"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. "Will you carry the box around, Mrs. Flynn, please?" she requested. The suffragette courteously acquiesced, and, as a formal return to the chair for the honor bestowed on her, first presented the box to Cicily, who under instructions as to the manner of operation dropped a white ball into the receptacle, after exhibiting it ostentatiously so that all the company could see. Next, Mrs. Flynn offered the box to Mrs. Morton, who selected a black ball, and permitted all who would to observe the color before her vote was concealed within the box. "I congratulate you on your triumph over natural family affection," the presiding officer remarked, bitterly. In turn, the box was presented to each of the members present. This task accomplished, Mrs. Flynn, at the request of Cicily, set herself to counting the votes, while the idle ladies discussed the exciting events of the session with great animation. Presently, the teller looked up, and addressed the chair. "Madam Chairman," she announced in a businesslike tone, "the vote stands eight to two." At this statement, the presiding officer clapped her hands merrily, in a manner more joyous than dignified.