in the United States for at least five years. But here was a man whose application was refused—not because he was ignorant of the things a citizen should know but because he came with none of the sacred fire burning in his veins.
For more than an hour, while other applications were heard, Oliver sat there absorbed, and in that hour he did not move. When Court adjourned for the day, and Judge Seifert left the bench, he sighed, and shook himself, and arose and followed the class from the room. "Speed" Martin, the nine's star shortstop, fell into step with him.
"Frosty old bird wasn't he?" the shortstop asked.
Oliver looked at him blankly. "Old bird?"
"The judge. He certainly hands it out with an ax. Zippo, and off goes somebody's head. Then they bring on the next victim, and he sharpens the ax again."
"Is that your idea of the hearings to-day?" a voice asked behind them. Prof. Banning had spoken. Martin's face reddened.
"You know what I mean, sir."
"I'm afraid I do not," the teacher said. "And I'm afraid you missed the proper spirit of what went on in the court room."
Oliver said nothing, but his eyes blinked
