
'That looks like it, certainly,' Tom said; 'but I am awfully loth to give up arresting the brute, and believe I shall do it yet for assault and battery.

He certainly struck her.

You will see for yourself the lump on her head.' So saying Tom arose to go away, but before he went made a remark quite characteristic of him and his feeling for Harold, to whom he said, with a laugh: 'Don't for thunder's sake, think us a kind of a Damon and Pythias twins, because I've joined hands with you against Peterkin and for Jerrie.
Herod and Pilate, you know, became friends, but I guess at heart they were Pilate and Herod still.' 'No danger of my presuming at all upon your friendship for myself, though I thank you for your interest in Jerrie,' Harold replied.
Then the two separated, Tom going his way and Harold his, until it was time for the afternoon train which was to take them home.
The suit had gone against Peterkin, and it was in a towering rage that he stood in the long depot, denouncing everybody, and swearing he would sell out Lubbertoo and every dumbed thing he owned in Shannondale and take his money away, 'and then see how they'd git along without his capital to boost 'em.' At Harold he would not even look, for his testimony had been the most damaging of all, and he frowned savagely when on entering the car he saw his son in the same seat with him, talking in low, earnest tones, while Harold was evidently listening to him with interest.

Small as he was and mean in personal appearance, there was more of true manhood in Billy's finger than in his father's whole body.