As many of the jury as can crowd together at the table sit there.

The rest get among the spittoons and pipes or lean against the piano.

Over the coroner's head is a small iron garland, the pendant handle of a bell, which rather gives the majesty of the court the appearance of going to be hanged presently.
Call over and swear the jury! While the ceremony is in progress, sensation is created by the entrance of a chubby little man in a large shirt-collar, with a moist eye and an inflamed nose, who modestly takes a position near the door as one of the general public, but seems familiar with the room too.

A whisper circulates that this is Little Swills.

It is considered not unlikely that he will get up an imitation of the coroner and make it the principal feature of the Harmonic Meeting in the evening.
"Well, gentlemen--" the coroner begins.
"Silence there, will you!" says the beadle.