The president looked from the report in front of her to the superintendent sitting opposite.
The Rev. Alexander McCaleb rose slowly to his feet.
"I regret exceedingly," he said, "to have to report this case to the board. I need not say that if it had been possible to convince Mrs. Walker of the error of her ways, no pains or time would have been spared. But I have done all that I could. Mrs. Walker persists. She—ah!—she flouts all authority, and—ah!—sets such an example of rebellious conduct that I fear the discipline of the home may be gravely compromised."
The president knitted her pretty, dark brows. Her hair was white, with a soft, youthful whiteness that haloed her head as if it was a joke of old Time's. She was new to her office, and was conscious of a critical atmosphere that subtly underlined the formality of the proceedings—an official formality that made the meeting of the lady managers of this Old People's Home a formidable affair.
"I see no record of any case of disciplining heretofore," she said, troubled. "There is no precedent by which the chair can be——"
"But there are the by-laws," suggested the superintendent. He reached over to his own desk, and read from a pamphlet that had lain open there: "If any inmate of the home shall persistently and willfully disobey the rules, the superintendent shall report such case to the board of managers. If, after full and complete investigation, and a notice to that effect having been duly served, said inmate shall continue to persist in contumacy, the board is by a majority vote empowered to expel."
A little hush fell upon the assemblage at this invocation of its dread powers.
"It seems rather hard on the old bodies, doesn't it?" the president was encouraged to remark.
"But it is plainly stated in the by-laws," said the recording secretary, a bright-eyed, business-like matron.
"And dear Mr. McCaleb is so patient and tactful that it is seldom necessary," remarked the single member of this week's visiting committee.