MY AUNTS GREAT POLICE CASE. 235 



drawing himself to let us pass. I fancy the Sergeant and 

 that official will share my shilling. 



I71 Court. Small room. Dirty representatives of the 

 general public behind a wooden railing. In front of them 

 the dock. In the centre, at a table covered with green 

 baize, are seated elderly respectable gentlemen, looking as 

 if they'd all had their black waistcoats cut out of the same 

 piece of satin. They have papers before them, and are (we 

 hit upon it at once) the Solicitors. On their left is a some- 

 thing between a pew and a school-desk. One man sits there. 

 "A reporter," I suggest, and he becomes immediately an 

 object of intense interest to my Aunt. On the right is a 

 Policeman in a private box, reading a newspaper. At the 

 other end of the room is a raised stage, as if for a perform- 

 ance. It is fitted with a table-desk, a chair, and a screen to 

 conceal a door in the wall. Quite gives one the idea of an 

 entertainment. Magistrate suddenly to appear from behind 

 screen, taking every one by surprise, and then going through 

 a round of favourite characters, changing his dress and 

 Avigs under his table, and popping up as somebody else. 

 Solicitors in front to represent stalls, or orchestra. 



Clerk sits just below and in front of the table-desk. He is 

 placed sideways, and appears to be peculiarly uncomfortable, 

 having evidently insufficient room for his legs, which, if 

 stretched, would, as it were, stand out by themselves, and 

 spoil the picture. 



" Where are we to go ? " my Aunt asks, nervously. 



As we can't join the public behind the rail, and will be 

 certainly out of place with the Policeman in his private 



