"Stand also." "I object," shrieked the prosecution.
"State the objection," said the judge.
"Keep your position," said Bradley sternly.

"I want the jury to compare you." As the prisoner and the witness faced each other the court room blossomed with smiles.

Harold looked very pale and delicate beside the coarse, muscular hostler, who turned red and looked foolish.
Ultimately the judge sustained the objection, but the work was done.

A dramatic contrast had been drawn, and the jury perceived the pusillanimity of Slocum's story.

This was the position of the defense.
Harold was a boy, the hostler had insulted him, had indeed struck him with a whip.