Page:The Blind Bow-Boy (IA blindbowboy00vanv).pdf/67

 The judge looked up for the first time; nor, it should be noted, did he look down again.

Address?

56 East Thirty-seventh Street: this in a considerably lower tone.

What do you know about this case?

I was driving in the taxi-cab.

Go on, Miss Blake, put in the judge in a manner which was kindly but certainly not paternal. Tell us your story in your own way.

That man—she pointed to the Irishman—ran into my car. . . . He turned to the left.

The prisoner was sworn.

Your honour. ..

Don't lie now! Tell the truth! The judge was stern. His eyes were on Alice.

Your honour, I. . . Yer see, it wern't my fault. There wern't no signal at that corner. . . I was turnin'. ..

To the left, interjected the lawyer for the taxi-driver.

Were you drunk?

No, your honour: with great indignation.

Was he drunk? This to the policeman.

I don't think so, your honour.

I'm tired of these cases. You truck-drivers think you can run the streets. This little girl—he beamed through his pince-nez at the shrinking Miss Blake—has been thoroughly shaken up as a result of your wanton behaviour. I cannot have the