“Hear!  Hear!” “That’s so!” “Bully for you!” “What yer got to say now, eh?” “Take a vote!” “Pass the box!” resounded through the transom amid a tremendous scuffling of feet and scraping of chairs.

“Phelan!” gasped Mr. Tutt.  “Who shall ever again have the temerity to suggest that the jury system is not the greatest of our institutions?”

“Pst!” answered Cap.  “Listen!  Sh-h.  By God!  They’ve acquitted him!”

* * * * *

“So you caught the five-fifteen after all!” was Eleanor’s greeting as the model juror jumped off the train.  “I was terribly afraid you wouldn’t!  I hope you didn’t let any rascal get away from you?”

“No!” He laughed as he leaped into the motor beside her.  “Not a rascal!  And I’ve got a surprise for you!  I’m going to have my vacation after all!”

“Really!” she cried, delighted.  “You clever boy!  How did you manage it?”

“Well,” he answered a little shamefacedly as he lit a cigarette, “the fact is that when the jury I was on returned their verdict this afternoon the judge said he wouldn’t require our services any longer.”

* * * * *

It was at about the same moment that two other good and true friends stood at the foot of the steps leading up to Mr. Tutt’s ramshackle front door.

“Sorr!” Danny was saying in a trembling voice, the tears in his faded eyes.  “Sorr!  I would go to jail a hundred years and more, so I would, could I but hear again what they all said of me!  Sure, I niver knew I was any account at all, at all!  And them sayin’ what a fine man I was, an’ all!  God bless ye, sorr!  And whin ye stand, sorr, at the bar of heaven before God, the Judge, and the jury of all his holy angels, if there be none else to defend ye, sure old Danny Lowry’ll be there to do that same.”