Two hundred and fifty representative citizens, mostly of the business type, with a sprinkling of other occupations not including physicians, sat fanning themselves into a perspiration in the Chamber of Commerce assembly rooms, and wondering what on earth an Emergency Health Meeting might be.  Congressman Brett Harkins, a respectable nonentity, who was presiding, had refrained from telling them:  deliberately, it would appear, as his speech had dealt vaguely with the greatness of Worthington’s material prosperity, now threatened—­if one might credit his theory—­by a combination of senseless panic and reckless tongues; and had concluded by stating that Mr. William Douglas, one of the leaders of our bar, as all the chairman’s hearers well knew, would explain the situation and formulate a plan for the meeting’s consideration.

Explanation, however, did not prove to be Mr. William Douglas’s forte.  Coached by that practiced diplomat, Certina Charley, he made a speech memorable chiefly for what it did not say.  The one bright, definite gleam, amidst rolling columns of oratory, was the proposal that an Emergency Committee of One Hundred be appointed to cope with the situation, that the initial sum of twenty-five thousand dollars be pledged by subscription, and that their distinguished fellow citizen, Dr. L. Andre Surtaine, be permanent chairman of said committee, with power to appoint.  Dr. Surtaine had generously offered to subscribe ten thousand dollars to the fund. (Loud and prolonged applause; the word “thousand” preceding the word “dollars” and itself preceded by any numeral from one to one million, inclusive, being invariably provocative of acclaim in a subscription meeting of representative citizens.) Mr. Douglas took pride in nominating that Midas of Medicine, Dr. Surtaine. (More and louder applause.) The Reverend Dr. Wales, of Dr. Surtaine’s church, sonorously seconded the nomination.  So did Hollis Myers, of the Security Power Products Company.  So, a trifle grumpily, did Elias M. Pierce.  Also Col.  Parker, editor of the “Telegram,” Aaron Scheffler, of Scheffler and Mintz, and Councilman Carlin.  The presiding officer inquired with the bland indifference of the assured whether there were any further nominations.  There were not.  But turning in his second-row seat, Festus Willard, who was too important a figure commercially to leave out, though Dr. Surtaine had entertained doubts of his “soundness,” demanded of McGuire Ellis, seated just behind him, what it was all about.

“Ask the chairman,” suggested Ellis.

“I will,” said Willard.  He got up and did.

The Honorable Brett Harkins looked uncomfortable.  He didn’t really know what it was all about.  Moreover, it had been intimated to him that he’d perhaps better not know.  He cast an appealing glance at Douglas.

“That is not exactly the question before the meeting,” began Douglas hastily.

“It is the question I asked,” persisted Willard.  “Before we elect Dr. Surtaine or any one else chairman of a committee with a fund to spend, I want to know what the committee is for.”