which were equally unintelligible to one not acquainted with current
legislation. During one of them a man of imposing appearance entered
and was apparently congratulated by almost every one in the room, the
Senators leaving their seats and coming to the middle aisle, where he
stood, to shake him by the hand. Betty felt sorry for Leontine, who
was on the verge of tears, but determined to remain until Senator
North appeared if she did not leave until it should be time to dress
for dinner.

He entered finally and went straight to his desk. He looked
preoccupied, and began writing at once. In a few moments the clerk
commenced to read from a document, and Senator North laid aside his
pen and listened attentively. So did several other Senators. It was a
very long document, and Betty, who could not understand one word in
ten as delivered by the clerk's rumbling monotonous voice, was
desperately bored, and was glad her Senators had the solace of the
cloak-rooms. Several did in fact retire to them, but when the clerk
sat down and Senator North rose, they returned; and Betty felt a
personal pride in the fact that they were about to listen to the
Senator whom herself had elected to honour.

She had to lean forward and strain her ears to hear him. It was
evident that he did not recognize the existence of the gallery, for he
did not raise his voice from beginning to end; and yet it was of that
strong rich quality that might have carried far. But it neither "rang
out like a clarion," nor "thundered imprecation." Neither did he utter
an impassioned phrase nor waste a word, but he denounced the bill as a
party measure, exposed its weak points, riddled it with sarcasm, and
piled up damaging evidence of partisan zeal. "This is an honourable
body," he concluded, "and few measures go out of it that are open to