The other half of the room, to Jarvis’s horror, was full of young boys and girls, some almost children, there out of curiosity. A goodly number of street walkers sat at the back. It was their habit to come into court to see what judge was sitting. If it was one who levied strict fines, or was prone to send girls up to Bedford, they spent the evening there, instead of on the streets.
The first case called, after Jarvis’s entrance, was that of the keeper of a disorderly house. She was horrible. He felt she ought to be branded in some way, so that she and her vile trade would be known wherever she went. A man went her bail, and she flounced out in a cloud of patchouli.
Two coloured girls were brought in, and sent up for thirty days. Then several old women, the kind of human travesties Jarvis had seen sleeping on the benches, were marched before the judge, who called them all by name.
“Well, Annie,” he said to one of them, “you haven’t been here for some weeks. How did it happen this time?”
“I’ve been a-walkin’ all day, your honour. I guess I fell asleep in the doorway.”
“You’ve been pretty good lately. I’ll let you off easy. Fine, one dollar.”
