"You belong to a socalled tradesunion?" inquired Assemblyman Brown.
"I will ask the honorable Mr Brown to modify his question by having the word 'socalled' struck from it."
"I will inform the honorable attorney general that my question stands exactly as I phrased it," rejoined Assemblyman Brown sharply. "I'll remind the attorney general I myself am a member in good standing of a legitimate union, namely the International Brotherhood of Embalmers, Morticians, Gravediggers and Helpers, and when I asked the witness if he belonged to a socalled tradesunion I was referring to any one of those groups of Red conspirators who attempt to strangle the economic body by interfering with the normal course of business and mulcting honest citizens of tributary dues before they can pursue their livelihoods."
Judge Robinson cupped his ear again and glared at me. "Speak up man; stop mumbling."
"I don't belong to any union," I answered as soon as there was a chance for my words to be heard. Senator Jones took a notebook from his pocket, consulted it, put it back, scribbled something on the pad in front of him, tore it up, looked at his notebook again and asked, "What is your connection with this ... um ... grass?"
"I applied Miss Francis' Metamorphizer to it, sir," I answered.
"Nonsense," said Judge Robinson sharply.
"Explain yourself," demanded Attorney General Smith.
"Tell us just what this stuff is and how you applied it," suggested Henry Miller.