A shout of wild applause rent the air as the last note of Byron's immortal song fell from her beautiful lips. And then, in a low, intense voice, she closed her speech with a thrilling appeal for human brotherhood. To Norman, who hung on her lips, the slight girlish figure seemed transformed before their eyes into a radiant messenger of the spirit. And when the sweet womanly tones at last broke and choked into deep-drawn sobs, his soul and body seemed no longer his own. As her last words sank into his heart: "From to-day let each of us swear allegiance to but one flag, the deep-red emblem of human blood, God's sign of universal brotherhood!" Norman leaped to his feet, sprang on the platform, and while the crowd swayed in a frenzy of applause, hauled down the Stars and Stripes and quickly raised the big red standard of Socialism which was thrown across the speaker's table. And then the great crowd seemed to go mad. Wave after wave of cheering rose and fell, rose and fell, in apparently unending power. Catherine threw her arms around Barbara in a paroxysm of emotion, while the big figure of Wolf towered above them both, shouting and gesturing like a madman. Barbara at last lifted her hand and, as the storm subsided, began the Marseillaise hymn. The first stirring notes had just swept the audience when the stalwart figure of Colonel Worth suddenly appeared on the platform, his face a blaze of anger, his magnificent figure erect, every nerve and muscle drawn to the highest tension. He stepped to the edge of the stand, lifted his head, and his voice rang over the crowd like the sudden boom of a cannon: "Silence!" He didn't repeat the word. The singing stopped, and every eye was riveted on the group that stood on the platform. The Colonel confronted Wolf, and shot his words at him as though from a machine-gun. "Who lowered that flag?" A moment of silence followed. The Colonel spoke with increasing rapidity. "Who lowered that flag? The man who did it must answer to me!" Some one behind him moved, and the Colonel turned, confronting Norman. "I did it, Governor," was the quiet answer. "You?" the father gasped. "Yes," said the even, firm voice. "Haul that red rag down and raise the flag back to its place!" The Colonel's voice was low and thick with rage. Elena put her hand on his arm and said gently: "Guardie!" "Will you do it?" he firmly asked, ignoring Elena, and holding Norman with his gaze. The young man hesitated an instant, met his father's look with a deadly straight stare, and slowly replied: "I will not." A smothered cry from Barbara, half joy, half pain, was the only sound that followed, until the Colonel said: "Then I'll do it for you." Amid a dead silence he hauled down the red flag, threw it on the floor, boldly stamped on it, made fast the Stars and Stripes, and quickly raised it to the top of its staff. He turned to the crowd, and in clear-cut, sharp tones of command shouted: