Paddington Parcels handsomely offered to cut a long story short, and the room gave encouragement to this proposal, whereupon he proceeded to speak at intolerable length with ever, “Just one word and I’ve done,” and “Let me add a couple of words more,” and “Finally, I should like to remark,” and other phrases all suggesting an immediate finish, anticipation not justified by results. Summarised, the argument was that the society had made a grievous blunder; that when a chap made a mistake he should apologise for it and set it right; that a society was like a chap, and should behave as a chap would, and that in the present deplorable state of the society there was only one thing they could do, namely, to ask Erb Barnes to let byegones be byegones, and to come back and resume the secretaryship. When, after many feints of sitting down, thus arousing the oratorical desires of those anxious to second the resolution, and always thinking of more words that retained him in a standing position, Paddington Parcels did unexpectedly resume his seat, there was great competition for the honour of speaking next, and twenty faces looked gloomy and disappointed when Payne was selected. Payne spoke briefly. Every society had its ups and downs: this society was just now all in the downs, as the song had it. But it was well worth while to have such an experience, if only to see his old chum, his good old chum Erb, righted in the eyes of everybody and restored to a position that he ought never to have quitted.