affords to the observer; their mouths were almost all a little open,
and their eyes fixed with intensity on the Bench. The three
magistrates--Squire Pleydell in the chair, Dr. Becket on his left, and
'the Honble' Calmady on his right--were by most seen for the first time
in their judicial capacity; and curiosity was divided between their
proceedings and observation of the rector's prosecutor, a small baker
from the town whence the village of Trover derived its necessaries. The
face of this fellow, like that of a white walrus, and the back of his
bald head were of interest to everyone until the case was called, and
the rector himself entered. In his thin black overcoat he advanced and
stood as if a little dazed. Then, turning his ravaged face to the Bench,
he jerked out:

'Good morning! Lot of people!'

A constable behind him murmured:

'Into the dock, sir, please.'

Moving across, he entered the wooden edifice.

'Quite like a pulpit,' he said, and uttered his barking laugh.

Through the court ran a stir and shuffle, as it might be of sympathy
with his lost divinity, and every eye was fixed on that tall, lean
figure, with the shaven face, and red, grey-streaked hair.

Entering the witness-box, the prosecutor deposed as follows:

'Last Tuesday afternoon, your Honours, I 'appened to be drivin' my cart
meself up through Trover on to the cottages just above the dip, and I'd
gone in to Mrs. 'Oney's, the laundress, leavin' my cart standin' same as
I always do. I 'ad a bit o' gossip, an' when I come out, I see this
gentleman walkin' away in front towards the village street. It so
'appens I 'appened to look in the back o' my cart, and I thinks to
meself, That's funny! There's only two flat rounds--'ave I left two 'ere
by mistake? I calls to Mrs. 'Oney, an' I says, "I 'aven't been absent,
'ave I, an' left ye two?" "No," she says, "only one--'ere 'tis! Why?"
she says. "Well," I says, "I 'ad four when I come in to you, there's
only two now. 'Tis funny!" I says. "'Ave you dropped one?" she says.
"No," I says, "I counted 'em." "That's funny," she says; "perhaps a
dog's 'ad it." "'E may 'ave," I says, "but the only thing I see on the
road is that there." An' I pointed to this gentleman. "Oh!" she says,
"that's the rector." "Yes," I says, "I ought to know that, seein' 'e's
owed me money a matter of eighteen months. I think I'll drive on," I
says. Well, I drove on, and come up to this gentleman. 'E turns 'is
'ead, and looks a