In a small unventilated room overlooking the Keep the Jury considered their share of the verdict. "Gentlemen," said one (he was an auctioneer and a Town Commissioner), "you heard what the Deemster said. We can't let her off but we can recommend her to mercy." "Why should we?" said another, a tall landowner with a bad reputation about women. "She killed her child. Let her swing, I say." "But she said she didn't intend to and that she was out of herself and frightened by her step-father," said a third--a fat butcher who was sitting astride on a chair and making it creak under him. "Chut! That was only an after-thought," said a fourth--a little bald-headed English grocer. "Still and for all we know what Dan Baldromma is," said the butcher, "an infidel who believes neither in God nor the devil." "He's devil enough himself," said the grocer. "His father was the 'angman." "That was his uncle," said the butcher. "No, but his father. They called him Dan the Black, and after the 'anging of Patrick Kelly of Kentraugh...." "Question! Question!" cried the Town Commissioner. "Let's keep to the point, gentlemen." "Let's get finished and away," said the grocer. "I've 'ad an addition to my family, I may tell you. A son at last after four daughters. My wife's getting up to-day and we're to 'ave a turkey for dinner. Let the woman off, I say." "But we can't, man. Didn't you hear what the Deemster said?" "Then let the 'uzzy 'ang." "Are we to recommend the girl to mercy--that's the question," said the Town Commissioner. "Why shouldn't we?" said the butcher. "Hundreds and tons of girls have done as bad before now, and nobody a penny the wiser. Why make flesh of one and fowl of another?" "If we show mercy to women of this sort we'll only encourage them in their bad conduct," said the landowner. This led to a random discussion on the question of Women or Men, which were the worst? The landlord was loud in denunciation of women, the butcher was more indulgent. "Look here," said the butcher, "this isn't a game a woman can go into a corner and play all by herself, you know. For every bad woman there's a bad man knocking about somewhere." "A man isn't always filling his house with by-children anyway," said the landowner. "No," said the butcher, "but he is sometimes filling other people's though." "That's personal, and I won't stand it," cried the landowner, and then there were loud shouts with much smiting of the table. In the midst of the tumult a quiet voice was heard to say, "Hadn't we better lay this matter before the Lord, brothers?" It was a northside farmer and local preacher, who (not always to his financial advantage) had made it the rule of his life, whether in the reaping of his corn or the sowing of his turnips, to wait for Divine guidance. In another moment he was on his knees, and one by one his fellow-jurymen, including the long landowner, had slithered down after him.