“Let’s take a vote,” suggested Bently.

“Vell, let’s understand vat we’re doin’,” admonished the foreman.  “Do you gen’l’muns all understand that we’re tryin’ to convict this feller for doctoring a horse without a prescription?”

“You mean a license, don’t you?” inquired Bently.

“Sure—­a license.  All right!  Let’s get a vote.”

The first ballot resulted in seven for acquittal, four for conviction, and one blank—­Bently’s.

“I don’t know who the fellers are that voted for acquittal!” suddenly announced a juror with a red face.  “But I know this Brown personally, and he’s all right.  You can rely on him absolutely.  He goes to the same place as me in the summer—­Cottage Point.  If any of you gentlemen want a good quiet place—­”

“Any mosquitoes?” inquired an unknown irreverently.

“No more’n anywheres else near New York.”

They took another ballot and found that the juryman who knew Brown had brought over two others to conviction, so that the jury was now evenly divided, Bently voting irresponsibly for acquittal.

“Look here!” proposed the man in black.  “Let’s argue this out.  Suppose I put the various propositions and you vote on ’em each separately.”

“Shoot ahead!” adjured somebody.

“Now, first, all who think this defendant claimed to be a veterinary say aye.”

“Wait a minute!” interposed the tall man, who was still standing by the window.  “Maybe I am a nut.  But I wish someone would explain to me which is the defender.  I thought Mr. Tutt was the defender.”

“Oh, my Lord!” groaned a flabby salesman in a pink tie.  “Defend-ant—­a-n-t—­remember your ant!  He’s the man we’re trying!  The other one is the complainant!”

“The only one that had any complaint was the horse”, protested the tall man.  “But I understand now—­we’re tryin’ the defendant.  I’ve never served on a jury before.  Now, what’s the question?”

“Did the defendant—­ant—­claim to be a licensed veterinary—­when he wasn’t?”

“Now wait a second,” objected the tall man again.  “I want to get this straight.  Is it the point that if this old man pretended he was a horse doctor when he wasn’t he has to go to jail?”

“Sure.”

“But the other man pretended he was a doctor.”

“But he was trying to trick the defendant.”

“But the first feller wasn’t a doctor any more than the other feller.  Why not convict the first feller?”

There was a chorus of groans from about the table.

“You ought not to be here at all!” remarked the salesman acidly.  “You’re simple-minded, you are!  You keep still now and vote with the majority, or we’ll tell the judge on you!”

The tall man subsided.

“Vell,” suddenly interjected the foreman, “he admitted he was guilty in the bolice gourt.”

“Sure!” “That’s so!” “Pass the box again!” came from all hands.