“You say, Mrs. Pope, that you had often seen the stocking in which Mrs. Goodwin kept her gold. Of what material was that stocking?”
“Wool—yes, of blue woollen yarn. A stocking knit by hand, and very darny.”
“Should you know the stocking, Mrs. Pope, were you to see it again?”
“I think I might. Dolly Goodwin and I looked over the gold together more than once; and the stocking got to be a sort of acquaintance.”
“Was this it?” continued Dunscomb, taking a stocking of the sort described from Timms, who sat ready to produce the article at the proper moment.
“If it please the court,” cried Williams, rising in haste, and preparing eagerly to interrupt the examination.
“Your pardon, sir,” put in Dunscomb, with great self-command, but very firmly—“words must not be put into the witness’s mouth, nor ideas into her head. She has sworn, may it please your honour, to a certain stocking; which stocking she described in her examination in chief; and we now ask her if this is that stocking. All this is regular, I believe; and I trust we are not to be interrupted.”
“Go on, sir,” said the judge; “the prosecution will not interrupt the defence. But time is very precious.”
“Is this the stocking?” repeated Dunscomb.
The woman examined the stocking, looking inside and out, turning it over and over, and casting many a curious glance at the places that had been mended.