_C. N_. (_sobbing_). Judicially, judicially!

_M. P_. How silly you are! I really don't know what you mean. Well, if you won't come with me, I'm off; but you know where to go when you want your dinner. But if you still owe me a grudge, which would be very silly of you, any of the people in the houses yonder will give you your food.

[_Exit_.

_C. N_. There! She's going to fetch some ferocious revolutionaries to make an end of me. It's no use trying to stop her now. I will flee in another direction; perhaps I shan't always meet people I've sentenced.

[_As he is going he runs up against_ WILLIAM JOYCE, _once_ SOCIALIST ENSIGN, _entering from the other side_.

_William Joyce_. Hilloa, citizen! look out! (_looking at him_) But I say, what's the matter with you? You are queerly rigged. Why, I haven't seen a man in such a condition for many a long day. You're like an ancient ruin, a dream of past times. No, really I don't mean to hurt your feelings. Can I do anything to help you?

[C. N. _covers his face with his hands and moans_.

_W. J_. Hilloa! Why, I'm blessed if it isn't the old bird who was on the bench that morning, sentencing comrade Jack! What's _he_ been doing, I wonder? I say, don't you remember me, citizen? I'm the character who came in with the red flag that morning when you were playing the last of your queer games up yonder. Cheer up, man! we'll find something for you to do, though you have been so badly educated.

_C. N_. Spare me, I entreat you! Don't let it be known who I am, pray don't, or I shall certainly be hanged. Don't hang me; give me hard labour for life, but don't hang me! Yes, I confess I was Judge Nupkins; but don't give me up! I'll be your servant, your slave all my life; only don't bring me before a magistrate. They are so unfair, and so hard!

_W. J_. Well, what do you think of a judge, old fellow?

_C. N_. That's nearly as bad, but not quite; because sometimes there's a cantankerous blackguard on the jury who won't convict, and insists on letting a man off. But, please, pray think better of it, and let it be a private matter, if you must needs punish me. I won't bring an action against you, whatever you do. Don't make it a judicial matter! Look here, I'll sign a bond to be your servant for ever without wages if you will but feed me. I suffer so from not having my meals regularly. If you only knew how bad it is to be hungry and not to be sure of getting a meal.

_W. J_. Yes, Nupkins; but you see, I _do_ know only too well--but that's all gone by. Yet, if you had only known that some time ago, or let's say, guessed at it, it might have been the better for you now.

_C. N_. (_aside_; Oh, how jeering and hard he looks!) Oh, spare me, and don't send me to the workhouse! You've no idea how they bully people there. I didn't mean to be a bad or hard man; I didn't indeed.

_W. J_. Well, I must say if you meant to be anything else, you botched the job! But I suppose, in fact, you didn't mean anything at all.--So much the worse for you. (_Aside_: I must do a little cat and mouse with him).

_C. N_. Oh, spare me, spare me! I'll work so hard for you. Keep it dark as to who I am. It will be such an advantage you're having me all to yourself.

_W. J_. Would it, indeed? Well, I doubt that.

_C. N_. Oh, I think so. I really am a good lawyer.

_W. J_. H'm, that would be rather less useful than a dead jacka.s.s--unless one came to the conclusion of making cat's meat of you.

_C. N_. (_aside_, Oh, I'm sick at heart at his hinted threats). Mr.

Socialist, don't you see I could put you up to all sorts of dodges by which you could get hold of odds and ends of property--as I suppose you have some sort of property still--and the t.i.tles of the land must be very shaky just after a revolution? I tell you I could put you up to things which would make you a person of great importance; as good as what a lord used to be.

_W. J_. (_aside_, Oh, you old blackguard! What's bred in the bone won't come out of the flesh. I really must frighten the old coward a little; besides, the council _has_ got to settle what's to be done with him, or the old idiot will put us to shame by dying on our hands of fright and stupidity.) (_To_ N.) Nupkins, I really don't know what to do with you as a slave; I'm afraid that you would corrupt the morals of my children; that you would set them quarrelling and tell them lies. There's nothing for it but you must come before the Council of our Commune: they'll meet presently under yonder tree this fine day.

_C. N_. No, no, don't! Pray let me go and drag out the remainder of a miserable existence without being brought before a magistrate and sent to prison! You don't know what a dreadful thing it is.

