'Cora Jones,' she said."
Through the smoke of her bewilderment something irate stirred within
Miss Schump, a smouldering sense of anger that burst out into a brief
tongue of flame.
"You! You! You're no amachure! Cora Jones! Cora Kinealy! Go tell it to
the great Danes! Say it again! Gimme leave! Gimme leave!" The immediate
peremptoriness of the gavel set her to blinking, but did not silence.
"'Gimme leave,' was what I said--"
"Come to order in the court!"
"Aw!"
A new presence at her elbow grasped her sharply. She subsided, but still
muttering.
"Proceed, officer."
"And then, when she starts off with me, I says to her, I says, 'You're
under arrest,' and brought her over."
"That'll do."
"Does the defendant wish to take the chair?"
From her elbow, "His Honor asks if you want to state your case."
"Huh?"
"Do you wish to state your case from the witness-chair? Since you did
not employ counsel, do you wish to state your own case?"
"Nit."
"Look up here, my girl. I am the judge, trying to help you."
"Aw!"
"Is this your first offense?"
"Well, it's my offense, ain't it?"
"Address the court properly. Are you intoxicated or only slightly
dizzy?"
"He lied about Cora Kinealy.
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