“Question, question,” cried the gloomy man at the other end of the room. His neighbours hushed him into silence. “I’m coming to the question as fast as ever I can. Few know better than me how to conduct a meeting of this kind, although I say it p’raps as shouldn’t, because it sounds like flattery, but it ain’t flattery, it’s only the truth. I’ve had it said to me over and over again, not once or twice, but many times—” “Mr. Chairman, reely,” said the gloomy man, “I must call you to order. We shall never get the business done this side of Chris’mas if—” “Kindly sed down,” ordered Mr. Payne, in tones of command, “or else resume your seat; one or the other. It’s me,” tapping his waistcoat, “me, sir, that calls people to order, not you.” The gloomy man argued in a loud whisper with his neighbours, and, on these counselling that he should simmer down, sat back in his chair, surveying the ceiling, his lips closed determinedly. “First thing is shall we, being all of a trade, form a separate society, or shall we jolly well do the other thing? That’s the point. Now then, who’s going to give us a start? You, my friend, of the Great Eastern, down at the bottom of this left ’and table, you seem to have a lot to say, p’raps we might give you ten minutes and see whether or not there’s any sense in you.” The gloomy man affected deafness until this had been explained to him by those sitting near, on which he told them rather haughtily that he spoke when he liked, and not when he was called upon. “Then we must throw the ’andkerchief to somebody else. Spanswick, you might set the ball a-rolling. Don’t be longer than you can ’elp.” Erb watched. The impression that his rival made now would affect the later decision, and Erb could not help wishing that Spanswick might prove halting in utterance and clumsy of speech. Cheers greeted Spanswick; some of the men looked at Erb, as they slapped the table with the palms of their hands to see how _he_ took it, and Erb remembered, just in time, to join in the compliment. He recovered his hopefulness as soon as Spanswick spoke, for he noted that his opponent started with great rapidity of utterance, speaking also overloudly—encouraging facts both. Spanswick was, of course, urging that they should form a separate society, but he had no arguments, only hurried expressions of his own opinion. Erb, with his eyes on a sheet of foolscap paper, noticed that the room relaxed its attention; the gloomy man had his watch out, and was clearly preparing to shout at the appropriate moment, “Time, time!” Spanswick halted and went over one sentence twice, word for word. Then he stopped altogether, and the silent room saw him endeavour to recall his fleeting memory, saw him take from the inside pocket of his coat the entire speech and laboriously find the place. “Beg pardon,” cried the gloomy man, starting up, “but is a member entitled to read—”