Farrell had collapsed in his seat by the Chairman's table and sat
with his face in his hands. The Chairman was paralytic. So I did
the only thing that seemed possible: started to propose a vote of
thanks. Pretty fair rubbish I must have started with, too: but by
and by I slipped into my own election speech and after that it was
pretty plain sailing. You see, when a man runs for candidate, he
begins by preparing half a dozen speeches; but by the time he's half
through he has them pretty well boiled down into one, and he can
speak that one in his sleep. After ten minutes or so I forgot that I
was moving a vote of thanks to somebody and moved a vote of
confidence instead--confidence in Mr. Farrell.
Nobody minded. Two or three speakers followed me and moved and
seconded all sorts of things at random. We were all in a hopeless
muddle, and all quite good-humoured about it; and we wound up by
singing "God Save the King!"
NIGHT THE THIRD.
THE GRAND RESEARCH.
The little Chairman followed me into the lobby and thanked me
effusively, while a couple of stewards helped me into my great-coat.
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