“But if there be a Court why can’t us get in and try un, Mr. Rapley?”
“Ah, now that is putting it pointedly;” and O’Rapley closed one eye and looked into his tumbler with the other before he answered:
“You see this is how it goes under the continerous
sittings—off and on we sits continerously at Nisy Prisy in London three months in the year. Now that ain’t bad for London: but it’s nothing near so much time as they gives to places like Aylesbury, Bedford, and many others.”
Mr. Bumpkin looked like a terrier dog watching a hole out of which he expected a rat: at present he saw no sign of one.
“Take Aylesbury; well now, if a Judge went there once in seven years he’d find about every other assize enough work to last him till lunch. But in course two Judges must go to Aylesbury four times a year, to do nothing but admire the building where the Courts are held; otherwise you’d soon have Aylesbury marching on to London to know the reason why. P’r’aps the Judges have left five hundred cases untried in London to go to this Aylesbury.”
“Be it a big plaace, sir?”
“Not so big as a good-sized hotel,” said the Don. “Then,” he continued, “there’s Bedford ditto again—septennel would do for that; then comes Northampton—they don’t want no law there at all.” (I leave the obvious pun to anyone who likes to make it). “Then Okeham again—did you ever hear of anyone who came from Okeham? I never did.”
The Don paused, as though on the answer to this question depended his future course.
“Noa,” said Bumpkin, “can’t rightly say as ever I did.”