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"Now what I want to know is where th' jury gets off. What has that collection iv pure-minded pathrites to larn fr'm this here polite discussion, where no wan is so crool as to ask what anny wan else means? Thank th' Lord, whin th' case is all over, the jury'll pitch th' tistimony out iv th' window, an' consider three questions: 'Did Lootgert look as though he'd kill his wife?
A large German man is charged with puttin' his wife away into a breakfas'-dish, an' he says he didn't do it. Th' on'y question, thin, is, Did or did not Alphonse Lootgert stick Mrs. L. into a vat, an' rayjooce her to a quick lunch? Am I right?" "Ye ar-re," said Mr. Hennessy. "That's simple enough.
If ye can't projooce her in a week, I'll fix ye. An' let that be th' end iv it. "But what do they do? They get Lootgert into coort an' stand him up befure a gang iv young rayporthers an' th' likes iv thim to make pitchers iv him. Thin they summon a jury composed iv poor tired, sleepy expressmen an' tailors an' clerks. Thin they call in a profissor from a colledge.
What th' coort ought to've done was to call him up, an' say: 'Lootgert, where's ye'er good woman? If Lootgert cudden't tell, he ought to be hanged on gin'ral principles; f'r a man must keep his wife around th' house, an' whin she isn't there, it shows he's a poor provider. But, if Lootgert says, 'I don't know where me wife is, the coort shud say: 'Go out, an' find her.
"An' he's been that proud iv th' victhry that he's been a reg'lar customer f'r a week." "Annything new?" said Mr. Hennessy, who had been waiting patiently for Mr. Dooley to put down his newspaper. "I've been r-readin' th' tistimony iv th' Lootgert case," said Mr. Dooley. "What d'ye think iv it?" "I think so," said Mr. Dooley. "Think what?" "How do I know?" said Mr. Dooley.
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