“Are there contestants?” said the Court.
Then from their seats within the bar of the court room there arose a decorous multitude of lawyers, short and tall, old and young, fat and lean, the white-bearded Nestors, and the complacent, chirping chipmunks of the bar, and in various forms of expression it clearly appeared that there were contestants.
“I think,” said his Honor with a weary smile, “that my associates might have sent this case to another department, for I have had a surfeit of contested will cases. Proceed, Mr. Bruff.”
“In behalf of the Society of Bug Hunters, who are legatees under a former will,” said a sepulchral voice, proceeding from the rotund diaphragm of a bald-headed and full-bearded gentleman, “I have twenty-three objections to offer to the admission to probate of the alleged will of Lorin French, and—”
“Will my learned brother Lester permit me to interrupt him for a moment,” twanged a catarrhal tone, “while I state that I wish my appearance entered here on behalf of the recognized natural son of the deceased, and I protest—”
“On the part of the Australian cousins of Lorin French,” shrieked a lean man with red hair, “I have a preliminary objection to offer to the will being read in court at all, and—”
“I object!”
“I except!”
“Will your honor please note the exception of the Nevada heirs?”
“I demand to be heard!”