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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/8435-8.txt b/8435-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f6f3068 --- /dev/null +++ b/8435-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7913 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Sturdy Oak, by Samuel Merwin, et al. + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Sturdy Oak + A Composite Novel of American Politics by Fourteen American Authors + +Author: Samuel Merwin, et al. + +Editor: Elizabeth Jordan + +Release Date: July, 2005 [EBook #8435] +Posting Date: August 10, 2009 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STURDY OAK *** + + + + +Produced by Eric Eldred, David Widger, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team + + + + + + +THE STURDY OAK + +A COMPOSITE NOVEL OF AMERICAN POLITICS BY FOURTEEN AMERICAN AUTHORS + +By Samuel Merwin, et al. + + +[Illustration] THE STURDY OAK + + +Other Authors: + + SAMUEL MERWIN + HARRY LEON WILSON + FANNIE HURST + DOROTHY CANFIELD + KATHLEEN NORRIS + HENRY KITCHELL WEBSTER + ANNE O'HAGAN + MARY HEATON VORSE + ALICE DUER MILLER + ETHEL WATTS MUMFORD + MARJORIE BENTON COOKE + WILLIAM ALLEN WHITE + MARY AUSTIN + LEROY SCOTT + + +THEME BY MARY AUSTIN + +The chapters collected and (very cautiously) edited by ELIZABETH JORDAN + +NEW YORK HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY 1917 [Blank-copyright info] + + + + + +PREFACE + +At a certain committee meeting held in the spring of 1916, it was agreed +that fourteen leading American authors, known to be extremely generous +as well as gifted, should be asked to write a composite novel. + +As I was not present at this particular meeting, it was unanimously and +joyously decided by those who were present that I should attend to the +trivial details of getting this novel together. + +It appeared that all I had to do was: + +First, to persuade each of the busy authors on the list to write a +chapter of the novel. + +Second, to keep steadily on their trails from the moment they promised +their chapters until they turned them in. + +Third, to have the novel finished and published serially during the +autumn Campaign of 1917. + +The carrying out of these requirements has not been the childish +diversion it may have seemed. Splendid team work, however, has made +success possible. + + +Every author represented, every worker on the team, has gratuitously +contributed his or her services; and every dollar realized by the serial +and book publication of "The Sturdy Oak" will be devoted to the Suffrage +Cause. But the novel itself is first of all a very human story of +American life today. It neither unduly nor unfairly emphasizes the +question of equal suffrage, and it should appeal to all lovers of good +fiction. + +Therefore, pausing only to wipe the beads of perspiration from our +brows, we urge every one to buy this book! + +ELIZABETH JORDAN. + +NEW YORK. + +_November_, 1917. CONTENTS + + + +CHAPTER + + I. BY SAMUEL MERWIN + + II. BY HARRY LEON WILSON + + III. BY FANNIE HURST + + IV. BY DOROTHY CANFIELD + + V. BY KATHLEEN NORRIS + + VI. BY HENRY KITCHELL WEBSTER + + VII. BY ANNE O'HAGAN + + VIII. BY MARY HEATON VORSE + + IX. BY ALICE DUER MILLER + + X. BY ETHEL WATTS MUMFORD + + XI. BY MARJORIE BENTON COOK + + XII. BY WILLIAM ALLEN WHITE + + XIII. BY MARY AUSTIN + + XIV. BY LEROY SCOTT ILLUSTRATIONS + + +"Nobody ever means that a woman really can't get along without a man's +protection, because look at the women who do." + +It was hard on the darling old boy to come home to Miss Emelene and the +cat and Eleanor and Alys every night! + +"You mean because she's a suffragist? You sent her away for _that!_ Why, +really, that's _tyranny!_" + +Across the way, Mrs. Herrington, the fighting blood of five generations +of patriots roused in her, had reinstated the Voiceless Speech. + + + +PRINCIPAL CHARACTERS + +_George Remington_... Aged twenty-six; newly married. Recently returned +to his home town, New York State, to take up the practice of law. +Politically ambitious, a candidate for District Attorney. Opposed to +woman suffrage. + +_Genevieve_... His wife, aged twenty-three, graduate of Smith. Devoted +to George; her ideal being to share his every thought. + +_Betty Sheridan_... A friend of Genevieve. Very pretty; one of the first +families, well-to-do but in search of economic independence. Working as +stenographer in George's office; an ardent Suffragist. + +_Penfield Evans_... Otherwise "Penny," George's partner, in love with +Betty. Neutral on the subject of Suffrage. + +_Alys Brewster-Smith_... Cousin of George, once removed; thirty-three, +a married woman by profession, but temporarily widowed. Anti-suffragist. +One Angel Child aged five. + +_Martin Jaffry_... Uncle to George, bachelor of uncertain age and +certain income. The widow's destined prey. + +_Cousin Emelene_.... On Genevieve's side. Between thirty-five and forty, +a born spinster but clinging to the hope of marriage as the only career +for women. Has a small and decreasing income. Affectedly feminine and +genuinely incompetent. + + +_Mrs. Harvey Herrington_.... President of the Woman's Club, the +Municipal League, Suffrage Society leader, wealthy, cultured and +possessing a sense of humor. + +_Percival Pauncefoot Sheridan_.... Betty's brother, fifteen, commonly +called Pudge. Pink, pudgy, sensitive; always imposed upon, always +grouchy and too good-natured to assert himself. + +_E. Eliot_.... Real estate agent (added in Chapter VI by Henry Kitchell +Webster). + +_Benjamin Doolittle_.... A leader of his party, and somewhat careless +where he leads it. (Added in Anne O'Hagan's Chapter). + +_Patrick Noonan_.... A follower of Doolittle. + +Time.... The Present. + +Place.... Whitewater, N. Y. A manufacturing town of from ten to fifteen +thousand inhabitants. + + + + +THE STURDY OAK + + +CHAPTER I. BY SAMUEL MERWIN + + +Genevieve Remington had been called beautiful. She was tall, with brown +eyes and a fine spun mass of golden-brown hair. She had a gentle smile, +that disclosed white, even teeth. Her voice was not unmusical. She +was twenty-three years old and possessed a husband who, though only +twenty-six, had already shown such strength of character and such +aptitude at the criminal branch of the law that he was now a candidate +for the post of district attorney on the regular Republican ticket. + +The popular impression was that he would be elected hands down. His +address on Alexander Hamilton at the Union League Club banquet at +Hamilton City, twenty-five miles from Whitewater (with which smaller +city we are concerned in this narrative), had been reprinted in full +in the Hamilton City _Tribune_; and Mrs. Brewster-Smith reported that +former Congressman Hancock had compared it, not unfavorably, with +certain public utterances of the Honorable Elihu Root. + +George Remington was an inch more than six feet tall, with sturdy +shoulders, a chin that gave every indication of stubborn strength, a +frank smile, and a warm, strong handclasp. He was connected by blood (as +well as by marriage) with five of the eight best families in Whitewater. +Mr. Martin Jaffry, George's uncle and sole inheritor of the great Jaffry +estate (and a bachelor), was known to favor his candidacy; was supposed, +indeed, to be a large contributor to the Remington campaign fund. In +fact, George Remington was a lucky young man, a coming young man. + +George and Genevieve had been married five weeks; this was their first +day as master and mistress of the old Remington place on Sheridan Road. + +Genevieve, that afternoon, was in the long living-room, trying out +various arrangements of the flowers that had been sent in. There were a +great many flowers. Most of them came from admirers of George. The Young +Men's Republican Club, for one item, had sent eight dozen roses. +But Genevieve, still a-thrill with the magic of her five-weeks-long +honeymoon, tremulously happy in the cumulative proof that her husband +was the noblest, strongest, bravest man alive, felt only joy in his +popularity. + +As his wife she shared his triumphs. "For better or worse, for richer +or poorer, in sickness and health..." the ancient phrases repeated +themselves so many times in her softly confused thought, as she moved +about among the flowers, that they finally took on a rhythm-- + + _"For better or worse, + For richer or poorer, + For richer or poorer, + For better or worse--"_ + + * * * * * + +On this day her life was beginning. She had given herself irrevocably +into the hands of this man. She would live only in him. Her life would +find expression only through his. His strong, trained mind would be her +guide, his sturdy courage her strength. He would build for them both, +for the twain that were one. + +She caught up one red rose, winked the moisture from her eyes, and +gazed--rapt, lips parted, color high--out at the close-clipped lawn +behind the privet hedge. The afternoon would soon be waning--in another +hour or so. She must not disturb him now. + +In an hour, say, she would run up the stairs and tap at his door. And +he would come out, clasp her in his big