Dollie. Miss President, I think I can state the object of this meeting, if Director Robbins will allow me. It’s all about two men who get in here accidentally. I think there’s a good deal of pother about nothing. I advised Robbins to let the whole thing drop.
Birdie. When such things are overlooked or winked at, the days of the Anti-homo Club are numbered, its purpose wholly defeated. Dissolution is at hand.
Dollie. Well, if a little thing like that is going to kill it, I say—
Birdie. (Severely.) What does the constitution say?
Dollie. If you insist, then let us take the matter up. One was the ice man who has a yearly permit to call once a day between the hours of 9 and 10 a. m. The other was a plumber.
Birdie. I saw the wretch! He was no plumber.
Dollie. A plumber is what is known as an emergency man and needs no permit, just as a male doctor was once called in to treat a member, in an emergency.
Birdie. I demand an investigating committee.
Dollie. Oh, I make no objection if you think it so important as that. But emergencies will arise. The ice man and the postman can not always be on time. As we know, under the new system, the postman is shot through the Instantaneous Pneumatic Delivery Company’s tubes. Only a few days ago the poor fellow stuck in the tube owing to his carelessness in dropping a peach pit as he entered the chute. Reversing the engine only wedged him tighter and he would have smothered if one of the professors in charge had not thought to fire fresh oxygen balls at him by means of the new aluminum, vacuum, weather-report gun. Now they can’t shoot a plumber through the tubes because—