MY AUNT'S GREAT POLICE CASE. 247 



and she thinks she is to go and sit by the Magistrate, out 

 of consideration for her sex, and tell her plain unvarnished 

 tale confidentially. She is shaking her head, and explaining 

 in dumb show, with her parasol, to the Clerk that she 

 doesn't see how to get there, without climbing over the 

 Solicitors' bench, and crossing the table, when — 



" Now, then," says the Magistrate, impatiently, " where is 

 Henry — " he can't catch the other name—" I can't wait. 

 We must call the next case." 



And the " next case " would have been called there and 

 then, but for my Aunt trying to get into the dock, from 

 which she is taken by a policeman, who informs her that 

 she can stand behind the Solicitors. 



She has a sort of reticule on her left arm, she has given 

 me her parasol to hold, and she places her right hand on 

 the back of the seat. 



Seeing this figure before him, the Magistrate arrives at 

 the conclusion that Henry is a surname, and addresses her 

 with — 



" Now, Miss Henry, what have you got to say to this ?" 



Up to this moment she has had a great deal to say, but it 

 appears to have suddenly gone from her, like King Nebu- 

 chadnezzar's dream, and she can only admit that Thomas 

 Muddock did drive her, did wait for her about five hours, 

 and that she has not paid him. 



" Why not ? " asks Mr. Sharply. Then, while my Aunt is 

 looking piteously at me (I studiously avoid catching her 

 eye, not wishing to appear before I am absolutely required), 

 he turns to the Cabman, 