arms, and she would stand on the +tips of her toes and kiss away the wrinkles between his brows, and they +would walk on the lawn and talk about themselves and the miracle of +their love. + +The clock on the mantel struck three. She pouted; turned and stared at +it. "Well," she told herself, "I'll wait until half-past four." + +The doorbell rang. + +Genevieve's color faded. The slim hand that held the rose trembled a +very little. Her first caller! She decided that it would be best not +to talk about George. Not one word about George! Her feelings were her +secret--and his. + +Marie ushered in two ladies. One, who rushed forward with outstretched +hand, was a curiously vital-appearing creature in black--plainly a +widow--hardly more than thirty-two or thirty-three, fresh of skin, +rather prominent as to eyeballs, yet, everything considered, a handsome +woman. This was Alys Brewster-Smith. The other, shorter, slighter, +several years older, a faded, smiling, tremulously hopeful spinster, was +Genevieve's own cousin, Emelene Brand. + +"It's so nice of you to come--" Geneviève began timidly, only to be +swept aside by the superior aggressiveness and the stronger voice of +Mrs. Brewster-Smith. + +"My _dear_! Isn't it perfectly delightful to see you actually mistress +of this wonderful old home. And"--her slightly prominent eyes swiftly +took in furniture, pictures, rugs, flowers,--"how wonderfully you +have managed to give the old place your own tone!" "Nothing has been +changed," murmured Genevieve, a thought bewildered. + +"Nothing, my dear, but yourself! I am _so_ looking forward to a good +talk with you. Emelene and I were speaking of that only this noon. And +I can't tell you how sorry I am that our first call has to be on a +miserable political matter. Tell me, dear, is that wonderful husband of +yours at home?" + +"Why--yes. But I am not to disturb him." + +"Ah, shut away in his den?" + +Genevieve nodded. + +"It's a very important paper he has to write. It has to be done now, +before he is drawn into the whirl of campaign work." + +"Of course! Of course! But I'm afraid the campaign is whirling already. +I will tell you what brought us, my dear. You know of course that +Mrs. Harvey Herrington has come out for suffrage--thrown in her whole +personal weight and, no doubt, her money. I can't understand it--with +her home, and her husband--going into the mire of politics. But that is +what she has done. And Grace Hatfield called up not ten minutes ago to +say that she has just led a delegation of ladies up to your husband's +office. Think of it--to his office! The first day!... Well, Emelene, it +is some consolation that they won't find him there." + +"He isn't going to the office today," said Genevieve. "But what can they +want of him?" + +"To get him to declare for suffrage, my dear." + +"Oh--I'm sure he wouldn't do that!" + +"Are you, my dear? Are you _sure_?" + +"Well----" + +"He has told you his views, of course?" + +Genevieve knit her brows. "Why, yes--of course, we've talked about +things----" + +"My dear, of course he is _against suffrage_." + +"Oh yes, of course. I'm sure he is. Though, you see, I would no more +think of intruding in George's business affairs than he would think of +intruding in my household duties." + +"Naturally, Genevieve. And very sweet and dear of you! But I'm sure you +will see how very important this is. Here we are, right at the beginning +of his campaign. Those vulgar women are going to hound him. They've +begun already. As our committee wrote him last week, it is vitally +important that he should declare himself unequivocally at once." + +"Oh, yes," murmured Genevieve, "of course. I can see that." + +The doors swung open. A thin little man of forty to fifty stood there, +a dry but good-humored man, with many wrinkles about his quizzical blue +eyes, and sandy hair at the sides and back of an otherwise bald head. +He was smartly dressed in a homespun Norfolk suit. He waved a cap of +homespun in greeting. + +"Afternoon, ladies! Genevieve, a bachelor's admiration and respect! I +hope that boy George has got sense enough to be proud of you. But they +haven't at that age. They're all for themselves." + +"Oh no, Uncle Martin," cried Genevieve, "George is the most +generous----" + +Mr. Martin Jaffry flicked his cap. "All right. All right! He is." And +slowly retreated. + +Mrs. Brewster-Smith, an eager light in her eyes, moved part way across +the room. "But we can't let you run away like this, Mr. Jaffry. Do sit +down and tell us about the work you are doing at the Country Club. Is it +to be bowling alley _and_ swimming pool----" + +"Bowling alley _and_ swimming pool, yes. Tell me, chick, might a humble +constituent speak to the great man?" + +Genevieve hesitated. "I'm sure he'd love to see you, Uncle Martin. But +he _did_ say----" + +"Not to be disturbed by _any_body, eh?" + +"Yes, Uncle Martin. It's a very important statement he has to prepare +before----" + +"Good day, then. You look fine in the old house, chick!" + +Mr. Jaffry donned his cap of homespun, ran down the steps and out the +front walk, hopped into his eight-cylinder roadster, and was off down +the street in a second. There was a sharp decisiveness about his exit, +and about the sudden speed of his machine; all duly noted by Mrs. +Brewster-Smith, who had gone so far as to move down the room to the +front window and watch the performance with narrowed eyes. The Jaffry +Building stands at the southwest corner of Fountain Square. It boasts +six stories, mosaic flooring in the halls, and the only passenger +elevator in Whitewater. The ground floor was given over to Humphrey's +drug store; and most of Humphrey's drug store was given over to the +immense marble soda fountain and the dozen or more wire-legged tables +and the two or three dozen wire chairs that served to accommodate the +late afternoon and evening crowd. + +At the moment the fountain had but one patron--a remarkably fat boy of, +perhaps, fifteen, with plump cheeks and drooping mouth.... The row of +windows across the second floor front of the building, above Humphrey's, +bore, each, the legend--_Remington and Evans, Attorneys at Law_. + +The fat boy was Percival Sheridan, otherwise Pudge. His sister, Betty +Sheridan, worked in the law offices directly overhead and possessed a +heart of stone. + +Betty was rich, at least in the eyes of Pudge. For more than a +year (Betty was twenty-two) she had enjoyed a private income. Pudge +definitely knew this. She had money to buy out the soda fountain. But +her character, thought Pudge, might be summed up in the statement that +she worked when she didn't have to (people talked about this; even to +him!) and flatly refused to give her brother money for soda. + +As if a little soda ever hurt anybody. She took it herself, often +enough. Within five minutes he had laid the matter before her--up in +that solemn office, where they made you feel so uncomfortable. She had +said: "Pudge Sheridan, you're killing yourself! Not one cent more for +wrecking your stomach!" + +She had called him "Pudge." For months he had been reminding her that +his name was Percival. And he wasn't wrecking his stomach. That was +silly talk. He had eaten but two nut sundaes and a chocolate frappé +since luncheon. It wasn't soda and candy that made him so fat. Some +folks just were fat, and some folks were thin. That was all there was +_to_ it! + +Pudge himself would have a private income when he was twenty-one. Six +years off... and Billy Simmons in his white apron, was waiting now, on +the other side of the marble counter, for his order--and grinning as +he waited. Six years! Why, Pudge would be a man then--too old for nut +sundaes and chocolate frappés, too far gone down the sober slope of life +to enjoy anything! + +Pudge wriggled nervously, locked his feet around behind the legs of +the high stool, rubbed a fat forefinger on the edge of the counter, and +watched the finger intently with gloomy eyes. + +"Well, what'll it be, Pudge?" This from Billy Simmons. + +"My name ain't Pudge." + +"Very good, Mister Sheridan. What'll it be?" + +"One of those chocolate marshmallow nut sundaes, I guess, if--if----" + +"If what, Mister Sheridan?" + +"--if, oh well, just charge it." + +Billy Simmons paused in the act of reaching for a sundae glass. The +smile left his face. + +Pudge, though he did not once look up from that absorbing little +operation with the fat forefinger, felt this pause and knew that Billy's +grin had gone; and his own mouth drooped and drooped. It was a tense +moment. + +"You see, Pudge," Billy began in some embarrassment, only to conclude +rather sharply, "I'll have to ask Mr. Humphrey. Your sister said we +weren't----" + +"Oh, well!" sighed Pudge. Getting down from the stool he waddled slowly +out of the store. + +It was no use going up against old Humphrey. He had tried that. He went +as far as the fire-plug, close to the corner, and sank down upon it. +Everybody was against him. He would sit here awhile and think it over. +Perhaps he could figure out some way of breaking through the conspiracy. +Then Mr. Martin Jaffry drove up to the curb and he had to move