“Sir,” again resumes the luckless red-headed inquirer, “I—I—have lost my umbrella. I—I—put it in the stand on Wednesday evening—(‘Hear! hear!’)—on my way to—to—the smoking-room, and—and—and—it was not there when I came back.” And the speaker drops into his seat.
The treasurer takes no notice, but the president rises and says:—“I must remind the honourable member that any statement he may have to make must be introduced or followed by a question.”
The owner of the lost umbrella rises, and before he has opened his mouth is told to “speak up.” This time he does speak up, in very shrillness: “I wish to ask the honourable treasurer whether he will take some steps for the recovery of my umbrella.”
The treasurer is a stout youth, short of speech and of stature. He clips his sentences: “I must remind the honourable member that this society is not a police institution. I regret the loss of his umbrella. I regret still more that there are members in this society so careless or so dishonest as to remove umbrellas not belonging to them.”
“Sir”—from another corner—“I consider the answer of the honourable treasurer most unsatisfactory. I now beg to ask him whether he will take steps to prevent the robbery—(‘Oh! oh!’)—yes—robbery of the property of members of this society.”
The treasurer is again on his legs: “In answer to the last honourable member, I beg to say that as far as I know anything of the funds of this society, it is not in a position to pay for policemen to guard the umbrellas of honourable members. If honourable members value their umbrellas, I should recommend them to leave them in the steward’s room, or carry them with them into whichever of the society’s rooms they may go.”
“Sir”—from another quarter—“will you move for a committee of inquiry into the loss of umbrellas and other property?” (Loud cheers.)
By this time the treasurer is white-hot:—“No, sir!” and he flumps into his chair—(loud cheers from the treasurer’s partisans and from the admirers of his doggedness). He is not, however, yet done with.
“I beg to ask the honourable treasurer,” says a grimy-looking youth, “why there are so few nail-brushes in the lavatory?” (Roars of laughter.)