June and Bim entered the House with Geoffrey; and as nowadays she went hardly anywhere in public without the accompaniment of a self-appointed bodyguard, full fifty fairies grouped around her. Queenly was her state as she surveyed, from the vantage-ground of the clock, the languid, sprawling gentlemen who comprised the House. For quite a time the elves watched the proceedings. They were amused and puzzled by many things; it would be inappropriate here to detail precisely what these were.
Then gradually the fairies grew bored; the infinite stream of talk went on and on. The light of their presences faded. Their glory was dwindling. Their strength, which is expressed in brightness, was gradually diminishing.
This wouldn't do! June roused herself, and gave Bim a push which sent him spinning and then sprawling on the floor of the House below. He rose indignant at this treatment, strode with his stiffest dignity to the table, and, with a spring and some effort, perched himself astride the mace.
From that moment the Commons began to be transformed. The fairies resumed their brightness, and shone with light which would have dazzled humanity had eyes of clay been able to realize immortal glories. The clock stopped--its mechanism was more atune to elf-influence than that of the prose-builders below. Members--for no particular reason that they knew--came trooping in; and within ten minutes every green bench on the floor of the House and in the galleries was packed.
June spread her wings, and flew over the heads of the legislators. Her companions followed her example. With wands they tapped the mighty brows of legislators, and prepared their minds for obedience. Members wearing hats were poked in the nape of the neck. All--without exception--were inoculated with magic. The Irish party became a little uproarious, and effectively facetious.
The stream of prose went on.
June gave Bim her wand, and bade him take the chair. He gravely clambered along the Treasury table, came to the trio of clerks, and, after bowing with due respect thrice, according to usage--his seat on the mace had touched him with Parliamentary decorum--the intrepid adventurer climbed the Speaker's robes and squatted soberly upon his wig. The dignity of Parliament was enhanced.
The gnome knew he was making history, so he took care to keep awake.
Mr. Speaker began to feel strangely nervous, to have forebodings--as if an unexpected precedent was about to be established.
Meanwhile the stream of prose went on. The present malefactor was ----, but his name shall not be immortalized! This is all I will say, O reader: he was of the opposite school of politics to you. Even members on his own side of the House began to be impatient. A few cried "'Vide!" but only feebly. His misdoing was condoned by the general indifference.