his legs. +Mr. Jaffry said, "Hello, Pudge," too. It was all deeply annoying. + +Meantime, during the past half-hour, the law offices of Remington and +Evans were not lacking in the sense of life and activity. Things began +moving when Penny Evans (christened Penfield) came back from lunch. He +wore an air--Betty Sheridan noted, from her typewriter desk within the +rail--of determination. His nod toward herself was distinctly brusque; a +new quality which gave her a moment's thought. And then when he had +hung up his hat and was walking past her to his own private office, he +indulged in a faint, fleeting grin. + +Betty considered him. She had known Penny Evans as long as she could +remember knowing anybody; and she had never seen him look quite as he +looked this afternoon. + +The buzzer sounded. It was absurd, of course; nobody else in the +office. He could have spoken--you could hear almost every sound over the +seven-foot partitions. + +She rose, waited an instant to insure perfect composure, smoothed down +her trim shirtwaist, pushed back a straying wisp of her naturally wavy +hair, picked up her notebook and three sharp pencils, and went quietly +into his office. + +He sat there at his flat desk--his blond brows knit, his mouth firm, a +light of eager good humor in his blue eyes. + +"Take this," he said... Betty seated herself opposite him, and was +instantly ready for work. + +"... Memorandum. From rentals--the old Evans property on Ash Street, the +two houses on Wilson Avenue South, and the factory lease in the South +Extension, a total of slightly over $3600. + +"New paragraph. From investments in bonds, railway and municipal, an +average the last four years of $2800. + +"New paragraph. From law practice, last year, over $4500. Will be +considerably more this year. Total----" + +"New paragraph?" + +"No. Continue. Total, $10,900. This year will be close to $12,000. Don't +you think that's a reasonably good showing for an unencumbered man of +twenty-seven?" + +"Dictation--that last?" + +"No, personal query, Penny to Betty." + +"Yes, then, it is very good. You want this in memorandum form. Any +carbons?" + +"One carbon--in the form of a diamond--gift from Penny to Betty." Miss +Sheridan settled back in her chair, tapped her pretty mouth with her +pencil, and surveyed the blond young man. Her eyes were blue--frank, +capable eyes. + +"Penny, I like my work here----" + +"I should hope so----" + +"And I don't want to give it up." + +"Then don't." + +"I shall have to, Penny, if you don't stop breaking your word. It was +a definite agreement, you know. You were not to propose to me, on any +working day, before seven P.M. This is a proposal of course----" + +"Yes, of course, but I've just----" + +"That makes twice this month, then, that you've broken the agreement. +Now I can go on and put my mind on my work, if you'll let me. Otherwise, +I shall have to get a job where they _will_ let me." + +"But, Betty, I've just this noon sat down and figured up where I stand. +It has frightened me a little. I didn't realize I was taking in more +than ten thousand a year. And all of a sudden it struck me that I've +been an imbecile to wait, or make any agreement----" + +"Then you broke it deliberately?" + +"Absolutely. Betty--no fooling now; I'm in earnest----" + +Studying him, she saw that he was intensely in earnest. + +"You see, child, I've tried to be patient because I know how you were +brought up, what you're used to. Why, I wouldn't dream of asking you to +be my wife unless I could feel pretty sure of being able to give you +the comforts you've always had and ought to have. But hang it, Betty, I +_can_ do it right! I can give you a home that's worthy of you. Any time! +This year, even!" + +"Penny, do you think I care what your income is--for one minute?" + +"Why--why----" + +"When I'm earning twenty dollars a week myself and prouder of it than--" + +"But that's absurd, Betty--for you to be working--as a stenographer, of +all things! A girl with your looks and your gifts and all that's back of +you." + +"You mean that I should make marriage my profession?" + +"Well--well----" + +"Probably that's why we keep missing each other, Penny. I've pinned my +flag to the principle of economic independence. You're looking for +a girl who will marry for a living. There are lots of them. Pretty, +attractive girls, too. Your difficulty is, you want that sort. You +really believe all girls are that sort at heart, and you think my +independence a fad--something I shall get over. Don't you, now?" + +"Well, I'll confess I can't see it as the normal thing. Yes, I +believe--I hope--you will get over it." + +"Well--" Miss Sheridan slammed her book shut and stood up--"I won't." + +She stepped to the door. + +"And the agreement stands. I want to keep on working. And I want to keep +on being fond of you. That agreement is necessary to both desires." She +opened the door, hesitated and a hint of mischief flashed across her +face. "I'll tell you just the person for you, Penny. Really. Marriage is +her profession. She's very experienced. Temporarily out of a job--Alys +Brewster-Smith." + +He snatched a carnation from the glass on his desk and threw it at her. +It struck a closed door. + + * * * * * + +The outer door opened just then, and Mr. Martin Jaffry stepped in. He +nodded, with his little quizzical smile, to the composed young woman who +stood within the railing. + +"Anybody here, Betty?" + +A slight movement of her prettily poised head indicated the door marked +"Mr. Evans." And she said, "Penny's there." + +"Is he shut up, too? His partner is too important to be seen today." + +"Oh no," Betty replied, inscrutably sober, "he's not important." + +Mr. Jaffry wrinkled up his eyes, chuckled softly, then stepped to the +door of the unimportant one. Before opening it, he turned. "Mrs. Harvey +Herrington been in?" + +"Twice with a committee." + +"Any idea what she wanted?" + +Betty was aware that the whimsical and roundabout Mr. Jaffry knew +everything about everybody in Whitewater. She was further aware that he +had, undoubtedly, reasons of his own for questioning her. He was +always asking questions, anyway. Worse than a Chinaman. And for some +reason--perhaps because he was Martin Jaffry--you always answered his +questions. + +"Yes," said Betty. "She wants to pledge him to suffrage." + +"Umm! Yes, I see! You wouldn't be against that yourself, would you?" + +"Naturally not. I'm secretary of the Second Ward Suffrage Club." + +"Umm! Yes, yes!" With which illuminating comment, Mr. Jaffry tapped on +Penny Evans' door, opened it and entered. + +"Spare a minute?" he inquired. + +"Sure," said Penny; "two, ten! Take a chair." + +"No," replied Mr. Jaffry, "I won't take a chair. Think better on +my feet. I'm in a bit of a quandary. Suppose you tell me what this +important paper is that George is drawing up. Do you know?" + +"I do." + +"Is he coming out against suffrage?" + +"Flatly." + +"Umm!" Mr. Jaffry flicked his cap about. "I want to see George. He +mustn't do that." + +"Say, Mr. Jaffry, you haven't swung over----" + +"Not at all. It's tactics. I ought to see him." + +"Why not run out to his house----" + +"Just been there. Ran away. Some one there I'm afraid of." + +"Telephone?" + +Mr. Jaffry shook his head and lowered his voice. + +"With Betty hearing it at this end, and the committee from the Antis +sitting it out down there--the telephone's on the stair landing----" + +He pursed his lips, waved his cap slowly to and fro and observed it +with a whimsical expression on his sandy face, then glanced out of the +window. He stepped closer, looking sharply down. A very fat boy with +pink cheeks and a downcast expression was sitting on a fire-plug. Mr. +Jaffry leaned out. + +"Pudge," he called, "come up here a minute." + +On the Remington and Evans stationery he penciled a note, which he +sealed. Then he scribbled another--to Mrs. George Remington, asking her +to hand George the inclosure the moment he appeared from his work. The +two he slipped into a large envelope. The very fat boy stood before him. + +"Want to make a quarter, Pudge? Take this letter, right now, to Mrs. +George Remington. Give it to her personally. It's the old Remington +place, you know." + +He felt in his change pocket. It was empty. He hesitated, turned to +Evans, then, reconsidering, produced a dollar bill from another pocket +and gave it to the boy. + +"Now run," he said. + +The boy, speechless, turned and moved out of the office. His sister +spoke to him, but he did not turn his head. He rolled down the stairs to +the street, stood a moment in front of Humphrey's, drew a sudden breath +that was almost a gasp, waddled into the store, advanced directly on the +soda fountain, and with a blazing red face and angrily triumphant eyes +confronted Billy Simmons. + +"I'll take a chocolate marshmallow nut sundae," he said. "And you +needn't be stingy with the marshmallow, either!" + + * * * * * + +At ten minutes past four, the anxious Antis in the Remington living-room +heard the candidate for district attorney running down the stairs, and +even Mrs. Brewster-Smith was hushed. The candidate stopped, however, +on