Then like the sword of Damocles the bessemer voice of Pepperill severed the general atmosphere of amiability:  “Where did you get that dog?”

Mr. Appleboy looked round helplessly, distress pictured in every feature.

“My wife’s aunt lent it to us.”

“How did she come to lend it to you?”

“Bashemath wrote and asked for it.”

“Oh!  Did you know anything about the dog before you sent for it?”

“Of your own knowledge?” interjected Tutt sharply.

“Oh, no!” returned Appleboy.

“Didn’t you know it was a vicious beast?” sharply challenged Pepperill.

“Of your own knowledge?” again warned Tutt.

“I’d never seen the dog.”

“Didn’t your wife tell you about it?”

Tutt sprang to his feet, wildly waving his arms:  “I object; on the ground that what passed between husband and wife upon this subject must be regarded as confidential.”

“I will so rule,” said Judge Witherspoon, smiling.  “Excluded.”

Pepperill shrugged his shoulders.

“I would like to ask a question,” interpolated the editor of Baby’s World.

“Do!” exclaimed Tutt eagerly.

The editor, who was a fat editor, rose in an embarrassed manner.

“Mr. Appleboy!” he began.

“Yes, sir!” responded Appleboy.

“I want to get this straight.  You and your wife had a row with the Tunnygates.  He tried to tear up your front lawn.  You warned him off.  He kept on doing it.  You got a dog and put up a sign and when he disregarded it you sicked the dog on him.  Is that right?”

He was manifestly friendly, merely a bit cloudy in the cerebellum.  The Abyssinian brother pulled him sharply by the coat tails.

“Sit down,” he whispered hoarsely.  “You’re gumming it all up.”

“I didn’t sic Andrew on him!” protested Appleboy.

“But I say, why shouldn’t he have?” demanded the baby’s editor.  “That’s what anybody would do!”

Pepperill sprang frantically to his feet.

“Oh, I object!  This juryman is showing bias.  This is entirely improper.”

“I am, am I?” sputtered the fat editor angrily.  “I’ll show you—­”

“You want to be fair, don’t you?” whined Pepperill.  “I’ve proved that the Appleboys had no right to hedge in the beach!”

“Oh, pooh!” sneered the Abyssinian, now also getting to his feet.  “Supposing they hadn’t?  Who cares a damn?  This man Tunnygate deserved all he’s got!”

“Gentlemen!  Gentlemen!” expostulated the judge firmly.  “Take your seats or I shall declare a mistrial.  Go on, Mr. Tutt.  Call your next witness.”

“Mrs. Appleboy,” called out Tutt, “will you kindly take the chair?” And that good lady, looking as if all her adipose existence had been devoted to the production of the sort of pies that mother used to make, placidly made her way to the witness stand.

“Did you know that Andrew was a vicious dog?” inquired Tutt.