“I should like to ask,” said the gloomy Great Eastern man, ignoring this remark, “whether there’s any sense in paying a ’undred pounds a year for a article that we can get for nothing? That’s all I want to know.”
“Argue the point, my good sir,” urged the Chair, “argue in a speech.”
“I’ve said my say,” retorted the other stubbornly.
“If it was the self-same article,” said the Chair, shaking his hammer in a friendly way towards the Great Eastern man, “then I should be with you. But is it?” The shirt sleeves rested on the tables; the men began to show renewed interest.
“I asked a plain question, I want a plain answer!”
“Oh!” said the Chair, disgustedly, “you go to—well, I won’t say where. You’ve got no more idea of conducting a meeting than this ’ammer. Why don’t someone prepose a resolution?”
“Beg—propose,” said a young man desperately, “my friend Spanswick—honery sec’tary—new society.”
“Beg second that,” jerked another youth.
“In view of the fac’,” said a South Eastern man, half rising, “that if you want a thing done well you ought to pay for it, I think we ought to ’ave a man who’ll devote his whole energies to the work. Therefore, I beg to suggest Erb Barnes as—as—”
“Organisin’ secretary!” whispered a neighbour.