waistcoat pocket, and he says that's below the belt. If he likes to
wear his belt round his neck, of course he gets hit under."

"And if you wear yours round your ankle, there's not much room for your
bread-basket," retorted Cottle.

"And where does Fisher minor come in?" asked the judge; "was he in the
middle of the mill?"

"No. You see, we were just in the middle of it, and these jolly cheats
were beginning to cave in--"

"Ho, ho!--It would take a lot more than you to make us--"

"Order in the court--go on, Wheatfield."

"There you are--shut up, you chaps--beginning to cave in, when
Clapperton yelled for me, and I had to go."

"Lucky job for you," growled Cottle. "You wouldn't have been able to go
at all five minutes later."

Whereupon Percy appealed to the court to keep order.

"Fire away," said the judge, "that's nothing to do with the prisoner."

"Oh, hasn't it!--You see, Clapperton wanted me to take a letter to
Yorke. It must have been a screamer, for Yorke yelled when he read it.
I wanted him to let me finish our mill first, but--"

"Who, Yorke?"

"No, Clapperton. If there'd been time for another round--"

"Now, then, don't let's have any more of that mill," said the judge.

"That's just what they felt at the time, wasn't it, Lick?" ejaculated
Cottle.

"Did we?--wait till you see, my beauty," said the witness. "I wish you
wouldn't interrupt. Oh, so I had to go, and this kid came and caught me
a jolly crack in the stomach."

"Which side of your belt?" inquired Lickford.

"The side you'll get it hot, my boy, next time I catch you," retorted
Percy.

"That'll be under, you bet," said Lickford.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," said the prisoner, who began to hope that
the charge against him was to prove much less serious than he had at
first feared, "I apologise."

"Shut up, don't talk to me--talk to the jury."

As the jury at this moment was struggling manfully to protect his
hassock from the depredations of Cash, who was anxious to investigate
its interior, it was not much use addressing him; so Fisher subsided,
and wished the hole of Percy's wash-stand had been at least so much
easier in diameter as to allow him room to sigh.

"Fire away," said the judge, "we shall be all night at this."

"Well, you see," continued Percy, "it's this way. I've got a brother,
you know, called Wally, a seedy Classic chap, and up to no end of low
tricks."

"We know him," echoed the court generally.