“Don’t heed him, Mr. Robson. He’ll fight, too, when the time comes.” “In a capitalistic war? Do I look as soft a mark as that!” retorted the Socialist disdainfully. “In an American war,” said Eli Wade. “Don’t you think it! Nine tenths of the people are dead against war. There’s a bill coming up this session that’ll tell the war-birds where they get off.” “Where did you learn about it?” asked Jeremy. “The Party is going to back it. It’ll carry without any trouble. The yellow-bellies won’t dare kick for fear of the German vote.” “Then they might as well raise the German flag over the Capitol,” declared the Boot & Shoe Surgeon fiercely. “German nothing! We’ll have the red flag of brotherhood there yet, Eli.” Considerations of policy delayed the presentation of the bill. When it was offered, Jeremy put it on record all over the State, in an editorial of protest, dubbing it the “Surrender Bill.” But no leader could be found in the Legislature who dared back this bold course. German intimidation had done its work too well. The most that the opponents of the bill ventured was to obstruct its passage by parliamentary obstacles. Even that much brought down upon the offender the threats of an organized Deutschtum. But the matter bumped and dawdled along the legislative road all that spring and summer before the bill passed to a final reading. Jeremy published his last editorial on the subject “Hands Off the President,” solemnly warning the Legislature against interfering in international matters of which they could know little or nothing. The Record replied with a scathing “leader” denouncing The Guardian, under the caption “An Insult to Our State,” the purport of which was that Centralia possessed the patriotism, statesmanship, and wisdom embodied in its Legislature to lay out the course for the ship of state through the most perilous waters. It was the kind of claptrap which rallies pseudo-patriotism and emboldens vacillating politicians. The bill passed in the fall by a ratio of two to one. Deutschtum rejoiced exuberantly. Jeremy hurried to the Executive Mansion. “Governor, are you going to veto that bill?” “Is this for publication, Mr. Editor?” smiled the Governor. “Yes.” “Then I will say that the matter is still under advisement.” “It’s a rank surrender, Martin.” “It’s a silly bill, Jem. But where’s the harm? Let ’em blow off steam.” “Then you won’t veto it?” “I certainly shall not. Does The Guardian propose to scarify me?” “My Lord, Martin! A matter as serious as this--I don’t see how you can take it so lightly.” “Philosophy, my boy. With our Corporation Bill coming on soon I’m certainly not going to compromise its chances by flying in the face of the whole German-American vote.” “But on a question of national honor--” “National flapdoodle! Our national honor is safe enough as long as we keep our heads. Will you see Rappelje to-morrow about the Corporation Control Bill?” “Yes. To-morrow afternoon.”