सत्का मटका 143

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"Now you've done it!" cried Judith in distress. "She knows all about it, and I meant it for a surprise! Oh dear!",

I took possession of it and carried it to a bench in the garden that backs up against the purple sprayed lilacs and is flanked by two rows of tall purple and white iris that stand in line ready for a Virginia reel with a delicate row of the poet's narcissus across the broad path. I love my flowers. I love them swaying on their stems in the wind, and I like to snatch them and crush the life out of them against my breast and face. I have been to bed every night this spring with a bunch of cool violets against my cheek, and I feel that I am going to dance with my tall row of hollyhocks as soon as they are old enough to hold up their heads and take notice. They always remind me of very stately gentlemen, and I have wondered if the little narcissus weren't shaking their ruffles at them.,

"Assuredly. You loved Maurice--",

"Do you mean to say that Dido killed Mr. Alymer?" she asked, nervously.

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"I don't believe it.",

Judith as she kissed him was wrinkling her smooth brows at him. "But I thought you were going to bring Tom Hughes——" she began, hesitatingly.,

Sleep is one of the most delightful and undervalued amusements known to the human race. I have never had enough yet, and every second of time that I'm not busy with something interesting, I curl up on the bed and go dream-hunting—only I sleep too hard to do much catching. But this torture book found that out about me, and stopped it the very first thing on page three. The command is to sleep as little as possible to keep the nerves in a good condition—"eight hours at the most, and seven would be better." What earthly good would a seven-hour nap do me? I want ten hours to sleep and twelve if I get a good tired start. To see me stagger out of my perfectly nice bed at six o'clock every morning now would wring the sternest heart with compassion and admiration at my faithfulness—to whom?,

Her Majesty's judges on circuit came to Deanminster, the court was formally opened, and after some trivial cases had been disposed of, the trial of Regina v. Etwald was announced. The hall in which the court sat was crowded with people from far and near. There were even reporters from London, sent down by the great dailies, for the case had obtained more than a local celebrity. Inspector Arkel, with his seven witnesses on behalf of the crown, was at the table before the judges, and with Major Jen had held several conversations with the public prosecutor. David, calm and composed, but paler than a corpse, was in his place glancing over his brief and exchanging curt sentences with Etwald's solicitor. Lastly, Etwald himself, the terrible criminal who, in the eyes of the public, was a hardened and bloodthirsty monster, stepped into the dock. Suave and smiling, he pleaded not guilty to the indictment, and the trial commenced.