Here the clerk of arraigns, who sat just under the learned Judge, and was always consulted on matters of practice when there was any difficulty, was seen whispering to his lordship: after which his lordship looked very blank and red.
“We always consult him, my lord,” said Mr. Nimble, with a smile, “in suits at Common Law.”
Everybody tried not to laugh, and everybody failed. Even the Judge, being a very good-tempered man, laughed too, and said:
“O yes, Taylor on Evidence, Mr. Nimble.”
At last the book, about the size of a London Directory, was handed up by a tall man who was Mr. Nimble’s clerk.
“Now, my lord, at page nineteen hundred and seventy-two your lordship will find that when the credibility of a witness is attacked—”
Judge: “That will be near the end of the book.”
Mr. Nimble: “No, my lord, near the beginning.”
“I shall not stop you,” said the learned Judge; “your question may be put for what it is worth: but now, suppose in answer to your question she says she is an ironer, what then?”
“That’s what I am, my lordship,” said the woman, with an obsequious curtsey.