The youth accused of burglary is led in. He is sullen, defiant, but uneasy withal. The detectives are not ready to go on with his case, and he is remanded. The father makes an ineffectual appeal for bail, and then goes home—home, ah! This furnishes the criminal docket!
An abusive language case comes up. Mrs. Drake is charged by Mrs. Gosling with the offence. Mrs. Gosling is a sharp-featured lady in an old-fashioned bonnet and a tired shawl. Mrs. Drake is the woman with the wet lips, the moist eye and the baby.
“Now,” queries the Magistrate good naturedly, “what is this all about.”
“Your Worship,” says Mrs. Drake, “she called me a dirty scut.”
“Oh, listen till her! listen till her!” shrieks Mrs. Gosling, raising her hands and eyes, “how can you tell a lie like that and you on your oat?”
“What is a scut,” queries the Magistrate.
“Oh, Your Worship, I wouldn’t shame myself by using such a word.”
“I never called her a scut!” screams Mrs. Gosling, “I never did. She sed I wasn’t married to me man.”
“Neither ye are.”
“Oh, ye lyin’ hussy, how dar you stand there and—”