"He said, your honor, that she'd been following him down Madison Street
for a block, talking to him and finally he stopped and she asked him--"
"Shh! Paula, don't! Bad girl! Shh!"
That man with the black mustache. Who was he?
"Yes, your honor, I never saw her before. I walk in the street and she
come up and talk to me and say, 'You wanna come home with me?'"
"Blanche, how long has this been going on?"
Look, Blanche was crying. Shh, Paula, shh! The judge was speaking. But
Blanche didn't listen. The woman with the child was going to say,
"Blanche, the judge," but her tongue grew frightened.
"Speak up, Blanche." The judge said this.
* * * * *
She could hardly hear Blanche. It was funny to see her cry. Long ago she
used to cry when she was a baby like Paula. But since she went to work she
never cried. Never cried.
"Oh, judge! Oh, judge! Please--"
"Shh, Paula! Da-ah-ah-ah--" Why was this? What would the judge do?
"Have you ever been arrested before, Blanche?"
No, no, no! She must tell the judge that. The woman with the child raised
her face.
"Please, judge," she said, "No! No! She never arrested before. She's a
good girl."
"I see," said the judge.
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