“I should like to know how I’m to forge away, with these two asses fooling about down here? Why can’t you raise them to the bench to keep them quiet? Oh yes—well, you see, this kid, being new, and green, and about as high old an idiot as they make them—did you fellows see him on first-night? I say! oh my—”
“Look here, Wheatfield,” said the judge, sternly, “if you aren’t done in three minutes, I’ll call the next witness.”
“He wouldn’t know anything about it, bless you,” said Percy. “You see, it was like this—this kid thought I was Wally—what do you think of that?”
“Cheek. Jolly rough on Wally,” remarked Cash. The witness looked at the interrupter, and tried to make out whether his remark was a compliment or the reverse. He decided that, as he had only three minutes left, he had better defer thinking the question out till afterwards.
“So, of course, he began to swagger about his big brother—”
“No, you asked me—” began the prisoner.
“Shut up,” cried Percy, sternly, “how am I to get done in three minutes if—”
“Only two left now,” said Ramshaw.
“Go on, Ram, I’ve not been a minute yet.”
“Yes, you have—sixty-five seconds,” said Ramshaw, who held his watch in his hand.