So it was that night.

The answering "Noes" reached the proportions of a cyclone; you could see men shrieking out the word again and again, almost beside themselves with rage, and with faces positively distorted by the intensity of their feelings.

And the tempest did not end in a moment; again and again the Tories shouted their hoarse and tempestuous, and angry "No, no!"-- the word sometimes repeated like a volley: "No, no-o-o, no-o-o-o-o!"-- this was the noise that rose on the Parliamentary air, and that gave vent to all the passion which had been excited.

And then came the division and a restoration of calm.
[Sidenote: Charwomen and ratcatchers.] The Whip is a cunning dog, especially if he be the Whip of the party in power; and you have to be a long time in Parliament before you know all his wiles, and fully appreciate their meaning.

For instance, few innocent outsiders would understand why it is that the Whip always puts down Estimates for a day immediately after the end of a vacation.