Magistrate.  Yes—­yes; we’ll stop at that.  Now [To the Father] you say that she has broken up your home, and left these little girls.  What provision can you make for them?  You look a strong man.

Livens.  So I am, your Worship.  I’m willin’ enough to work, but for the life of me I can’t get anything to do.

Magistrate.  But have you tried?

Livens.  I’ve tried everything, your Worship—­I ’ve tried my ’ardest.

Magistrate.  Well, well——­ [There is a silence.]

Relieving officer.  If your Worship thinks it’s a case, my people are willing to take them.

Magistrate.  Yes, yes, I know; but I’ve no evidence that this man is not the proper guardian for his children.

     [He rises oval goes back to the fire.]

Relieving officer.  The mother, your Worship, is able to get access to them.

Magistrate.  Yes, yes; the mother, of course, is an improper person to have anything to do with them. [To the Father.] Well, now what do you say?

Livens.  Your Worship, I can only say that if I could get work I should be only too willing to provide for them.  But what can I do, your Worship?  Here I am obliged to live from ’and to mouth in these ’ere common lodging-houses.  I ’m a strong man—­I’m willing to work —­I’m half as alive again as some of ’em—­but you see, your Worship, my ‘airs’ turned a bit, owing to the fever—­[Touches his hair]—­and that’s against me; and I don’t seem to get a chance anyhow.

Magistrate.  Yes-yes. [Slowly.] Well, I think it ’s a case. [Staring his hardest at the little girls.] Now, are you willing that these little girls should be sent to a home.

Livens.  Yes, your Worship, I should be very willing.

Magistrate.  Well, I’ll remand them for a week.  Bring them again to-day week; if I see no reason against it then, I ’ll make an order.

Relieving officer.  To-day week, your Worship.

     [The bald constable takes the little girls out by the
     shoulders.  The father follows them.  The magistrate, returning
     to his seat, bends over and talks to his clerk inaudibly.]

Barthwick. [Speaking behind his hand.] A painful case, Roper; very distressing state of things.

Roper.  Hundreds like this in the Police Courts.

Barthwick.  Most distressing!  The more I see of it, the more important this question of the condition of the people seems to become.  I shall certainly make a point of taking up the cudgels in the House.  I shall move——­

     [The magistrate ceases talking to his clerk.]

Clerk.  Remands!

     [Barthwick stops abruptly.  There is a stir and Mrs. Jones
     comes in by the public door; Jones, ushered by policemen, comes
     from the prisoner’s door.  They file into the dock.]