"Attention!" said the clerk.
The little prisoner turned and faced the court. And the "old lion" buried his shaggy, gray head and beard in his hands and groaned aloud.
"Now, then, what is your name, my lad--my girl, I should say?" inquired the clerk.
"Capitola, sir."
Old Hurricane pricked up his ears and raised his head, muttering to himself: "Cap-it-o-la! That's a very odd name! Can't surely be two in the world of the same! Cap-it-ola!--if it should be my Capitola, after all! I shouldn't wonder at all! I'll listen and say nothing." And with this wise resolution, Old Hurricane again dropped his head upon his hands.
"You say your name is Capitola--Capitola what?" inquired the clerk, continuing the examination.
"Nothing sir."
"Nothing! What do you mean?"
"I have no name but Capitola, sir."
"Who is your father?"
"Never had any that I know, sir."
"Your mother?"
"Never had a mother either, sir, as ever I heard."
"Where do you live?"
"About in spots in the city, sir."
"Oh--oh--oh!" groaned old Hurricane within his hands.
"What is your calling?" inquired the clerk.
"Selling newspapers, carrying portmanteaus and packages sweeping before doors, clearing off snow, blacking boots and so on."
"Little odd jobs in general, eh?"
"Yes, sir, anything that I can turn my hand to and get to do."
"Boy--girl, I should say--what tempted you to put yourself into male attire?"
"Sir?"
"In boy's clothes, then?"
"Oh, yes; want, sir--and--and--danger, sir!" cried the little prisoner, putting her hands to a face crimson with blushes and for the first time since her arrest upon the eve of sobbing.
"Oh--oh--oh!" groaned Old Hurricane from his chair.
"Want? Danger? How is that?" continued the clerk.
"Your honor mightn't like to know."
"By all means! It is, in fact, necessary that you should give an account of yourself," said the clerk.
Old Hurricane once more raised his head, opened his ears and gave close attention.
One circumstance he had particularly remarked--the language used by the poor child during her examination was much superior to the slang she had previously affected, to support her assumed character of newsboy.
"Well, well--why do you pause? Go on--go on, my good boy--girl, I mean I" said the Recorder, in a tone of kind encouragement.