"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.

"I will that," said Mrs. Fitzpatrick with emphasis. "Where was I?
The man an' his childer. Sure, I'll tell Yer 'Anner." Here she
turned to the judge. "Fer he," with a jerk of her thumb towards the