“Pretty lasseny!” said Jaques aside to Norval. “I am sure she is guilty of that.”
“But,” said Norval, “what is she charged with doing?”
“Stealing a heart, m’ Lud.”
Norval, who had once been in court at a trial, thought the right thing to do was to take a note; so, seizing an enormous pen that was on the bench, he wrote, repeating aloud as he went on, “Prisoner charged with stealing a tart.”
QUEER QUERIES.
“The person who stole tarts was a knave, and I thought a knave was a man?” said Ranulf.
“Yes,” said Norval; “but you know the women want to do what the men do nowadays.”
“I’ve heard of their wanting rights,” said Jaques; “but stealing isn’t a right, it’s a wrong, isn’t it?”
“Never mind,” said Norval; “it won’t do to appear not to understand. Ranny, you’re the old judge, you know, because you’re in the middle, so you must ask the questions. You had better ask what the prisoner’s name is. Now, look grave,” said he, as he observed the dimples in his brother’s cheeks beginning to show again.
Ranulf pursed his lips up very tight, and then said, “I want to know what the pretty lady’s name is?”