Even so, it was not cheering.
At the upper end, under one of the windows, were ranged five seats on a dais, with a long baize-covered table before them.

Then, on a lower level, stood the clerk's and solicitors' table, fenced by a rail from the vulgar crowd who pressed in, hot and excited, to see the criminals and hear justice done.

There was a case arising from an ancient family feud, exploded at last into crime; one lady had thrown a clog at another as the last repartee in a little dialogue held at street doors; the clog had been well aimed, and the victim appeared now with a very large white bandage under her bonnet, to give her testimony.

This swelled the crowd beyond its usual proportions, as both ladies were well known in society.
The General was a kindly-looking old man (Frank recognized his name as soon as he heard it that morning, though he had never met him before) and conversed cheerily with his brother magistrates as they took their seats.

The Rector was--well, like other rectors, and the Squire like other squires.
* * * * * It was a quarter to twelve before the ladies' claims were adjusted.