Suddenly and quietly she sat down.
Miss Eagerson was on her feet. So were others.
“Madam President! Madam President!” resounded from several points at once. Madam Weatherstone—Mrs. Thaddler—no! yes—they really were both on their feet. Applause was going on—irregularly—soon dropped. Only, from the group in the gallery it was whole-hearted and consistent.
Mrs. Dankshire, who had been growing red and redder as the paper advanced, who had conferred in alarmed whispers with Mrs. Ree, and Miss Massing, who had even been seen to extend her hand to the gavel and finger it threateningly, now rose, somewhat precipitately, and came forward.
“Order, please! You will please keep order. You have heard the—we will now—the meeting is now open for discussion, Mrs. Thaddler!” And she sat down. She meant to have said Madam Weatherstone, by Mrs. Thaddler was more aggressive.
“I wish to say,” said that much beaded lady in a loud voice, “that I was against this—unfortunate experiment—from the first. And I trust it will never be repeated!” She sat down.
Two tight little dimples flickered for an instant about the corners of Diantha's mouth.
“Madam Weatherstone?” said the President, placatingly.
Madam Weatherstone arose, rather sulkily, and looked about her. An agitated assembly met her eye, buzzing universally each to each.
“Order!” said Mrs. Dankshire, “ORDER, please!” and rapped three times with the gavel.