But he was close at Mr. Meredith’s heels when he ran into the house. The few senators, having just concluded a perfunctory Monday afternoon session over in their more or less solemn chamber, were bustling into the hall of the house, evidently expecting something of interest to occur. They pressed by the doorkeeper, and as they entered Jamie heard the speaker cry: “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: “Objections are heard.” And so the franchise grab bill was not taken up that day after all. The session was very short after that, and when the house adjourned Mr. Meredith went down to the speaker’s dais. The speaker looked up as if he thought Mr. Meredith was coming to speak to him, but Mr. Meredith stopped at the steps, and taking Jamie’s little hand he pressed it in his own big palm and said: “Come with me.” It was the proudest moment of Jamie’s life as he walked out of the noisy chamber, through the crowd of angry, baffled members, past the staring pages, by the wondering doorkeepers, and so on out into the rotunda. They walked down the great white staircase, and as they were passing around the polished brass railing of the balcony on the second floor Mr. Meredith said, as if suddenly reminded of something: “Beg your pardon, but what’s your name?” “James Horn,” replied Jamie. They kept on and Jamie wondered where they were going, until they turned into the governor’s offices. Jamie’s heart leaped suddenly. Surely this was a day of big surprises, thought he. “Is the governor in?” Mr. Meredith asked of the governor’s private secretary. “Yes--just go right in, Mr. Meredith,” and in another instant Jamie was standing beside Mr. Meredith in the presence of the governor.