“Well, well, let us get on.  Let us suppose that this woman is his wife.  How did the prisoner treat this woman?”

“An’ how should he trate her?”

“Did he support her?”

“An’ why should he, with her havin’ two hands av her own?”

“Well now, Mrs. Fitzpatrick, surely you will say that it was a case of cruel neglect on the part of the prisoner that he should leave her to care for herself and her children, a stranger in a strange land.”

“Indade, it’s not fer me to be runnin’ down the counthry,” exclaimed Mrs. Fitzpatrick.  “Sure, it’s a good land, an’ a foine counthry it is to make a livin’ in,” she continued with a glow of enthusiasm, “an’ it’s mesilf that knows it.”

“Oh, the country is all right,” said Mr. Staunton impatiently; “but did not this man abandon his wife?”

“An’ if he’s the man ye think he is wudn’t she be the better quit av him?”

The lawyer had reached the limit of his patience.

“Well, well, Mrs. Fitzpatrick, we will leave the wife alone.  But what of his treatment of the children?”

“The childer?” exclaimed Mrs. Fitzpatrick,—­“the childer, is it?  Man dear, but he’s the thrue gintleman an’ the tinder-hearted father fer his childer, an’ so he is.”

“Oh, indeed, Mrs. Fitzpatrick.  I am sure we shall all be delighted to hear this.  But you certainly have strange views of a father’s duty toward his children.  Now will you tell the court upon what ground you would extol his parental virtues?”

“Faix, it’s niver a word I’ve said about his parental virtues, or any other kind o’ virtues.  I was talkin’ about his childer.”

“Well, then, perhaps you would be kind enough to tell the court what reason you have for approving his treatment of his children?”

Mrs. Fitzpatrick’s opportunity had arrived.  She heaved a great sigh, and with some deliberation began.

“Och! thin, an’ it’s just terrible heart-rendin’ an’ so it is.  An’ it’s mesilf that can shpake, havin’ tin av me own, forby three that’s dead an’ gone, God rest their sowls! an’ four that’s married, an’ the rest all doin’ well fer thimsilves.  Indade, it’s mesilf that has the harrt fer the childer.  You will be havin’ childer av yer own,” she added confidentially to the lawyer.

A shout of laughter filled the court room, for Staunton was a confirmed and notorious old bachelor.

“I have the bad fortune, Mrs. Fitzpatrick, to be a bachelor,” he replied, red to the ears.

“Man dear, but it’s hard upon yez, but it’s Hivin’s mercy fer yer wife.”

The laughter that followed could with difficulty be suppressed by the court crier.

“Go on, Mrs. Fitzpatrick, go on with your tale,” said Staunton, who had frankly joined in the laugh against himself.