“Soap?” said the Doctor-in-Law, elevating his eyebrows. “This is important—er—er—what kind of soap?”
“Yellow,” said the Turtle. “Fourpence a pound.”
“Hum!” said the Doctor-in-Law, “very mysterious, but not at all surprising from what I know of this person—call the next witness.”
The next witness was the Cockatoo, who scrambled into the box in a great fluster.
“He’s a story-teller, and a pickpocket, and a backbiter, and a fibber, and a bottle-washer,” she screamed excitedly, “and a heartless deceiver, and an organ-grinder, so there!” And she danced out of the witness-box again excitedly, muttering, “Down with him, down with him, the wretch,” all the way back to her seat.
“Ah, that will about settle him, I fancy,” remarked the Doctor-in-Law, putting down some figures on his slate and counting them up.
“What are you doing?” demanded the Sister-in-Law.
“Summing up,” was the reply. “The judges always sum up in England, you know; that’s thirty-two pounds he owes. Shall I collect it?”
“Wait a minute till I pass the sentence,” said the Sister-in-Law.