"Did you ever hear of such a thing?" he asked. "The impertinence of the fellow! To stand there and criticize the honorable judge to his face! Why, he should have been fined for contempt of court, and imprisoned as well, without benefit of clergy too—no pun intended."
"And none charged," replied the rector. "I'm not sure, though, but that the man was more than half right."
"Why, Mr. Farrar!" exclaimed Barry; "my dear sir! If juries were permitted to take the law into their own hands, what would become of our republican institutions? Where would be our guarantees of law and order? The next step in advancing civilization, sir, will be the complete abolition of the entire jury system."
"Along with the obsolete form of democratic government, I suppose," laughed the rector.
"I am not prepared at this moment," replied Barry, "to go to that extreme; but incidents of unblushing presumption, such as we have just witnessed, make one feel that some kind of a curb must be put on the lower and less intelligent classes, or they will become actually tyrannical."
In the meantime the judge had left the bench. The court-room audience was shuffling noisily out. The jurors, who had just rendered their enforced verdict, found their hats, and all except No. 7 strolled down the aisle by twos and threes discussing the sudden ending of the case. The lawyer for the plaintiff gathered up his books and papers, thrust them into his green bag, and then stopped to consult with the plaintiff's wife. Westgate and his client strolled across the bar enclosure to where Barry and the rector were standing.
"Congratulations, old boy!" said Barry to the lawyer. "You did a fine piece of work!"
"Oh," replied Westgate carelessly, "the case was easy. The law was all on our side." He turned to
