“Such as our policy of percolation?”
“I understand that your endeavour is to be represented in every imaginable grade of society.”
“Precisely. From royalty down to the criminal and the gutter-snipe,” Susan confirmed. “We have only one qualification for membership; we admit no one over twenty-five.”
“And have you many members, now?” Wolverton inquired politely.
“Nine thousand, eight hundred and forty-three,” Susan replied. “We admitted a hundred and seven new members after our grand meeting to-night, including a royal prince and two hooligans.”
Henry Wolverton nodded his head encouragingly.
“Most satisfactory,” he murmured.
Susan dropped her knee and sat up.
“I’m telling you this,” she said in a firm voice, “for your own good. We discussed you at our meeting, and it was resolved unanimously that you were largely responsible for the revolution that broke out to-day, and will end God knows where or when.”
Wolverton made his noise again—Susan had not yet recognized it as a laugh. “I must confess that I don’t quite follow your train of reasoning,” he said.