“And nobody ever did come from there except the Judges. Well, to Okeham they go four times a year, whereas if they was to go about once in every hundred years it wouldn’t pay. Why raly, Mr. Bumpkin, the Judges goes round like travellers arfter orders, and can’t
get none. I’m not talkin’, as you are aware, about great centres like Liverpool, where if they had about fifty-two assizes in the year it wouldn’t be one too many; but I’m talking about circumfrences on the confines of civilization.”
“Oh dear!” sighed Bumpkin. The hole seemed to him too choked up with “larnin’” for the rat ever to come out—he could glean nothing from this highly wrought and highly polished enthusiasm.
“And, notwithstanding and accordingly,” continued the Don, “they do say, goodness knows how true it is, that they’re going to have two more assizes in the year. All that I can say is, Mr. Bumpkin—and, mark my words, there’ll be no stopping in London at all, but it will be just a reg’ler Judge’s merry-go-round.” [138]
Mr. Bumpkin dropped a look into his glass, and the two companions came out of the door and proceeded along under the archway until they came to the corner of Bridge Street, Blackfriars. Exactly at that point a young woman with a baby in her arms came in contact with Mr. Bumpkin, and in a very angry tone said,—
“I tell you what it is, don’t you take them liberties with me or I’ll give you in charge.”
And the young woman passed on with her baby.
Just at that moment, and while Master Bumpkin was meditating on this strange conduct of the young female, he felt a smart tug at his watch, and, looking down, saw the broken chain hanging from his pocket.
“Zounds!” he exclaimed, “I never zeed anything claner than thic; did thee zee thic feller?”
“There he goes,” said O’Rapley.