_W. J_. You're wrong again, Nupkins. I know all about it. The stupid red tape that hinders the Court from getting at the truth; the impossibility of making your stupid judge understand the real state of the case, because he is not thinking of you and your life as a man, but of a set of rules drawn up to allow men to make money of other people's misfortunes; and then to prison with you; and your miserable helplessness in the narrow cell, and the feeling as if you must be stifled; and not even a pencil to write with, or knife to whittle with, or even a pocket to put anything in. I don't say anything about the starvation diet, because other people besides prisoners were starved or half-starved. Oh, Nupkins, Nupkins! it's a pity you couldn't have thought of all this before.

_C. N_. (_aside_: Oh, what terrible revenge is he devising for me?) (_to_ W. J.) Sir, sir, let me slip away before the Court meets. (_Aside_: A pretty Court, out in the open-air! Much they'll know about law!)

_W. J_. Citizen Nupkins, don't you stir from here! You'll see another old acquaintance presently--Jack Freeman, whom you were sending off to six years of it when the red flag came in that day.--And in good time here he is.

[_Enter_ JACK FREEMAN, _sauntering in dressed in a blouse, smoking, a billyc.o.c.k on his head, and his hands in his pockets_.

_W. J_. There's your judge, Citizen Nupkins! No, Jack, you needn't take your hands out of your pockets to shake hands with me; I know your ways and your manners. But look here! (_pointing to_ NUPKINS).

_J. F_. Why, what next? There's no mistaking him, it's my old acquaintance Mr. Justice Nupkins. Why you seem down on your luck, neighbour. What can I do to help you?

[NUPKINS _moans_.

_W. J_. (_winking at_ FREEMAN). You've got to try him, Jack.

_J. F_. Why, what has he been doing? (_Aside_, I say, old fellow, what game are you up to now?)

_W. J_. Doing? why nothing. That's just it; something must be done with him. He must come before the council: but I'm afraid he's not of much use to anyone. (_Aside_, I say, Jack, he is a mere jelly of fear: thinks that we are going to kill him and eat him, I believe. I must carry it on a little longer; don't spoil all my fun.)

_J. F_. (_Aside_, _to_ W. J.) Well, certainly he deserves it, but take care that he doesn't die of fear on your hands, Bill. (_Aloud_) Well, the council will meet in a minute or two, and then we will take his case.

_C. N_. (_to_ J. F.) Oh, sir, sir, spare me and don't judge me! I'll be servant to you all my life!

_W. J_. Why Nupkins, what's this? You promised to be a servant to _me_!

_J. F_. Citizen Nupkins, I really must say thank-you for nothing. What the deuce could I do with a servant? Now don't you trouble yourself; the council will see to your affairs. And in good time here come the neighbours.

[_Enter the Neighbours_, ROBERT PINCH, MART PINCH, _and others_.

_W. J_. Now for it, Nupkins! Bear your own troubles as well as you used to bear other peoples', and then you'll do very well.

JACK FREEMAN _takes his seat on the ground under the tree, the others standing and sitting about him_: WILLIAM JOYCE _makes a show of guarding_ NUPKINS, _at which the neighbours look rather astonished; but he nods and winks to them, and they see there is some joke toward and say nothing_.

_J. F_. Well, neighbours, what's the business to-day?

_1st Neighbour_. I have to report that three loads of that oak for the hall-roof have come to hand; it's well-seasoned good timber, so there need be no hitch in the building now.

_2nd Neighbour_. Well, chairman, we sent off the wool to the north-country communes last week, and they are quite satisfied with it.

Their cloth has come to hand rather better than worse than the old sample.

_3rd Neighbour_. I have to report that the new wheel at the silk mill is going now, and makes a very great improvement. It gives us quite enough power even when the water is small; so we shan't want a steam-engine after all.

_J. F_. When do we begin wheat harvest?

_3rd Neighbour_. Next Thursday in the ten-acre; the crop is heavy and the weather looks quite settled; so we shall have a jolly time of it.

_J. F_. Well, I'm glad I know in good time; for I never like to miss seeing the first row of reapers going into the corn. Is there anything else?

_W. J_. Well, there's one troublesome business, chairman (_looks_ _at_ C. N., _who trembles and moans_). There's that dog we caught, that thief, that useless beast. What is to be done with him?

_C. N_. (_Aside_, That's me! that's me! To think that a justice should be spoken of in such language! What am I to do? What am I to do?)

_2nd Neighbour_. Well, chairman, I think we must shoot him. Once a thief always a thief, you see, with that kind of brute. I'm sorry, because he has been so badly brought up; and though he is an ugly dog, he is big and burly; but I must say that I think it must be done, and as soon as possible. He'll be after the girls if we don't do it at once!

_C. N_. (_Aside_: What! have they got hold of that story, then?)

_J. F_. Well, neighbours, what's to be said? anybody against it? Is this unpleasant business agreed to?