who bides his
time, and sat looking upon vacancy. He seemed to forget the scene
before him and his own position between the warring forces so
dramatically brought together.

The silence of expectancy that had fallen upon the house was pierced by
a low hissing sound, for Anthony Cobbens had risen to his feet and
advanced to the footlights to make the speech of introduction. As the
malignant greeting reached his ears, his face paled and his fingers
tightened on the rim of the silk hat which he held awkwardly in the
bend of his arm. The scene Cardington had anticipated was about to be
enacted. Upon Cobbens, as the mouthpiece of the committee, the fury of
the people now turned itself, a fury no less intense because restrained
to some extent by the presence of the President. Perhaps the
unfortunate spokesman had thought that this presence would save him
entirely, for his reception seemed to turn him to stone. As he waited
for the hissing to subside, he presented an appearance at once so
grotesque and pitiful that his bitterest enemy must needs have felt
some twinges of compassion. That tight-waisted and wide-skirted coat,
those faultless trousers, served only to give a waspish effect, and to
emphasize the insignificance of the figure they were meant to dignify.
He wore a solitary pink carnation, selected with solicitous care. His
thin face seemed to shrivel under the fierce rays of scorn
concentrating from thousands of eyes, and his large, bald crown began
to glisten with slow drops of sweat. Even his voice, when he was
permitted to speak, had lost its timbre and suggested the voice of a
somnambulist.

It was evident that he had prepared a long and elaborate address, for
presently in the monotonous mumble of his words familiar phrases began
to reach the ears of those who listened,--"when police commissioner of
New York"--"the Rough riders"--"San Juan Hill,"--but for once their
conjuring power was gone, and they were greeted in silence or drowned
in mocking catcalls. Not one in ten of his audience knew or cared what
he was saying; not one in a thousand was moved to pity for his plight.
The people had been visited with scorn that day through an insult to
their elected representative, and now they paid it back with interest.
The lion was eating his trainer, and licking his chops with grim
satisfaction. The spirit was that of class against class, bitter,
ugly, and revengeful.

Leigh's personal interest was supplem