‘I beg this court’s pardon,’ said the chemist, who was a tall, thin, yellow-visaged man, ‘but I hope this court will excuse my attendance.’
‘On what grounds, Sir?’ said Mr. Justice Stareleigh.
‘I have no assistant, my Lord,’ said the chemist.
‘I can’t help that, Sir,’ replied Mr. Justice Stareleigh. ‘You should hire one.’
‘I can’t afford it, my Lord,’ rejoined the chemist.
‘Then you ought to be able to afford it, Sir,’ said the judge, reddening; for Mr. Justice Stareleigh’s temper bordered on the irritable, and brooked not contradiction.
‘I know I ought to do, if I got on as well as I deserved; but I don’t, my Lord,’ answered the chemist.
‘Swear the gentleman,’ said the judge peremptorily.
The officer had got no further than the ‘You shall well and truly try,’ when he was again interrupted by the chemist.
‘I am to be sworn, my Lord, am I?’ said the chemist.