XXVIII
THE SUMMING UP
The barrister who had ventured to give a public
expression to his opinion was that nursling of
wealth, the youthful ex-president of the Oxford
Union.
"You've done it now," said the son of the Master of the Rolls. "They will have in the roof. They were only waiting for a leader."
"With all respect to your school," said the ex-president heatedly, "this fellow is a disgrace to it, also to his profession. It was the act of a black-*guard to throw that at the judge. He is not a gentleman."
"Rough, of course, on the poor old judge, but he's playing to win, as he always did. Hullo, the poor old boy is coming up to the scratch."
Order had been at last restored, or more correctly had restored itself; and in thin and shaken tones the judge began his summing up. He had conquered his emotion, and in a perfectly simple, plain, and audible manner he was able to give expression to that which he desired to say. It afforded the keenest relief to the bar, which was so profoundly jealous of professional prestige, that after all the presiding judge should be able to reassert himself sufficiently to invest with a certain dignity his own procedure in his own court. His words were charged with deep feeling, but the most critical among his