the landing. They heard him lift the telephone receiver. He called a +number. Then---- + +"_Sentinel_ office?... Mr. Ledbetter, please.... Hello, Ledbetter! +Remington speaking. I have that statement ready. Will you send a man +around?... Yes, right away. And I wish you'd put it on the wires. +Display it just as prominently as you can, won't you?... Thanks. That's +fine! Good-by." + +He ran back upstairs. + +But shortly he appeared, wearing the distrait, exalted expression of the +genius who has just passed through the creative act. He looked very tall +and strong as he stood before the mantel, receiving the congratulations +of Mrs. Brewster-Smith and the timid admiration of Cousin Emelene. His +few words were well chosen and were uttered with dignity. + +"And now, dear Mr. Remington, I'm sure I don't need to ask you if you +are taking the right stand on suffrage." This from Mrs. Brewster-Smith. + +The candidate smiled tolerantly. + +"If unequivocal opposition is 'right'----" + +"Oh, you dear man! I was sure we could count on you. Isn't it splendid, +Geneviève!" + +The reporters came. + + * * * * * + +It was a busy evening for the young couple. There were relatives for +dinner. Other relatives and an old friend or two came later. Throughout, +George wore that quietly exalted expression, and carried himself with +the new dignity. + +To the adoring Genevieve his chin had never appeared so long and strong, +his thought had never seemed so elevated, his quiet self-respect had +never been so commanding. He was no longer merely her George, he was now +a public figure. Soon he would be district attorney; then, very likely, +Governor; then--well, Senator; and finally--it was possible--some one +had to be--President of the United States. He had begun, this day, by +making a great decision, by stepping boldly out on principle, on moral +principle, and announcing himself a defender of the home, of the right. + +At midnight, the last guest departed. George and Genevieve stepped out +into the summer moonlight and strolled arm in arm down the walk. + +Waddling up the street appeared a very fat boy. + +"Why, Pudge," cried Geneviève, "what on earth are you doing out at this +time of night!" + +"I'm going home, I tell you!" muttered the boy, on the defensive. He +carried a large bag of what seemed to be chocolate creams, from which he +was eating. + +As he passed, a twinge of memory disturbed him. He fumbled in his +pockets. + +"I was to give you this," he said then; and leaving a crumpled envelope +in Genevieve's hand, he walked on as rapidly as he could. + +A few minutes later, standing under the light in the front hall, George +Remington read this penciled note: + +"I stood ready to contribute more than I promised--any amount to put +you over. But if you give out a statement against suffrage you're a damn +fool and I withdraw every cent. A man with no more political sense and +skill than that isn't worth helping. You should have advised me. + +"M. J." + + + + +CHAPTER II. BY HARRY LEON WILSON + + +It may have been surmised that our sterling young candidate for district +attorney had not yet become skilled in dalliance with the equivocal; +that he was no adept in ambiguity; that he would confront all issues +with a rugged valiance susceptible of no misconstruction; that, in +short, George Remington was no trimmer. + +If he opposed an issue, one knew that he opposed it from the heart out. +He said so and he meant it. And, being opposed to the dreadful heresy +of equal suffrage, no reader of the Whitewater _Sentinel_ that morning +could say, as the shrewd so often say of our older statesmen, that +George was "side-stepping." + +Not George's the mellow gift to say, in effect, that of course woman +should vote the instant she wishes to, though perhaps that day has not +yet come. Meantime the speaker boldly defies the world to show a man +holding woman in loftier regard than he does, or ready to accord her a +higher value in all true functions of the body politic. Equal suffrage, +thank God, is inevitable at some future time, but until that glorious +day when we can be assured that the sex has united in a demand for it, +it were perhaps as well not to cloud the issues of the campaign now +opening; though let it be understood, and he cannot put this too +plainly, that he reveres the memory of his gray-haired mother without +whose tender ministrations and wise guidance he could never have reached +the height from which he now speaks. And so let us pass on to the voting +on these canal bonds, the true inwardness of which, thanks to the +venal activities of a corrupt opposition, even an exclusively male +constituency has thus far failed to comprehend. And so forth. + +Our hero, then, had yet to acquire this finesse. As we are now +privileged to observe him, he is as easy to understand as the +multiplication table, as little devious and, alas! as lacking in +suavity. Yet, let us be fair to George. Mere innocence of guile, of +verbal trickery, had not alone sufficed for his passionate bluntness in +the present crisis. At a later stage in his career as a husband he might +have been equally blunt; yet never again, perhaps, would he have been so +emotional in his opposition to woman polluting herself with the mire of +politics. + +Be it recalled that but five weeks had elapsed since George had solemnly +promised to cherish and protect the fairest of the non-voting sex--at +least in his State--and he was still taking his mission seriously. As he +wrote the words that were now electrifying, in a manner of speaking, +the readers of the _Sentinel_, and of neighboring journals with enough +enterprise to secure them, he had beheld his own Genevieve, fine, +flawless, tenderly nourished flower that she was, being dragged from her +high place with the most distressing results. + +He saw her rushed from the sacred shelter of her home and made to attend +primaries; he saw her compelled to strive tearfully with problems that +revolted all her finer instincts; he saw her insulted at polling booths; +saw her voting in company with persons of both sexes whom one could +never know. + +He saw her tainted, bruised, beaten down in the struggle, losing little +by little all sense of the holy values of Wife, Mother, Home. As he +wrote he heard her weakening cries for help as she perished, and more +than once his left arm instinctively curved to shield her. + +Was it not for his wife, then; nay, for wifehood itself, that he wrote? +And so, was it quite fair for unmarried Penfield Evans, burning at +his breakfast table a cynical cigarette over the printed philippic, to +murmur, "Gee! old George _has_ spilled the beans!" + +Simple words enough and not devoid of friendly concern. But should he +not have divined that George had been appalled to his extremities of +speech by the horrendous vision of his fair young bride being hurled +into depths where she would be obliged, if not to have opinions of her +own, at least to vote with the rabble as he might decide they ought to +vote? + +And should not other critics known to us have divined the racking +anguish under which George had labored? For one, should not Elizabeth +Sheridan, amateur spinster, have been all sympathy for one who was +palpably more an alarmed bridegroom than a mere candidate? + +Should not her maiden heart have been touched by this plausible aspect +of George's dilemma, rather than her mere brain to have been steeled to +a humorous disparagement tinged with bitterness? + +And yet, "What rot!" muttered Miss Sheridan,--"silly rot, bally rot, +tommy rot, and all the other kinds!" + +Hereupon she creased a brow not meant for creases and defaced an +admirable nose with grievous wrinkles of disdain. "Sacred names of wife +and mother!" This seemed regrettably like swearing as she delivered +it, though she quoted verbatim. "Sacred names of petted imbeciles!" she +amended. + +Then, with berserker fury, crumpling her _Sentinel_ into a ball, she +venomously hurled it to the depths of a waste basket and religiously +rubbed the feel of it from her fingers. As she had not even glanced at +the column headed "Births, Deaths, Marriages," it will be seen that her +agitation was real. And surely a more discerning sympathy might have +been looked for from the seasoned Martin Jaffry. A bachelor full of +years and therefore with illusions not only unimpaired but ripened, who +more quickly than he should have divined that his nephew for the moment +viewed all womankind as but one multiplied Genevieve, upon whom it would +be heinous to place the shackles of suffrage? + +Perhaps Uncle Martin did divine this. Perhaps he was a mere trimmer, +a rank side-stepper, steeped in deceit and ever ready to mouth the +abominable phrase "political expediency." It were rash to affirm this, +for no analyst has ever fathomed the heart of a man who has come to his +late forties a bachelor by choice. One may but guess from the ensuing +meager data. + +Uncle Martin at a certain corner of Maple Avenue that morning, fell +in with Penfield Evans, who, clad as the lilies of a florist's window, +strode buoyantly toward his office, the vision of his day's toil