Chantrey.  Touch of frost.  Birds ought to come well to the guns—­no wind.  I like these October days.

Mayor.  I think I ’ear them.  H’m.

Chantrey drops his eyeglass and puts on a pair of “grandfather” spectacles.  The Mayor clears his throat and takes up a pen.  They neither of them look up as the door is opened and a little procession files in.  First Harris; then Ralph builder, Athene, Herringhame, Maud, Mrs builder, Sergeant Martin, carrying a heavy Malacca cane with a silver knob; John builder and the constable Moon, a young man with one black eye.  No funeral was ever attended by mutes so solemn and dejected.  They stand in a sort of row.

Mayor. [Without looking up] Sit down, ladies; sit down.

Harris and Herringhame succeed in placing the three women in chairs.  Ralph builder also sits.  Herringhame stands behind.  John builder remains standing between the two policemen.  His face is unshaved and menacing, but he stands erect staring straight at the Mayor.  Harris goes to the side of the bureau, Back, to take down the evidence.

Mayor.  Charges!

Sergeant.  John Builder, of The Cornerways, Breconridge, Contractor and Justice of the Peace, charged with assaulting his daughter Maud Builder by striking her with a stick in the presence of Constable Moon and two other persons; also with resisting Constable Moon in the execution of his duty, and injuring his eye.  Constable Moon!

Moon. [Stepping forward-one, two—­like an automaton, and saluting] In River Road yesterday afternoon, Your Worship, about three-thirty p.m., I was attracted by a young woman callin’ “Constable” outside a courtyard.  On hearing the words “Follow me, quick,” I followed her to a painter’s studio inside the courtyard, where I found three persons in the act of disagreement.  No sooner ’ad I appeared than the defendant, who was engaged in draggin’ a woman towards the door, turns to the young woman who accompanied me, with violence.  “You dare, father,” she says; whereupon he hit her twice with the stick the same which is produced, in the presence of myself and the two other persons, which I’m given to understand is his wife and other daughter.

Mayor.  Yes; never mind what you’re given to understand.

Moon.  No, sir.  The party struck turns to me and says, “Come in.  I give this man in charge for assault.”  I moves accordingly with the words:  “I saw you.  Come along with me.”  The defendant turns to me sharp and says:  “You stupid lout—­I’m a magistrate.”  “Come off it,” I says to the best of my recollection.  “You struck this woman in my presence,” I says, “and you come along!” We were then at close quarters.  The defendant gave me a push with the words:  “Get out, you idiot!” “Not at all,” I replies, and took ’old of his arm.  A struggle ensues, in the course of which I receives the black eye which I herewith produce. [He touches his eye with awful solemnity.]