“Yes, sir.” “How long did it take you to go there?” “Well, we walked; and as it was from the extreme edge of the town, and there was no hurry, I judge it took us about twenty minutes, maybe a trifle more.” “About what hour was the kick delivered?” “About thirteen minutes and a half to ten.” “Admirable! You are a pattern witness, Mr. Buckstone. How did you happen to look at your watch at that particular moment?” “I always do it when I see an assault. It's likely I shall be called as a witness, and it's a good point to have.” “It would be well if others were as thoughtful. Was anything said, between the conversation at my house and the assault, upon the detail which we are now examining into?” “No, sir.” “If power over the mutual legs was in the possession of one brother at nine, and passed into the possession of the other one during the next thirty or forty minutes, do you think you could have detected the change?” “By no means!” “That is all, Mr. Buckstone.” Mrs. Patsy Cooper was called. The crowd made way for her, and she came smiling and bowing through the narrow human lane, with Betsy Hale, as escort and support, smiling and bowing in her wake, the audience breaking into welcoming cheers as the old favorites filed along. The judge did not check this kindly demonstration of homage and affection, but let it run its course unrebuked. The old ladies stopped and shook hands with the twins with effusion, then gave the judge a friendly nod, and bustled into the seats provided for them. They immediately began to deliver a volley of eager questions at the friends around them: “What is this thing for?” “What is that thing for?” “Who is that young man that's writing at the desk? Why, I declare, it's Jack Bunce! I thought he was sick.” “Which is the jury? Why, is that the jury? Billy Price and Job Turner, and Jack Lounsbury, and--well, I never!” “Now who would ever 'a' thought--” But they were gently called to order at this point, and asked not to talk in court. Their tongues fell silent, but the radiant interest in their faces remained, and their gratitude for the blessing of a new sensation and a novel experience still beamed undimmed from their eyes. Aunt Patsy stood up and took the oath, and Mr. Allen explained the point in issue, and asked her to go on now, in her own way, and throw as much light upon it as she could. She toyed with her reticule a moment or two, as if considering where to begin, then she said: “Well, the way of it is this. They are Luigi's legs a week at a time, and then they are Angelo's, and he can do whatever he wants to with them.” “You are making a mistake, Aunt Patsy Cooper,” said the judge. “You shouldn't state that as a fact, because you don't know it to be a fact.” “What's the reason I don't?” said Aunt Patsy, bridling a little. “What is the reason that you do know it?” “The best in the world because they told me.” “That isn't a reason.” “Well, for the land's sake! Betsy Hale, do you hear that?”