pinkly +suffused by an overlaying vision of a Betty or Sheridan character. Mr. +Evans bubbled his greeting. "Morning! Have you seen it? Oh, _say_, have +you seen it?" + +The immediate manner of Uncle Martin not less than his subdued garb +of gray, his dark gloves and his somber stick, intimated that he saw +nothing to bubble about. + +"He has burned his bridges behind him." The speaker looked as grim as +any bachelor-by-choice ever may. + +"Regular little fire-bug," blithely responded Mr. Evans, moderating his +stride to that of the other. + +"Can't understand it," resumed the gloomy uncle. "I sent him word in +time; sent it from your office by messenger. It was plain enough. I told +him no money of mine would go into his campaign if he made a fool of +himself--or words to that effect." + +"Phew! Cast you off, did he? Just like that?" + +"Just like that! Went out of his way to overdo it, too. Needn't have +come out half so strong. No chance now to backwater--not a chance +on earth to explain what he really did mean--and make it something +different." "Quixotic! That's how it reads to me." + +Uncle Martin here became oracular, his somber stick gesturing to point +his words. + +"Trouble with poor George, he's been silly enough to blurt out the +truth, what every man of us thinks in his heart--" + +"Eh?" said Mr. Evans quickly, as one who has been jolted. + +"No more sense than to come right out and say what every one of us +thinks in his secret heart about women. I think it and you think it--" + +"Oh, well, if you put it _that_ way," admitted young Mr. Evans +gracefully. "But of course--" + +"Certainly, of _course!_ We all think it--sacred names of home and +mother and all the rest of it; but a man running for office these days +is a chump to say so, isn't he? Of course he is! What chance does it +leave him? Answer me that." + +"Darned little, if you ask me," said Mr. Evans judicially. "Poor old +George!" + +"Talks as if he were going to be married tomorrow instead of its having +come off five weeks ago," pursued Uncle Martin bitterly. Plainly there +were depths of understanding in the man, trimmer though he might be. + +Mr. Evans made no reply. Irrationally he was considering the terms "five +weeks" and "married" in relation to a spinster who would have professed +to be indignant had she known it. + +"Got to pull the poor devil out," said Uncle Martin, when in silence +they had traversed fifty feet more of the shaded side of Maple Avenue. + +"How?" demanded the again practical Mr. Evans. + +"Make him take it back; make him recant; swing him over the last week +before election. Make him eat his words with every sign of exquisite +relish. Simple enough!" + +"How?" persisted Mr. Evans. + +"Wiles, tricks, subterfuges, chicanery--understand what I mean?" + +"Sure! I understand what you mean as well as you do, but--come down to +brass tacks." + +"That's an entirely different matter," conceded Uncle Martin gruffly. +"It may take thought." + +"Oh, is that all? Very well then; we'll think. I, myself, will think. +First, I'll have a talk with the sodden amorist. I'll grill him. I'll +find the weak spot in his armor. There must be something we can put over +on him." + +"By fair means or foul," insisted Uncle Martin as they paused at the +parting of their ways. "Low-down, underhanded work--do you get what I +mean?" + +"I do, I do!" declared young Mr. Evans and broke once more into the +buoyant stride of an earlier moment. This buoyance was interrupted but +once, and briefly, ere he gained the haven of his office. + +As he stepped quite too buoyantly into Fountain Square, he was all but +run down by the new six-cylinder roadster of Mrs. Harvey Herrington, +driven by the enthusiastic owner. He regained the curb in time, with a +ready and heartfelt utterance nicely befitting the emergency. + +The president of the Whitewater Women's Club, the Municipal League and +the Suffrage Society, brought her toy to a stop fifteen feet beyond her +too agile quarry, with a fine disregard for brakes and tire surfaces. +She beckoned eagerly to him she might have slain. She was a large woman +with an air of graceful but resolute authority; a woman good to look +upon, attired with all deference to the modes of the moment, and +exhaling an agreeable sense of good-will to all. + +"Be careful always to look before you start across and you'll never have +to say such things," was her greeting to Mr. Evans, as he halted beside +this minor juggernaut. + +"Sorry you heard it," lied the young man readily. + +"Such a flexible little car--picks up before one realizes," conceded +Whitewater's acknowledged social dictator. "But what I wanted to say is +this: that poor daft partner of yours has mortally offended every woman +in town except three, with that silly screed of his. I've seen nearly +all of them that count this morning, or they've called me by telephone. +Now, why couldn't he have had the advice of some good, capable woman +before committing himself so rabidly?" + +"Who were the three?" queried Mr. Evans. + +"Oh, poor Genevieve, of course; she goes without saying. And you'd guess +the other two if you knew them better--his cousin, Alys Brewster-Smith, +and poor Genevieve's Cousin Emelene. They both have his horrible +school-boy composition committed to memory, I do believe. + +"Cousin Emelene recited most of it to me with tears in her weak eyes, +and Alys tells me his noble words have made the world seem like a +different place to her. She said she had been coming to believe that +chivalry of the old true brand was dying out, but that dear Cousin +George has renewed her faith in it. + +"Think of poor Genevieve when they both fall on his neck. They're going +up for that particular purpose this afternoon. The only two in town, +mind you, except poor Genevieve. Oh, it's too awfully bad, because aside +from this medieval view of his, George was probably as acceptable for +this office as any man could be." + +The lady burdened the word "man" with a tiny but distinguishable +emphasis. Mr. Evans chose to ignore this. + +"George's friends are going to take him in hand," said he. "Of course +he was foolish to come out the way he has, even if he did say only what +every man believes in his secret heart." + +The president of the Whitewater Woman's Club fixed him with a glittering +and suddenly hostile eye. + +"What! you too?" she flung at him. He caught himself. He essayed +explanations, modifications, a better lighting of the thing. But at the +expiration of his first blundering sentence Mrs. Herrington, with +her flexible little car, was narrowly missing an aged and careless +pedestrian fifty yards down the street. + + * * * * * + +"George come in yet?" + +For the second time Mr. Evans was demanding this of Miss Elizabeth +Sheridan who had also ignored his preliminary "Good morning!" + +Now for a moment more she typed viciously. One would have said that the +thriving legal business of Remington and Evans required the very swift +completion of the document upon which she wrought. And one would have +been grossly deceived. The sheet had been drawn into the machine at the +moment Mr. Evans' buoyant step had been heard in the outer hall, and +upon it was merely written a dozen times the bald assertion, "Now is the +time for all good men to come to the aid of the party." + +Actually it was but the mechanical explosion of the performer's mood, +rather than the wording of a sentiment now or at any happier time +entertained by her. + +At last she paused; she sullenly permitted herself to be interrupted. +Her hands still hovered above the already well-punished keys of the +typewriter. She glanced over a shoulder at Mr. Evans and allowed him to +observe her annoyance at the interruption. + +"George has not come in yet," she said coldly. "I don't think he will +ever come in again. I don't see how he can have the face to. I shouldn't +think he could ever show himself on the street again after that--that--" + +The young woman's emotion overcame her at this point. Again her +relentless fingers stung the blameless mechanism--"to come to the aid of +the party. Now is the time for all good--" She here controlled herself +to further speech. "And _you!