"Damn those children!" said Dummer, to the man next him.

The event of the trial came, however, when Peter summed up. He spoke
quietly, in the simplest language, using few adjectives and no
invective. But as the girl at the Pierces' dinner had said, "he
describes things so that one sees them." He told of the fever-stricken
cows, and he told of the little fever-stricken children in such a way
that the audience sobbed; his clients almost had to be ordered out of
court; the man next Dummer mopped his eyes with his handkerchief; the
judge and jury thoughtfully covered their eyes (so as to think the
better); the reporters found difficulty (owing to the glary light), in
writing the words despite their determination not to miss one; and even
the prisoner wiped his eyes on his sleeve. Peter was unconscious that he
was making a great speech; great in its simplicity, and great in its
pathos. He afterwards said he had not given it a moment's thought and
had merely said what he felt. Perhaps his conclusion indicated why he
was able to speak with the feeling he did. For he said:

"This is not merely the case of the State _versus_ James Goldman. It is
the case of the tenement-house children, against the inhumanity of man's
greed."

Dummer whispered to the man next him, "There's no good. He's done for
us." Then he rose, and made a clever defence. He knew it was wasting his
time. The judge charged against him, and the jury gave the full verdict:
"Man-slaughter in the first degree." Except for the desire for it, the
sentence created little stir. Every one was still feeling and thinking
of Peter's speech.