The noise astonished Senator Harrison, and he looked around with
something like resentment. When the tumult at last subsided, and he
saw that he was expected to make a speech, he grew very red, and
grasped his chair desperately.

The reporters were back in their places, leaning nervously forward.
This was Senator Harrison's chance to say something worth putting
into a panel by itself with black lines around it--and they were
sure he would do it.

But he did not. He stood there like a schoolboy who had forgotten
his piece--growing more and more red. "I--I think," he finally
jerked out, "that some of us have been mistaken. I'm in favour now
of--of giving him his chance."

They waited for him to proceed, but after a helpless look around the
Chamber he sat down. The president of the Senate waited several
minutes for him to rise again, but he at last turned his chair
around and looked out at the green things on the State-house
grounds, and there was nothing to do but go ahead with the second
calling of the roll. This time it stood 50 to 12 in favour of the
boy.

A motion to adjourn immediately followed--no one wanted to do
anything more that afternoon. They all wanted to say things to the
Senator from Johnson; but his face had grown cold, and as they were
usually afraid of him, anyhow, they kept away. All but Senator
Dorman--it meant too much with him. "Do you mind my telling you," he
said, tensely, "that it was as fine a thing as I have ever known a
man to do?"