Judge Witherspoon shook his head.

"I want to hear the other side," he remarked. "The mere fact that the
defendant put up a sign warning the public against the dog may be taken
as some evidence that he had knowledge of the animal's vicious
propensities. I shall let the case go to the jury unless this evidence
is contradicted or explained. Reserve your motion."

"Very well, Your Honor," agreed Tutt, patting himself upon the abdomen.
"I will follow your suggestion and call the defendant. Mr. Appleboy,
take the stand."

Mr. Appleboy heavily rose and the heart of every fat man upon the jury,
and particularly that of the Abyssinian brother upon the back row, went
out to him. For just as they had known without being told that the new
Mrs. Tunnygate was a vixen, they realized that Appleboy was a kind,
good-natured man--a little soft, perhaps, like his clams, but no more
dangerous. Moreover, it was plain that he had suffered and was, indeed,
still suffering, and they had pity for him. Appleboy's voice shook and
so did the rest of his person as he recounted his ancient friendship for
Tunnygate and their piscatorial association, their common matrimonial
experiences, the sudden change in the temperature of the society of
Throggs Neck, the malicious destruction of their property and the
unexplained aggressions of Tunnygate upon the lawn. And the jury,
believing, understood.

Then like the sword of Damocles the bessemer voice of Pepperill severed
the general atmosphere of amiability: "Where did you get that dog?"

Mr. Appleboy looked round helplessly, distress pictured in every
feature.

"My wife's aunt lent it to us."

"How did she come to lend it to you?"

"Bashemath wrote and asked for it."

"Oh! Did you know anything about the dog before you sent for it?"

"Of your own knowledge?" interjected Tutt sharply.

"Oh, no!" returned Appleboy.

"Didn't you know it was a vicious beast?" sharply challenged Pepperill.

"Of your own knowledge?" again warned Tutt.

"I'd never seen the dog."

"Didn't your wife tell you about it?"

Tutt sprang to his feet, wildly waving his arms: "I object; on the
ground that what passed between husband and wife upon this subject must
be regarded as confidential."

"I will so rule," said Judge Witherspoon, smiling. "Excluded."

Pepperill shrugged his shoulders.

"I would like to ask a question," interpolated the editor of Baby's
World.

"Do!" exclaimed Tutt eagerly.

The editor, wh