“By whom elected?  This,” said Miss Burstall, “is most irregular.”

Rosalind went on:  “We are here to appoint a vice-president, to elect members of the Committee and enlist subscribers to the Union.  These things will take time.”

“We were punctual,” said Miss Farmer.

Rosalind did not even look at her.  The moment had come to address the meeting.

“I take it that we are all agreed as to the main issue, that we have not come here to convert each other, that we all want Women’s Franchise, that we all mean to have it, that we are all prepared to work for it, and, if necessary, to fight for it, to oppose the Government that withholds it by every means in our power—­”

“By every constitutional means,” Miss Burstall amended, and was told by Miss Gilchrist that, if she desired proceedings to be regular, she must not interrupt the Chairwoman.

“—­To oppose the Government that refuses us the vote, whatever Government it may be, regardless of party, by every means in our power.”

Rosalind’s sentences were punctuated by a rhythmic sound of tapping.  Miss Maud Blackadder, twisted sideways on the chair she had pushed farther and farther back from the table, so as to bring herself completely out of line with the other seven, from time to time, rhythmically, twitching with impatience, struck her own leg with her own walking-stick.

Rosalind perorated.  “If we differ, we differ, not as to our end, but solely as to the means we, personally and individually, are prepared to employ.”  She looked round.  “Agreed.”

“Not agreed,” said Dorothy and Miss Burstall and Miss Farmer all at once.

“I will now call on Miss Maud Blackadder to speak.  She will explain to those of you who are strangers” (she glanced comprehensively at the eleven young girls) “the present program of the Union.”

“I protest,” said Miss Burstall.  “There has been confusion.”

“There really has, Rosalind,” said Dorothy.  “You must get it straight.  You can’t start all at sixes and sevens.  I protest too.”

“We all three protest,” said Miss Farmer, frowning and blinking in an agony of protest.

“Silence, if you please, for the Chairwoman,” said Miss Gilchrist.

“May we not say one word?”

“You may,” said Rosalind, “in your turn.  I now call on Miss Blackadder to speak.”

At the sound of her own name Miss Blackadder jumped to her feet.  The walking-stick fell to the floor with a light clatter and crash, preluding her storm.  She jerked out her words at a headlong pace, as if to make up for the time the others had wasted in futilities.

“I am not going to say much, I am not going to take up your time.  Too much time has been lost already.  I am not a speaker, I am not a writer, I am not an intellectual woman, and if you ask me what I am and what I am here for, and what I am doing in the Union, and what the Union is doing with me, and what possible use I, an untrained girl, can be to you clever women” (she looked tempestuously at Miss Burstall and Miss Farmer who did not flinch), “I will tell you.  I am a fighter.  I am here to enlist volunteers.  I am the recruiting sergeant for this district.  That is the use my leaders, who should be your leaders, are making of me.”