_ Of course you applaud him for it. Oh, I +knew you were all alike!" + +"Now look here, Betty, this thing has gone far enough----" + +"Far enough, indeed!" + +"But you won't give me a chance!" + +Mr. Evans here bent above his employee in a threatening manner. + +"You don't even ask what I think about it. You say I'm guilty and ought +to be shot without a trial--not even waiting till sunrise. If you had +the least bit of fairness in your heart you'd have asked me what I +really thought about this outbreak of George's, and I'd have told you in +so many words that I think he's made all kinds of a fool of himself." + +"No! Do you really, Pen?" + +Miss Sheridan had swiftly become human. She allowed her eyes to meet +those of Mr. Evans' with an easy gladness but little known to him of +late. "Of course I do, Betty. The idea of a candidate for office in this +enlightened age breaking loose in that manner! It's suicide. He could be +arrested for the attempt in this State. Is that strong enough for you? +You surely know how I feel now, don't you? Come on, Betty dear! Let's +not spar in that foolish way any longer. Remember all I said yesterday. +It goes double today--really, I see things more clearly." + +Plainly Miss Sheridan was disarmed. + +"And I thought you'd approve every word of his silly tirade," she +murmured. Mr. Evans, still above her, was perilously shaken by the +softer note in her voice, but he controlled himself in time and sat +in one of the chairs reserved for waiting clients. It was near Miss +Sheridan, yet beyond reaching distance. He felt that he must be cool in +this moment of impending triumph. + +"Wasn't it the awfullest rot?" demanded the spinster, pounding out a row +of periods for emphasis. + +"And he's got to be made to eat his words," said Mr. Evans, wisely +taking the same by-path away from the one subject in all the world that +really mattered. + +"Who could make him?" + +"I could, if I tried." It came in quiet, masterful tones that almost +convinced the speaker himself. + +"Oh, Pen, if you could! Wouldn't that be a victory, though? If you only +could----" + +"Well, if I only could--and if I do?" His intention was too pointed to +be ignored. + +"Oh, _that_!" He winced at the belittling "that." "Of course I couldn't +promise--anyway I don't believe you could ever do it, so what's the use +of being silly?" + +"But you will--will you promise, if I _do_ convert George? Answer the +question, please!" Mr. Evans glared as only actual district attorneys +have the right to. + +"Oh, what nonsense--but, well, I'll promise--I'll promise to promise to +think very seriously about it indeed, if you bring George around." + +"Betty!" It was the voice of an able pleader and he half arose from his +chair, his arms eloquent of purpose. "'Now is the time for all good +men to come to the aid of the party. Now is the time for'--" wrote Miss +Sheridan with dazzling fingers, and the pleader resumed his seat. + +"How will you bring him 'round," she then demanded. + +"Wiles, tricks, stratagems," replied the rising young diplomat moodily, +smarting under the moment's defeat. + +"Serve him right for pulling all that old-fashioned nonsense," said Miss +Sheridan, and accorded her employer a glance in which admiration for his +prowess was not half concealed. + +"The words of a fool wise in his own folly," went on the encouraged Mr. +Evans, and then, alas! a victim to the slight oratorical thrill these +words brought him,--"honestly uttering what every last man believes +and feels about woman in his heart and yet what no sane man running for +office can say in public--here, what's the matter?" + +The latter clause had been evoked by the sight of a blazing Miss +Sheridan, who now stood over him with fists tightly clenched. "Oh, oh, +oh!" This was low, tense, thrilling. It expressed horror. "So that's +what your convictions amount to! Then you do applaud him, every word +of him, and you were deceiving me. Every man in his own heart, indeed. +Thank heaven I found you out in time!" + +It may be said that Mr. Evans now cowered in his chair. The term is not +too violent. He ventured to lift a hand in weak protest. + +"No, no, Betty, you are being unjust to me again. I meant that that was +what Martin Jaffry told me this morning. It isn't what I believe at all. +I tell you my own deepest sentiments are exactly what yours are in this +great cause which--which--" + + +Painfully he became aware of his own futility. Miss Sheridan had ceased +to blaze. Seated again before the typewriter she grinned at him with +amused incredulity. + +"You nearly had me going, Pen." + +Mr. Evans summoned the deeper resources of his manhood and achieved an +easier manner. He brazenly returned her grin. "I'll have you going again +before I'm through--remember that." + +"By wiles, tricks and stratagems, I suppose." + +"The same. By those I shall make poor George recant, and by those, +assuming you to be a woman with a fine sense of honor who will hold a +promise sacred, I shall have you going. And, mark my words, you'll be +going good, too!" + +"Silly!" + +She drew from the waste basket the maltreated _Sentinel_, unfurled it to +expose the offending matter, and smote the column with the backs of four +accusing fingers. + +"There, my dear, is your answer. Now run along like a good boy." + +"Silly!" said Mr. Evans, striving for a masterly finish to the unequal +combat. He arose, dissembling cheerful confidence, straightened the +frame of a steel-engraved Daniel Webster on the wall, and thrice paced +the length of the room, falsely appearing to be engaged in deep thought. + +Miss Sheridan, apparently for mere exclamatory purposes, now reread the +fulmination of the absent partner. She scoffed, she sneered, flouted, +derided, and one understood that she was including both members of the +firm. Then her listener became aware that she had achieved coherence. + +"Indeed, yes! Do you know what ought to happen to him? Every unprotected +female in this county ought to pack her trunk and trudge right up to +the Remington place and say, 'Here we are, noble man! We have read your +burning words in which you offer to protect us. Save us from the vote! +Let your home be our sanctuary. That's what you mean if you meant +anything but tommy-rot. Here and now we throw ourselves upon your +boasted chivalry. Where are our rooms, and what time is luncheon +served.'" + +"Here! Just say that again," called Mr. Evans from across the room. Miss +Sheridan obliged. She elaborated her theme. George should be taken at +his word by every weak flower of womanhood. If women were nothing +but ministering angels, it was "up to" George to give 'em a chance to +minister. + +So went Miss Sheridan's improvisation and Mr. Evans, suffering the +throes of a mighty inspiration, suddenly found it sweetest music. + +When Miss Sheridan subsided, Mr. Evans appeared to have forgotten the +cause of their late encounter. Whistling cheerily he bustled into his +own office, mumbling of matters that had to be "gotten off." For some +moments he busied himself at his desk, then emerged to dictate three +business letters to his late antagonist. + +He dictated in a formal and distant manner, pausing in the midst of the +last letter to spell out the word "analysis," which he must have known +would enrage her further. Then, quite casually, he wished to be told +if she might know the local habitat of Mrs. Alys Brewster-Smith and a +certain Cousin Emelene. His manner was arid. + +Miss Sheridan chanced to know that the ladies were sheltered in the +exclusive boarding-house of one Mrs. Gallup, out on Erie Street, and +informed him to this effect in the fewest possible words. Mr. Evans +whistled absently a moment, then formally announced that he should be +absent from the office for perhaps an hour. Hat, gloves and stick in +hand, he was about to nod punctiliously to the back of Miss Sheridan's +head when the door opened to admit none other than our hero, George +Remington. George wore the look of one who is uplifted and who yet has +found occasion to be thoughtful about it. Penfield Evans grasped his +hand and shook it warmly. + +"Fine, George, old boy--simply corking! Honestly, I didn't believe you +had it in you. You covered the ground and you did it in a big way. It +took nerve, all right! Of course you probably know that every woman in +town is speaking of your young wife as 'poor Genevieve,' but you've had +the courage of your convictions. It's great!" + +"Thanks, old man! I've spoken for the right as I saw it, let come what +may. By the way, has Uncle Martin been in this morning, or telephoned, +or sent any word?" + +Miss Sheridan coldly signified that none of these things had occurred, +whereupon George sighed in an interesting manner and entered his own +room. + +Mr. Evans had uttered his congratulations in clear, ringing tones and +Miss Sheridan, even as she wrote, contrived with her trained shoulders +to exhibit to his lingering eye an overwhelming contempt for his +opinions and his double-dealing. + +In spite of which he went out whistling, and dosed the door in a defiant +manner. + + + + +CHAPTER III. BY FANNIE HURST + + +Destiny, busybody that she is, has her thousand irons in her perpetual +fires, turning, testing and wielding them. + +While Miss Betty Sheridan, for another scornful time, was rereading the +well-thumbed copy of the _Sentinel_, her fine back arched like a prize +cat's, George Remington in his small mahogany office adjoining, neck low +and heels high, was codifying, over and over again, the small planks +of his platform, stuffing the knot holes which afforded peeps to the +opposite side of the issue with anti-putty, and planning a bombardment +of his pattest phrases for the complete capitulation of his Uncle +Jaffry. + +While Genevieve Remington in her snug library, so eager in her +wifeliness to clamber up to her husband's small planks, and if need +be, spread her prettily flounced skirts over the rotting places, was +memorizing, with more pride than understanding, extracts from the +controversial article for quotation at the Woman's Club