"But he was such an ass!" said the prisoner.
"No reason at all why you should roar at him," said the court, "and disturb everybody and make them feel uncomfortable."
"An awful ass!" persisted the prisoner.
"The world is full of them," said the court "If you were to roar at every one you meet you'd never have time for anything else. Life would degenerate into one long roar. Everybody knows that Professor Titcombe is a ninny and an idiot, but the decencies of intercourse require you to say, 'How nice!' or 'How interesting!' to his remarks.
"But he had never even been in Colorado," vociferated Coal Oil Johnny. "It was all lies and hearsay and gas. But I have, and I know all about it, and if you want proof I have a scar on my head where a dago shot me at Telluride!"
"Prisoner's motion to show scar overruled," said the court.
"Isn't it about time to let me off?" pleaded Mr. Bassity. "Surely I've listened like a lamb to everything you've said to me? I've been slapped on one cheek and then on the other, and if I haven't always come up smiling it isn't that I haven't tried. It stings a fellow to hear such things to his face; it hurts a fellow more than I think you know; for I may not be up to the general standard of your friends, but I guess my feelings are just as sensitive, and my regard and respect for all three of you is not a whit behind theirs. I dare say this has amused you very much, and I don't grudge for a minute the fun you've had out of it—but suppose we call it off now and be friends again, and—and —talk about something else!" He looked earnestly from one to another.
There was something so naive and affecting in Bassity's plea for mercy that for a moment his three persecutors looked almost ashamed of themselves. Grace Sinclair's eyes filled with tears, and she rose and went over to him and patted his hand.
"Cheer up," she said, smiling. "We've reinstated you now, and like you better than we ever did before."
"And oo'll be mamma's little darling and will never be naughty again?" added Miss Hemingway.