"This meeting will come to order! I was legally elected here, and I'm
not going to be bulldozed!"

"All right," said Georgie. "You're president. Now we'll hold another
election."

"We will not!" Fred Kinney shouted. "We'll have our reg'lar meeting,
and then we'll play euchre & nickel a corner, what we're here for.
This meeting will now come to ord--"

Georgie addressed the members. "I'd like to know who got up this
thing in the first place," he said. "Who's the founder of the
F.O.T.A., if you please? Who got this room rent free? Who got the
janitor to let us have most of this furniture? You suppose you could
keep this clubroom a minute if I told my grandfather I didn't want it
for a literary club any more? I'd like to say a word on how you
members been acting, too! When I went away I said I didn't care if
you had a vice-president or something while I was gone, but here I
hardly turned my back and you had to go and elect Fred Kinney
president! Well, if that's what you want, you can have it. I was
going to have a little celebration down here some night pretty soon,
and bring some port wine, like we drink at school in our crowd there,
and I was going to get my grandfather to give the club an extra room
across the hall, and prob'ly I could get my Uncle George to give us
his old billiard table, because he's got a new one, and the club could
put it in the other room. Well, you got a new president now!" Here
Georgie moved toward the door and his tone became plaintive, though
undeniably there was disdain beneath his sorrow. "I guess all I
better do is--resign!"