"No; I'm afraid she has gotten the best of us," he replies, unfolding his napkin and beaming pleasantly upon his better half. "The fact is that she has skipped her bail—gone back to Ireland."
"What!" returns Mrs. Appleboy. "Do you mean to say that that woman has been allowed to get away after you have been doing nothing, apparently, for the last six months but spend your time in those miserable court-rooms down there? It's outrageous."
"Oh, you can't help that," he replies, "so long as prisoners are admitted to bail—they have the sacred privilege, guaranteed under our Constitution, of running away."
"Rubbish!" exclaims the lady.
"And do you know," continues Appleboy, "it really is a tremendous relief to feel that I shall not have to take the witness stand and be cross-examined as to my past career by some miserable little shyster lawyer from the Tombs."
"Why, Silas," interrupts his wife sharply, "what have you been doing that you are ashamed to tell of?"
"Oh, I didn't mean that," he adds hastily, "but they ask such embarrassing questions; I might have to tell how much property I own, and then the tax collector would get after us."
"Speaking of property," continues Mrs. Appleboy, "where's the teapot?"
Appleboy gazes at her blankly. In the excitement attendant upon Maria's non-appearance in the court-room, the family heirloom had completely escaped his mind.