meeting, Mr. +Penfield Evans, with a determination which considerably expanded his +considerable chest measurement, ran two at a bound up the white stone +steps of Mrs. Gallup's private boarding-house and pulled out the white +china knob of a bell that gave no evidence of having sounded within, and +left him uncertain to ring again. + +A cast-iron deer, with lichen growing along its antlers, stood poised +for instant flight in Mrs. Gallup's front yard. + +While Mr. Evans waited he regarded its cast-iron flanks, but not +seeingly. His rather the expression of one who stares into the future +and smiles at what he sees. + +Erie Street, shaded by a double row of showy chestnuts, lay in summer +calm. A garden hose with a patent attachment spun spray over an +adjoining lawn and sent up a greeny smell. Out from under the striped +awning of Hassebrock's Ice Cream Parlor, cat-a-corner, Percival +Pauncefort Sheridan, in rubber-heeled canvas shoes and white trousers, +cuffed high, emerged and turned down Huron Street, making frequent +forays into a bulging rear pocket. + +Miss Lydia Chipley, vice-president of the Busy Bee Sewing and Civic +Club, cool, starchy and unhatted, clicked past on slim, trim heels, +all radiated by the reflection from a pink parasol, gay embroidery bag +dangling. + +"Hello, Lyd!" + +"Hello, Pen!" + +"What's your hurry?" + +"It's my middle name." + +"Why hurry, when the future is always waiting?" + +"Why aren't you holding your partner's head since he committed political +suicide in the _Sentinel_?" + +"I'd rather hold your head, Lyd, any day in the week." + +"Gaul," said Miss Chipley, passing on, her sharply etched little face +glowing in the pink reflection of the parasol, "is bounded on the north +by Mrs. Gallup's boarding-house, and on the south by----" + +"By the Frigid Zone!" + +Then the door from behind swung open. Mr. Penfield Evans stepped into +Mrs. Gallup's cool, exclusive parlor of better days, and delivering his +card to a moist-fingered maid, sat himself among the shrouded furniture +to await Mrs. Alys Brewster-Smith and Miss Emelene Brand. + +Mrs. Gallup's boarding-house was finishing its noonday meal. Boiled +odors lay upon a parlor that was otherwise redolent of the more opulent +days of the Gallups. A not too ostentatious clatter of dishes came +through the closed folding-doors. + +Almost immediately Mrs. Alys Brewster-Smith, her favorite Concentrated +Breath of the Lily always in advance, rustled into the darkened parlor, +her stride hitting vigorously into her black taffeta skirts. Even as she +shook hands with Mr. Evans, she jerked the window shade to its height, +so that her smoothness and coloring shone out above her weeds. + +In the shadow of her and at her life job of bringing up the rear, with +a large Maltese cat padding beside her, entered Miss Brand on rubber +heels. She was the color of long twilight. + +Mr. Evans rose to his six-feet-in-his-stockings and extended them each a +hand, Miss Emelene drawing the left. + +Mrs. Smith threw up a dainty gesture, black lace ruffles falling back +from arms all the whiter because of them. + +"Well, Penny Evans!" + +"None other, Mrs. Smith, than the villain himself." + +"Be seated, Penfield." + +"Thanks, Miss Emelene." + +They drew up in a triangle beside the window overlooking the cast-iron +deer. The cat sprang up, curling in the crotch of Miss Emelene's arm. + +"Nice ittie kittie, say how-do to big Penny-field-Evans. Say how-do to +big man. Say how-do, muvver's ittie kittie." Miss Emelene extended +the somewhat reluctant Maltese paw, five hook-shaped claws slightly in +evidence. + +"Say how-do to Hanna, Penfield. Hanna, say how-do to big man." "How-do, +Hanna," said Mr. Evans, reddening slightly beneath his tan. Then hitched +his chair closer. + +"To what," he began, flashing his white smile from one to the other of +them, and with a strong veer to the facetious, "are we indebted for the +honor of this visit? Are those the unspoken words, ladies?" + +"Nothing wrong at home, Penfield? Nobody ailing or--" + +"No, no, Miss Emelene, never better. As a matter of fact, it's a piece +of political business that has prompted me to--" + +At that Mrs. Smith jangled her bracelets, leaning forward on her knees. + +"If it's got anything to do with your partner and my cousin George +Remington having the courage to go in for the district attorneyship +without the support of the vote-hunting, vote-eating women of this town, +I'm here to tell you that I'm with him heart and soul. He can have my +support and--" + +"Mine too. And if I've got anything to say my two nephews will vote for +him; and I think I have, with my two heirs." + +"Ladies, it fills my heart with joy to--" + +"Votes! Why what would the powder-puffing, short-skirted, bridge-playing +women of this town do with the vote if they had it? Wear it around their +necks on a gold chain?" + +"Well spoken, Mrs. Smith, if--" + +"I know the direction you lean, Penfield Evans, letting--" + +"But, Miss Emelene, I--" + +"Letting that shameless Betty Sheridan, a girl that had as sweet and +womanly a mother as Whitewater ever boasted, lead you around by the +nose on her suffrage string. A girl with her raising and both of her +grandmothers women that lived and died genteel, to go traipsing around +in her low heels in men's offices and addressing hoi polloi from soap +boxes! Why, between her and that female chauffeur, Mrs. Herrington, +another woman whose mother was of too fine feelings even to join the +Delsarte class, the women of this town are being influenced to making +disgraceful--dis--oh, what shall I say, Alys?" + +Here Mrs. Smith broke in, thumping a soft fist into a soft palm. + +"It's the most pernicious movement, Mr. Evans, that has ever got hold of +this community and we need a man like my cousin George Remington to--" + +"But, Mrs. Smith, that's just what I--" + +"To stamp it out! Stamp it out! It's eating into the homes of +Whitewater, trying to make breadwinners out of the creatures God +intended for the bread-eaters--I mean bread-bakers." + +"But, Mrs. Smith, I--" + +"Woman's place has been the home since home was a cave, and it will +be the home so long as women will remember that womanliness is their +greatest asset. As poor dear Mr. Smith was so fond of saying, he--I +can't bring myself to talk of him, Mr. Evans, but--but as he used to +say, I--I--" + +"Yes, yes, Mrs. Smith, I understa--" + +"But as my cousin says in his article, which in my mind should be spread +broadcast, what higher mission for woman than--than--just what are his +words, Emelene?" + +Miss Brand leaned forward, her gaze boring into space. + +"What higher mission," she quoted, as if talking in a chapel, "for woman +than that she sit enthroned in the home, wielding her invisible but +mighty scepter from that throne, while man, kissing the hand that so +lovingly commands him, shall bear her gifts and do her bidding. That is +the strongest vote in the world. That is the universal suffrage which +chivalry grants to woman. The unpolled vote! Long may it reign!" + +Round spots of color had come out on Miss Emelene's long cheeks. + +"A man who can think like that has the true--the true--what shall I say, +Alys?" + +"But, ladies, I protest that I'm not--" + +"Has the true chivalry of spirit, Emelene, that the women are too stark +raving mad to appreciate. You can't come here, Mr. Evans, to two women +to whom womanliness and love of home, thank God, are still uppermost and +try to convert us to--" + +Here Mr. Evans executed a triple gyration, to the annoyance of Hanna, +who withdrew from the gesture, and raised his voice to a shout that was +not without a note of command. + +"Convert you! Why women alive, what I've been bursting a blood vessel +trying to say during the length of this interview is that I'd as soon +dip my soul in boiling oil as try to convert you away from the cause. +_My_ cause! _Our_ cause!" + +"Why--" + +"I'm here to tell you that I'm with my partner head-over-heels on the +plank he has taken." + +"But we thought--" + +"We thought you and Betty Sheridan--why, my cousin Genevieve Remington +told me that--" + +"Yes, yes, Miss Emelene. But not even the wiles of a pretty woman can +hold out indefinitely against Truth! A broad-minded man has got to +keep the door of his mind open to conviction, or it decays of mildew. I +confess that finally I am convinced that if there is one platform more +than another upon which George Remington deserves his election it is on +the brave and chivalrous principles he has so courageously come out with +in the current _Sentinel_. Whatever may have been between Betty Sheridan +and--" + +"Mr. Evans, you don't mean to tell me that you and Betty Sheridan have +quarreled! Such a desirable match from every point of view, family and +all! It goes to show what a rattle-pated bunch of women they are! Any +really clever girl with an eye to her future, anti or pro, could shift +her politics when it came to a question of matri--" + +"Mrs. Smith, there comes a time in every modern man's life when he's got +to keep his politics and his pretty girls separate, or suffrage will get +him if he don't watch out!" + +"Yes, and