“Good-day, your ‘ludship,’” said Rex, with a mocking bow; “will your ‘ludship’ hold court to-day?”

“Yes, let’s have court and try a prisoner,” cried Charlie, who began to feel rather proud of his unusual appearance.  “You don’t mind, do you, Rex?”

“Why, no!  I think it’ll be no end of fun,” was the merry reply.  “One of us could be the prisoner, and the other the barrister who defends him.  I’d better be the barrister, because I know more about English law than Selwyn does.  And the furniture’ll have to be the other counsel and the gentlemen of the jury.  Sit over there, Charlie, near that railing, and we’ll make believe it’s the bar.  The only trouble is the barrister will have no gown and wig.  Isn’t it a pity?”

“Let’s take the table cover,” suggested Selwyn, which was immediately acted upon.  With their combined efforts, amid much laughter, it was draped about Rex’s shoulders in a fashion very nearly approaching the graceful style of a North American Indian’s blanket.  A Russian bath towel, which they also found in the closet, was arranged on his head for a wig; then Selwyn was placed behind a chair which was supposed to be the prisoner’s box, the judge took his place, and court opened.

The ceremony differed from any previously known in judicial experience, and bursts of merry laughter disturbed the dignity of the learned judge and counsel, to say nothing of the prisoner.

“The prisoner at the bar, your ‘ludship,’” began the counsel, striving to steady his voice, “has stolen a—­a—­a—­what shall I say you have stolen?” addressing Selwyn in a stage whisper.

  “Tom, Tom, the piper’s son,
  Stole a pig,
  And away did run;
  The pig was eat,
  And Tom was beat,
  And Tom went roaring
  Down the street,”

sang the prisoner, in a sweet little voice.

“Your ‘ludship,’ singing is contempt of court; you will please fine the prisoner at the bar,” said the counsel, regardless of the fact that the prisoner was supposed to be his client.

“Silence, both of you!” cried the judge, with impartial justice, rapping his desk sharply with a brass paper-cutter.  “Now, Mr. Barrister, state the case.”  Then, in an aside, “Wasn’t that well said?”

“The prisoner has stolen a pig, your ‘ludship,’” said the counsel.  “He admits it, but as the animal has been eaten—­”

“And the prisoner has been beaten,” put in the incorrigible Selwyn.

“And the prisoner is a stranger in a strange land,” continued Rex, ignoring the irrelevant remark, “a most noble and learned American—­ahem!—­what sentence, your ‘ludship,’ shall be passed upon him?”

“Hum, hum!” said his “ludship,” resting his cheek on his hand meditatively, trying to assume the expression which he had seen sometimes on papa’s face when he and Selwyn were under consideration for some childish offence.

“The court waits, your ‘ludship,’” remarked the counsel, throwing a paper ball at the judge.