As soon as we had agreed to allow the Parish Meeting Chairman to
preside, BLACK BOB jumped up and proposed that Mrs. LETHAM HAVITT
should be elected to the chair. She was a lady whose excellences he
need not dilate on. She had excellent business habits, and, with all
respect to Mrs. MARCH, she had as much right to a seat on the Council
as that lady. Then a miracle happened. Mrs. MARCH not only did not
resent this reference, but actually seconded Mrs. HAVITT. It was
essential, she said, that women should be represented as fully as
possible, and she should, without hesitation, embrace this opportunity
of securing a woman colleague. This made the situation serious, not to
say hopeless. After she had sat down, there was an ominous pause. At
length I rose and proposed myself. In impressive tones I pointed
put that the hand of the electors had pointed in no uncertain way to
myself, and that since no one else had proposed my election, at the
risk of being misunderstood _once more_, I had, on public grounds,
to do it myself. After another painful pause the Parson seconded my
nomination. Then the voting. Mrs. HAVITT'S name was put first. She
got 4 votes--Mrs. MARCH, BLACK BOB, and his two comrades. I got 3--the
Squire, the Parson, and my self. And so I was foiled again--by the
Eternal Feminine.
And so our Parish Council is at last complete, and ready for action, a
corporate body in the eyes of the law. Possibly, in these pages I may
from time to time be permitted to relate how Mudford progresses under
our rule. Possibly, I may not. But in any case I ought to add that,
being beaten by Mrs. HAVITT has not--well, improved the domestic
atmosphere. Wifely devotion seems to be out of fashion in these _fin
de siècle_ days.
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