“The gentleman from Cook asks unanimous consent to have senate bill 578 taken up out of the regular order, read at large a third time, and put upon its passage. Are there any objections?”
The speaker raised his gavel, waited an instant, and said:
“The chair hears—”
But suddenly a voice beside Jamie rang out like a bugle:
“Object!”
The speaker looked up in amazement. The members of the gang turned about in their seats with startled, guilty faces; the rich gentlemen on the speaker’s red lounge leaned forward with pained expressions. Mr. Meredith was striding down the center aisle, his hat in his hand, his face red, his eyes on fire.
Half-way down the aisle he halted, and once more shouted in that fearless note:
“I object! A million people in Chicago to-night are waiting to hear from this house on this franchise bill—I dare you to take it up in this star-chamber session!”
Mr. Meredith’s hand swept a wide arc that included the whole house as he flung his defiance, and then he stood glaring at them all. The eyes that met Mr. Meredith’s eyes quailed; the house was still. No one rose, no one replied to him.
Then after a long minute of this painful silence the speaker, lowering his head until Jamie could not see his face, said in a low voice: