"'A reasonable supply of drunks were despatched, and an habitual
drunk, in the person of a burly dame from Tipperary, who pleaded not
guilty and then urged the "poor childer" in extenuation, was sent
down the harbour for three months; Uncle Cook had been put in charge
of a couple of young frailties whose hind name was woman--'
"How do you like that, my dear?" asked Sewell exultantly.
Mrs. Sewell looked grave, and then burst into a shocked laugh. "You
must stop that paper, David! I can't have it about for the children
to get hold of. But it _is_ funny, isn't it? That will do--"
"No, I think you'd better have it all, now. There can't be anything
worse. It's funny, yes, with that truly infernal drollery which the
newspaper wits seem to have the art of." He read on--"--'when a case
was called that brought the breath of clover blossoms and hay-seed
into the sultry court-room, and warmed the cockles of the
habitues' toughened pericardiums with a touch of real poetry.
This was a case of assault, with intent to rob, in which a lithe
young blonde, answering to the good old Puritanic name of Statira
Dudley, was the complainant, and the defendant an innocent-
looking, bucolic youth, yclept--'"
Sewell stopped and put his hand to his forehead.
"What is it, David?" demanded his wife. "Why don't you go on? Is it
too scandalous?"
"No, no," murmured the minister.
Pages:
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124