Once again, her purpose was frustrated by the suffragette, who had been busily consulting the formidable volume.
"A moment, Madam Chairman," she demanded, peremptorily. "This American book on parliamentary law says that the club has the right to decide how new members are to be elected. Therefore, I move that these elections be as the elections in England, made by secret voting, and that three black balls be sufficient to defeat any candidate in her candidacy."
"I second the motion," Miss Johnson called out, rallying to the support of Mrs. Flynn as on a former occasion, because she believed that such action would tend toward the annoyance of her dear friends, Mrs. Carrington and Cicily.
Cicily forthwith offered the motion to a vote, and it was carried, although Mrs. Carrington, Mrs. Morton and Mrs. Delancy voted against it. Immediately, Mrs. Flynn brought to view from a mysterious pocket a small black box of wood.
"I have here," she explained impressively, "the voting-box used in our club in England. I'm very sorry we did not have it on the occasion of the election of the president at the last session of this club. I have no doubt that the issue would have been quite otherwise. Yet, I hope that no one will misunderstand my position. It is merely my tendency toward the strong upholding of constitutional rights as opposed unalterably and forever to tyranny and the forces of disorder and anarchy. Naturally, there can be no doubt as to the ultimate election of one at least of the candidates in this particular instance, inasmuch as that particular candidate is the relation of a member of the Civitas Society."
Mrs. Morton flounced out of her seat, with an agility that showed her full appreciation of the thrust.
"It is unconstitutional for one club-member to insult a fellow club-member," she cried, in a rage. "And, anyhow, I wish to deny that statement. I'm not a relation—I'm not, I'm not!"
"Pardon me," the militant suffragette declared, belligerently. Her narrow, sallow face was set; the lust of battle shone in her snapping eyes. "I know that in Ireland the Mortons and the McMahons are close relatives. Being an Englishwoman, I naturally know all about it."
Cicily deemed this a fitting time for the exercise of her prerogative as presiding officer, and rapped violently on the table with the gavel.
"Order! Order!" she commanded. Then, she beamed approvingly on Mrs. Flynn.