“Certainly, sir.”
“Then I’ll commit him. I’ll commit him as such,” said Mr. Nupkins.
“This is a wery impartial country for justice,” said Sam. “There ain’t a magistrate goin’ as don’t commit himself, twice as often as he commits other people.”
At this sally another special laughed, and then tried to look so supernaturally solemn, that the magistrate detected him immediately.
“Grummer,” said Mr. Nupkins, reddening with passion, “how dare you select such an inefficient and disreputable person for a special constable, as that man? How dare you do it, sir?”
“I am very sorry, your wash-up,” stammered Grummer.
“Very sorry!” said the furious magistrate. “You shall repent of this neglect of duty, Mr. Grummer; you shall be made an example of. Take that fellow’s staff away. He’s drunk. You’re drunk, fellow.”
“I am not drunk, your worship,” said the man.
“You are drunk,” returned the magistrate. “How dare you say you are not drunk, sir, when I say you are? Doesn’t he smell of spirits, Grummer?”
“Horrid, your wash-up,” replied Grummer, who had a vague impression that there was a smell of rum somewhere.