MY AUNT'S GREAT POLICE CASE. 241 



appears, utterly bewildered. The Wavering Policeman is 

 about to call the next case, when the next case, as it seems, 

 calls itself, for a short man advances between the dock and 

 the Solicitor's bench with a bagfull of papers, and addresses 

 his Worship. 



The Magistrate places himself on his elbows, and bends 

 towards him with both hands up to his ears. 



" Now then, Sir," he says, as briskly as ever (always on a 

 sort of " one down, t'other come on " principle), " Who are 

 you ? What do you want ? Go on. Sir." 



The Gentleman with the Bag commences. It appears 

 that he wants a great deal. It also appears that he has 

 been before that Court several times before, and has an 

 application to make. The word "application" settles /i/s 

 business at once. 



" I really can't take up the public time," says Mr. Sharply 

 " with applications. Stand down, Sir." 



But the Man with a Bag hasn't come there to stand down. 

 He insists upon the Magistrate hearing him. 



" A case. Sir," the Man with the Bag goes on persistently, 

 while Mr. Sharply stands aghast at his audacity, and looks 

 round the court at the people and police with the kind of 

 air with which Henry must have said of Archbishop Thomas- 

 a-Becket, "Have I no one who will rid me of this utter bore?" 

 I think the Wavering Policeman has some passing idea of 

 removing the Man with a Bag, but he can't make up his 

 mind to any decisive step. 



The man proceeds — " A case, Sir, has arisen out of a 

 matter of trespass " Mr. Sharply frowns, and resumes 



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