“And when will that be, please?” asked Clare, with his empty arms still held out.
“That depends on his worship there.”
“Hold your tongue, James,” said the magistrate. “Take the boy away, John.”
“Please, sir, where am I going to?” asked Clare.
“To prison, till we find out about you.”
“Please, sir, I didn’t mean to steal her. I didn’t know the parish wanted her!”
“Take the boy away, I tell you!” cried the magistrate angrily. “His tongue goes like the hopper of a mill!”
James, carrying the baby on one arm, was already pushing Tommy before him by the neck. Tommy howled, and rubbed his red eyes with what was left him of cuffs, but did not attempt resistance.
“Please, don’t let anybody hold her upside down, policeman!” cried Clare. “She doesn’t like it!—Oh, baby! baby!”
John tightened his grasp on his arm, and hurried him away in another direction.