Read the following passage and questions, then choose the right answer from options, the answer should be one of A, B, C, D.

<passage>:
It was going to be a bad day. As he pushed his way nervously through the crowds toward the Exit Strip, Walter Towne turned the dismal prospect over and over in his mind. The potential gloominess of this particular day had descended upon He had wolfed down his morning Koffee-Kup with one eye on the clock and one eye on his growing sense of impending crisis. And now, to make things just a trifle worse, he was going to be late again. He struggled doggedly across the rumbling Exit strip toward the plant entrance. After all, he told himself, why should he be the showdown came, that he wouldn't say any such thing. And this was the morning that the showdown would come. Oh, not because of the lateness Do what you want with him." The hall exploded in angry thunder. The first wave of men within reason. Perhaps we can even arrange for better company houses." Walter Towne stifled a yawn. "Perhaps you didn't understand us. The men are agitating for a meeting of the board of directors. We want to be at that meeting. That's the only thing stairs to the administrative wing, he paused outside the door to punch the time clock. 8:04. Damn. If only Bailey could be sick— Bailey was not sick. The administrative offices were humming with frantic activity as Walter glanced down the rows of cubbyholes. In the middle of it all sat Bailey, in his black-and-yellow checkered tattersall, smoking a large cigar. His feet were planted on his desk top, but he hadn't started on his morning Western yet. He was busy glaring, first at the clock, then at Walter. "Late again, I see," the shop steward growled. Walter gulped. "Yes, sir. Just four minutes, this time, sir. You know those crowded strips—" "So it's "The board meeting," Walter said gently. "That'll be enough for us." demerit." Walter sighed and shuffled back to his desk. Oh, well. It could have been worse. They might have fired him like poor rose with a howl of anger when Walter Towne walked out on Cartwright last month. He'd just to the stage, and hanging from the rafters. They overflowed into the corridors. They jammed the lobby. Ten thousand men paced the stage, his fat body shaking with agitation, pointing a chubby finger again and again at Walter Towne. He pranced and he ranted. He paused at just the right times for thunderous the stage. But they quieted down again as Dan Torkleson started to speak. It was a masterful display of rabble-rousing. Torkleson Towne! " Walter jumped a foot. Bailey was putting down the visiphone receiver. His grin spread unpleasantly from ear to ear. boss wants to see you. And you'd better have the right answers, too. The boss seems to have a lot of questions." Walter rose slowly from his seat. This was it, then. Torkleson had already seen the reports. He started for the door, his knees shaking. rushed onto the stage as Walter stood up. A tomato whizzed up on the stage, shouting and shaking their fists. Then somebody appeared with a rope. Walter gave a sharp nod to the side of the stage. Abruptly the roar of the men was drowned in another sound—a soul-rending, past his ear and splattered against the wall. More men clambered jaws sagging, eyes wide, hardly believing their ears. In the Walter could almost remember those days with Robling, before the switchover, before that black day when the exchange instant of silence as the factory whistle died away, Walter of ten little shares of stock had thrown the Robling teeth-grating, bone-rattling screech. The men froze, grabbed the microphone. "You want the code word to start Amalgamated Locals Daniel P. Torkleson, Secretary The secretary flipped down the desk switch and eyed Walter with pity. "Mr. Torkleson will see you." Walter pushed through the door into the long, handsome office. For an instant he felt a pang of nostalgia—the floor-to-ceiling "Well? Don't just stand there. Shut the door and come over here." The man behind the desk hoisted his three hundred well-dressed pounds and glared at Walter from under flagrant eyebrows. Torkleson's whole body quivered as he slammed a sheaf of papers down on the desk. "Just what do you think Walter spread his hands. "I do my best. I've been doing it for thirty years. I should know what I'm doing." " Walter nodded as he struggled down with a moose head. "Yes, a pity, but you know the boys when they get upset." "I suppose so." The lawyer stopped to rest, panting. "Anyway, " Torkleson threw the heap of papers into Walter's arms, and paced up and down behind the desk. " "I've been doing everything I could," Walter snapped. "Of course the reports are bad, they couldn't help but be. We Walter Towne chuckled. "Doesn't it? I don't know. Everything's liked you, Walter. So I'm going to pretend I didn't hear on grounds of incompetence. And I will personally see that you go on every White list in the country." Walter felt the fight go out of him like a dying wind. He in dividends in the next six months. And you'd better move fast, because I'm not fooling." Back in his cubbyhole downstairs, Walter stared hopelessly at the reports. He had known it would come to this sooner or later. They all knew it—Hendricks of Promotion, Pendleton of Sales, the whole managerial staff. It was wrong, all the way down the line. Walter had fought it tooth and nail since the day Torkleson had installed the moose heads in Walter's old office, and moved him down "It's ridiculous," the lawyer spluttered, staring at the circle there have been lockouts, but this isn't the same thing at all." Walter nodded. "Well, we couldn't very well lock the men breathe. Then: "Okay. Just the man next door coming home." Pendleton sighed. "You're sure you didn't let them suspect anything, Walter? They wouldn't be watching the house?" "I don't think so. And you all came alone, at different "Not quite." Walter was grinning. "That's why I spoke of Walter turned on him sharply. "For new contracts. Contracts The others nodded. Walter rubbed his hands together. "All Walter Towne remembered those stormy days well. The men three more hours to unsnarl this knot, or we throw them out of the union." He started for the door. "What were the blueprints for?" remained. The third day, Jeff Bates was served with an injunction ordering Towne to return to work. It was duly appealed, legal machinery began tying itself in knots, and the strikers still struck. By the fifth day there was a more serious note. "You're going to have to appear, Walter. We can't dodge this one." "When?" "Tomorrow morning. And before a labor-rigged judge, too." The little lawyer paced his office nervously. "I don't like it. start them, too, but that's another bridge. Right now they want those machines going again." "We'll see," said Walter. "What time tomorrow?" "Ten o'clock." Bates looked up. "And don't try to skip. You be there, because I don't know what to tell them." Walter was there a half hour early. Torkleson's legal staff glowered from across the room. The judge glowered from the bench. Walter closed his eyes with a little smile as the Walter yawned as the words went on. "Of course, if the defendant will waive his appeals against

<question>:
Why was the judge glowering at Walter during the trial?

<options>:
A The judge was favorable towards unions and laborers
B Walter was speaking out of turn
C The judge owned stock in Robling Titanium
D Walter was at the trial earlier than he should have been

<answer>:

A