tness-box, diving after it with such precipitancy that her bonnet
jammed violently against the rail of the box.

She disappeared from view for a moment, and then rose from the depths
with a purple face and her bonnet flattened and cocked over one ear like
an artillery-man's forage cap.

"Kiss the Book, if you please," said the usher, suppressing a grin by an
heroic effort, as Mrs. Hornby, encumbered by her purse, her handkerchief
and the Testament, struggled to unfasten her bonnet-strings. She clawed
frantically at her bonnet, and, having dusted the Testament with her
handkerchief, kissed it tenderly and laid it on the rail of the box,
whence it fell instantly on to the floor of the court.

"I am really very sorry!" exclaimed Mrs. Hornby, leaning over the rail
to address the usher as he stooped to pick up the Book, and discharging
on to his back a stream of coins, buttons and folded bills from her open
purse; "you will think me very awkward, I'm afraid."

She mopped her face and replaced her bonnet rakishly on one side, as
Anstey rose and passed a small red book across to her.

"Kindly look at that book, Mrs. Hornby."

"I'd rather not," said she, with a gesture of repugnance. "It is
associated with matters of so extremely disagreeable a character--"

"Do you recognise it?"

"Do I recognise it! How can you ask me such a question when you must
know--"

"Answer the question," interposed the judge. "Do you or do you not
recognise the book in your hand?"

"Of course I recognise it. How could I fail to--"

"Then say so," said the judge.

"I have said so," retorted Mrs. Hornby indignantly.

The judge nodded to Anstey, who then continued--"It is called a
'Thumbograph,' I believe."

"Yes: the name 'Thumbograph' is printed on the cover, so I suppose that
is what it is called."

"Will you tell us, Mrs. Hornby, how the 'Thumbograph' came into your
possession?"

For one moment Mrs. Hornby stared wildly at her interrogator; then she
snatched a paper from her purse, unfolded it, gazed at it with an
expression of dismay, and crumpled it up in the palm of her hand.

"You are asked a question," said the judge.

"Oh! yes," said Mrs. Hornby. "The Committee of the Society--no, that is
the wrong one--I mean Walter, you know--at least--"

"I beg your pardon," said Anstey, with polite gravity.

"You were speaking of the committee of some society," interposed the
judge. "What society were you referring to?"

Mrs. Horn