"
His Worship (from the Bench): "Thank you, Mrs Johnson. I'm feeling
very well this, morning."
There's a pause, but there is no "laughter." The would-be satellites
don't know whom the laugh might be against. His Worship bends over
the papers again, and I can see that he is having trouble with that
quaintly humorous and kindly smile, or grin, of his. He has as hard
a job to control his smile and get it off his face as some magistrates
have to get a smile on to theirs. And there's a case coming by and
by that he'll have to look a bit serious over. However--
"Jane Johnson!"
Mrs Johnson is here present, and reminds the Sergeant that she is.
Then begins, or does begin in most courts, the same dreary old drone,
like the giving out of a hymn, of the same dreary old charge:
"You -- Are -- Charged -- With -- Being -- Drunk -- And -- Disorderly
-- In -- Such -- And -- Such -- A -- Street -- How -- Do -- You --
Plead -- Guilty -- Or -- Not -- Guilty?" But they are less orthodox
here. The "disorderly" has dropped out of Mrs Johnson's charge
somehow, on the way from the charge room. I don't know what has been
going on behind the scenes, but, anyway, it is Christmas-time, and the
Sergeant seems anxious to let Mrs Johnson off lightly. It means
anything from twenty-four hours or five shillings to three months on
the Island for her. The lawyers and the police--especially the
lawyers--are secretly afraid of Mrs Johnson.
However, again---
The Sergeant: "This woman has not been here for six weeks, your
Worship.
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