arraign the united judgment of the committee's legal talent? Such was the
note Mr. Truesdale so admirably struck. As though fascinated, I continued
to gaze at Krebs. I hated him, I desired to see him humiliated, and yet
amazingly I found myself wishing with almost equal vehemence that he
would be true to himself. He was rising,--slowly, timidly, I thought, his
hand clutching his desk lid, his voice sounding wholly inadequate as he
addressed the Speaker. The Speaker hesitated, his tone palpably
supercilious.

"The gentleman from--from Elkington, Mr. Krebs."

There was a craning of necks, a staring, a tittering. I burned with
vicarious shame as Krebs stood there awkwardly, his hand still holding
the desk. There were cries of "louder" when he began; some picked up
their newspapers, while others started conversations. The Speaker rapped
with his gavel, and I failed to hear the opening words. Krebs paused, and
began again. His speech did not, at first, flow easily.

"Mr. Speaker, I rise to protest against this bill, which in my opinion is
not so innocent as the gentleman from St. Helen's would have the House
believe. It is on a par, indeed, with other legislation that in past
years has been engineered through this legislature under the guise of
beneficent law. No, not on a par. It is the most arrogant, the most
monstrous example of special legislation of them all. And while I do not
expect to be able to delay its passage much longer than the time I shall
be on my feet--"

"Then why not sit down?" came a voice, just audible.

As he turned swiftly toward the offender his profile had an eagle-like