The audience, however, did not confine themselves to mere whispers. No one spoke out aloud; but gradually there arose a humming and buzzing—an indescribable rumour, broken now and again by some lady’s giggle—which sadly interfered with the majesty of the law.
In vain did the usher exert the full power of his lungs. His shout of “silence” produced its effect for the moment; but it was only for the moment. The instant after the universal buzzing began again as if a huge swarm of bees had taken possession of the pandoppo.
“What an insufferable bore that clerk is to be sure!” simpered Mrs. van Gulpendam.
“He leaves the reading to his nose,” remarked Mr. Thomasz.
“Mind your chief does not hear you,” said one of the ladies.
“Pray don’t tell him!” cried Thomasz, “he does not know he talks through his gable—if he did, he might try and improve.”
“Be quiet, Mr. Thomasz,” said Laurentia, with a burst of laughter, “you really must not make us laugh so.”
“What? I, madam?” asked the clerk.
“You? Of course. The Resident calls you a dry comical fellow.”
“How, madam, do you mean to say the Resident applies such terms to me?”