"And when night came and she hadn't got home, did you go in search of her?"
"Yes, your worship; for I says to my husband, says I, 'Poor young thing, I can't rest in my bed, and knowing nothing of what's come to her.' And my man, he says to me, 'Maggie,' he says, 'you go to the station and give the officers her description,' he says—'a tall young woman as might ha' been a lady, a-carrying a baby—- that'll be good enough,' he says, and I went. And this morning the officer came, and I knew by his face as something had happened, and—"
"Let us hear the doctor. Is he in court?"
"Yes, your worship," said the constable.
Mrs. Drayton was being bustled out of the box. She stopped on the first step down—
"And I do hope as no harm will come to her—she's not responsible—that's what my hus—"
"All right, we know all that; down with you; this way; don't bother his worship!"
At the bottom of the steps the woman stopped again with a handkerchief to her eyes.
"And it do make me cry to see her, poor thing, and the baby, too, and innocent as a kitten—and I hopes if anything is done to her as—"
Mrs. Drayton's further hopes and fears were lost in the bustle of the court. The young woman in the dock still gazed about her vacantly. There was strength in her firmly molded lip, sensibility in her large dark eyes, power in her broad, smooth brow, and a certain stateliness in the outlines of her tall, slim figure.