law, that appalled Miss Prudence. Speech-*making is not penal. Would that it were; but a respectable spinster, mixed up in a baby farming case, the only witness to her truth and bonâ fides a helpless, speechless infant, can scarcely hope to clear herself satisfactorily.
Prudence knew that her story was wild and improbable; her illness had further disheartened her. She felt sure that no one would believe her on her oath, and this conviction gave a hesitation to her manner, an uncertainty to her statements, that branded her in the eyes of all as an audacious but unskilful liar.
"Come! she might 'ave told a better one than that!" was the whispered remark in the gallery when, in answer to a question, she declared that the infant handed over by her to the prisoner was her sister.
"Do you mean your step-sister?" asked the magistrate. "She is very much younger than you."
"No, sir. She is my sister. My elder sister."
There was a roar of laughter at this extraordinary statement.
"Your elder sister?"
