“I rise to a point of order,” said Jack, sagely. “There is no secretary and there are no minutes.”
“Mere form,” said the Chair; “sit down; there will be minutes in a minute,—got to do some more things first; that will do, sit down. Will the Misses Burton and Messrs. Burton and Noble kindly act as Committee on Decoration?”
“Where’s the Committee on Music, and Refreshments, and Olympian Games, and all that sort of thing?” interrupted Polly, who had not the slightest conception of parliamentary etiquette; “and why don’t you hurry up and put me on something?”
“If Miss Oliver refuses to bridle her tongue, and persists in interrupting the business of the meeting, the Chair will be obliged to remove her,” said Geoffrey, with chilling emphasis.
Polly rose again, undaunted. “I would respectfully ask the Chair, who put him in the chair, any way?”
“Question!” roared Philip.
“Second the motion!” shrieked Bell, that being the only parliamentary expression she knew.
“Order!” cried Geoffrey in stentorian accents. “I will adjourn the meeting and clear the court-room unless there is order.”
“Do!” remarked Polly, encouragingly. “I will rise again, like Phœbus, from my ashes, to say that—”
Here Jack sprang to his feet. “I would suggest to the Chair that the last speaker amend her motion by substituting the word ‘Phœnix’ for ‘Phœbus.’”