A murmur—almost a stifled gasp—went around the table, at the contempt in his action and words. There was an embarrassed pause. Then, Reuben Standish, as Chairman of the Committee, rose, gray and portentous, and turned toward Caleb.
“Mr. Conover,” he began, “Certain statements,—charges, in fact,—have been made to the Committee, relative to yourself. It is your right to hear them in detail. I will now read—”
“Never mind that!” commanded Conover. “Just give the gist of the thing. Cut out the details.”
Standish glared reprovingly at the wholly unimpressed man at the window. But as the latter purposely sat with his back to the light, his expression was quite illegible.
“Just as you wish,” resumed the Chairman after a moment’s hesitation. “The papers I was about to read are to the effect that you are declared to be in no sense a desirable member of the Arareek Club, either from a personal or a business standpoint. Believe me, I regret the necessity of—”
“Oh, I’ll take your grief for granted,” interrupted Conover. “This meeting’s been called, as I understand it, to kick me out of the Arareek. Now I—”
“You are mistaken, Mr. Conover,” urged Standish civilly. “We wish—”
“Be quiet!” said Caleb, “I’m talkin’ now. You want to get me out of this Club. Well, you can’t do it. You can’t stir me an inch. I’m no measly lamb, like the one in the circus ‘Happy Family’ where the lion an’ the lamb live together in one cage; an’ where the lamb’s got to be renewed ev’ry now an’ then, on the sly. I didn’t butt in here. I was elected. I’ve broke none of the Club rules. And till I do, here I’m goin’ to stay. Is that clear? There ain’t a law in the land that can get me out. Lord! But it makes me sick to hear a pack of sapheads like you, tryin’ to scare a grown man. It won’t work. Now we understand each other. Anything more?”
Amid the buzz, a man half way down the table spoke.
“I’m afraid,” he said, “that we don’t quite understand each other, Mr. Conover. This is not a business concern. It is a social club. It is a place where the women of our families are also welcome guests. The presence of a man we cannot introduce to our wives and daughters will only—”