FREMAN. [Excitedly] I didn' care what old meetin' 'tis that's
zettin'. I purpose that Sol Potter goo an' zet in that chair again,
while I rise on my point of order.
TRUSTAFORD. [Scratching his head] 'Tesn't regular but I guess yu've
got to goo, Sol, or us shan't 'ave no peace.
[SOL POTTER, still wiping his brow, goes back to the chair.]
MORSE. [Stolidly-to FREMAN] Zet down, Will Freman. [He pulls at
him with a blacksmith's arm.]
FREMAN. [Remaining erect with an effort] I'm not a-goin' to zet
down till I've arisen.
JARLAND. Now then, there 'e is in the chair. What's yore point of
order?
FREMAN. [Darting his eyes here and there, and flinging his hand up
to his gipsy-like head] 'Twas--'twas--Darned ef y' 'aven't putt it
clean out o' my 'ead.
JARLAND. We can't wait for yore points of order. Come out o' that
chair. Sol Potter.
[SOL POTTER rises and is about to vacate the chair.]
FREMAN. I know! There ought to 'a been minutes taken. Yu can't
'ave no meetin' without minutes. When us comes to electin' a
chairman o' the next meetin', 'e won't 'ave no minutes to read.
SOL POTTER. 'Twas only to putt down that I was elected chairman to
elect a meetin' to elect a chairman to preside over a meetin' to pass
a resolution dalin' wi' the curate. That's aisy set down, that is.
FREMAN.
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