The uproar was deafening. From four to six negroes were trying to speak at the same time. Aleck’s majestic mouth with blue gums and projecting teeth led the chorus as he ambled down the aisle, his bow-legs flying their red-sock ensigns.
The Speaker singled him out—his voice was something which simply could not be ignored—rapped and yelled:
“De gemman from Ulster set down!”
Aleck turned crestfallen and resumed his seat, throwing his big flat feet in their red woollens up on his desk and hiding his face behind their enormous spread.
He had barely settled in his chair before a new idea flashed through his head and up he jumped again:
“Mistah Speaker!” he bawled.
“Orda da!” yelled another.
“Knock ’im in de head!”
“Seddown, nigger!”
The Speaker pointed his gavel at Aleck and threatened him laughingly: