By three o'clock the jury was declared satisfactory to the prosecution. It was Wiley's turn. His manner was very different from O'Bannon's—more conciliating. He seemed to woo the jury with what Lydia described in her own mind as a perfumed voice.
Number 2, in answer to Wiley's questions, admitted a prejudice against automobiles, since it was now impossible to drive his cows home along the highroad. He was excused.
Number 7, who had once owned a flourishing poultry farm, had been obliged to give it up.
"On account of motors?"
"Yes, and because it didn't pay."
Did he feel his prejudice was such as to prevent his rendering an impartial verdict in this case?
Number 7 looked blank and sulky, like a little boy stumped in class, and at last said it wouldn't.
"Excused," said Wiley.
"But I said it wouldn't," Number 7 protested.
"Excused," said Wiley, fluttering his hand.