Mr. Evans, if what I hear is true, a good-looking woman can +talk you out of your safety deposit key!" + +"That's where you're wrong, Mrs. Smith, and I'll prove it to you. +Despite any wavering I may have exhibited, I now stand, as George puts +it in his article, 'ready to conserve the threatened flower of womanhood +by also endeavoring to conserve her unpolled vote!' If you women want +prohibition, it is in your power to sway man's vote to prohibition. +If you women want the moon, let man cast your proxy vote for it! In my +mind, that is the true chivalry. To quote again, 'Woman is man's +rarest heritage, his beautiful responsibility, and at all times his +co-operation, support and protection are due her. His support and +protection.'" + +Miss Emelene closed her eyes. The red had spread in her cheeks and she +laid her head back against the chair, rocking softly and stroking the +thick-napped cat. + +"The flower of womanhood," she repeated. "'His support and his +protection.' If ever a man deserved high office because of high +principles, it's my cousin George Remington! My cousin Genevieve +Livingston Remington is the luckiest girl in the world, and not one of +us Brands but what is willing to admit it. My two nephews, too, if their +Aunt Emelene has anything to say, and I think she has--" + +"Why, there isn't a stone in the world I wouldn't turn to see that boy +in office," Mrs. Smith interrupted. + +At that Mr. Evans rose. + +"You mean that, Mrs. Smith?" + +Miss Emelene rose with him, the cat pouring from her lap. + +"Of course she means it, Penfield. What self-respecting woman wouldn't!" + +Mr. Evans sat down again suddenly, Miss Emelene with him, and leaning +violently forward, thrust his eager, sun-tanned face between the two +women. + +"Well, then, ladies, here's your chance to prove it! That's what brings +me today. As two of the self-respecting, idealistic and womanly women of +this community, I have come to urge you both to--" + +"Oh, Mr. Evans!" + +"Penfield, you are the flatterer!" + +"To induce two such representative women as yourselves to help my +partner to the election he so well deserves." + +"Us?" "It is in your power, ladies, to demonstrate to Whitewater that +George Remington's chivalry is not only on paper, but in his soul." + +"But--how?" + +"By throwing yourselves upon his generosity and hospitality, at least +during the campaign. You have it in your power, ladies, to strengthen +the only uncertain plank upon which George Remington stands today." + +A clock ticked roundly into a silence tinged with eloquence. The Maltese +leaped back into Miss Emelene's lap, purring there. + +"You mean, Penfield, for us to go visit George--er--er--" + +"Just that! Bag and baggage. As two relatives and two unattached women, +it is your privilege, nay, your right." + +"But--" + +"He hasn't come out in words with it, but he has intimated that such an +act from the representative antis of this town would more than anything +strengthen his theories into facts. As unattached women, particularly as +women of his own family, his support and protection, as he puts it, are +due you, _due_ you!" + +Mrs. Smith clasped her plentifully ringed fingers, and regarded him with +her prominent eyes widening. + +"Why, I--unprotected widow that I am, Mr. Evans, am not the one to force +myself even upon my cousin if--" + +"Nor I, Penfield. It would be a pleasant enough change, heaven knows, +from the boarding-house. But you can ask your mother, Penfield, if there +ever was a prouder girl in all Whitewater than Emmy Brand. I--" + +"But I tell you, ladies, the obligation is all on George's part. It's +just as if you were polling votes for him. What is probably the oldest +adage in the language, states that actions speak louder than words. +Give him his chance to spread broadcast to your sex his protection, his +support. That, ladies, is all I--we--ask." + +"But I--Genevieve--the housekeeping, Penfield. Genevieve isn't much on +management when it comes to--" "Housekeeping! Why, I have it from your +fair cousin herself, Miss Emelene, that her idea of their new little +home is the Open House." + +"Yes, but--as Emelene says, Mr. Evans, it's an imposition to--" + +"Why do you think, Mrs. Smith, Martin Jaffry spends all his evenings +up at Remingtons' since they're back from their honeymoon? Why, he was +telling me only last night it's for the joy of seeing that new little +niece of his lording it over her well-oiled little household, where a +few extra dropping in makes not one whit of difference." + +At this remark, embedded like a diamond in a rock, a shade of faintest +color swam across Mrs. Smith's face and she swung him her profile and +twirled at her rings. + +"And where Genevieve Remington's husband's interests are involved, +ladies, need I go further in emphasizing your welcome into that little +home?" + +"Heaven knows it would be a change from the boarding-house, Alys. The +lunches here are beginning to go right against me! That sago pudding +today--and Gallup knowing how I hate starchy desserts!" + +"For the sake of the cause, Miss Emelene, too!" + +"Gallup would have to hold our rooms at half rate." + +"Of course, Mrs. Smith. I'll arrange all that." + +"I--I can't go over until evening, with three trunks to pack." + +"Just fine, Mrs. Smith. You'll be there just in time to greet George at +dinner." + +Miss Emelene fell to stroking the cat, again curled like a sardelle in +her lap. + +"Kitti-kitti-kitti--, does muvver's ittsie Hanna want to go on visit to +Tousin George in fine new ittie house? To fine Tousin Georgie what give +ittsie Hanna big saucer milk evvy day? Big fine George what like ladies +and lady kitties!" + +"Emelene, it's out of the question to take Hanna. You know how George +Remington hates cats! You remember at the Sunday School Bazaar when--" +A grimness descended like a mask over Miss Brand's features. Her mouth +thinned. + +"Very well, then. Without Hanna you can count me out, Penfield. If--" + +"No, no! Why nonsense, Miss Emelene! George doesn't--" + +"This cat has the feelings and sensibilities of a human being." + +"Why of course," cried Penfield Evans, reaching for his hat. "Just +you bring Hanna right along, Miss Emelene. That's only a pet pose of +George's when he wants to tease his relatives, Mrs. Smith. I remember +from college--why I've seen George _kiss_ a cat!" + +Miss Emelene huddled the object of controversy up in her chin, talking +down into the warm gray fur. + +"Was 'em tryin' to 'buse muvver's ittsie bittsie kittsie? Muvver's +ittsie bittsie kittsie!" + +They were in the front hall now, Mr. Evans tugging at the door. + +"I'll run around now and arrange to have your trunks called for at five. +My congratulations and thanks, ladies, for helping the right man toward +the right cause." + +"You're _sure_, Penfield, we'll be welcome?" + +"Welcome as the sun that shines!" + +"If I thought, Penfield, that Hanna wouldn't be welcome I wouldn't budge +a step." + +"Of course she's welcome, Miss Emelene. Isn't she of the gentler sex? +There'll be a cab around for you and Mrs. Smith and Hanna about five. So +long, Mrs. Smith, and many thanks. Miss Emelene, Hanna." + +On the outer steps they stood for a moment in a dapple of sunshine and +shadow from chestnut trees. + +"Good-by, Mr. Evans, until evening." + +"Good-by, Mrs. Smith." He paused on the walk, lifting his hat and +flashing his smile a third time. + +"Good-by, Miss Emelene." + +From the steps Miss Brand executed a rotary motion with the left paw of +the dangling Maltese. + +"Tell nice gentleman by-by. Tum now, Hanna, get washed and new ribbon to +go by-by. Her go to big Cousin George and piddy Cousin Genevieve. By-by! +By-by!" + +The door swung shut, enclosing them. Down the quiet, tree-shaped +sidewalk, Mr. Penfield Evans strode into the somnolent afternoon, +turning down Huron Street. At the remote end of the block and before +her large frame mansion of a thousand angles and wooden lace work, Mrs. +Harvey Herrington's low car sidled to her curb-stone, racy-looking as a +hound. That lady herself, large and modish, was in the act of stepping +up and in. + +"Well, Pen Evans! 'Tis writ in the book our paths should cross." + +"Who more pleased than I?" + +"Which way are you bound?" + +"Jenkins' Transfer and Cab Service." + +"Jump in." + +"No sooner said than done." + +Mrs. Herrington threw her clutch and let out a cough of steam. They +jerked and leaped forward. From the rear of the car an orange and black +pennant--_Votes for Women_--stiffened out like a semaphore against the +breeze. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. BY DOROTHY CANFIELD + + +Genevieve Remington sat in her pretty drawing-room and watched the hour +hand of the clock slowly approach five. Five was a sacred hour in her +day. At five George left his office, turned off the business-current +with a click and turned on, full-voltage, the domestic-affectionate. + +Genevieve often told her girl friends that she only began really to +live after five, when George was restored to her. She assured them +the psychical connection between George and herself was so close that, +sitting alone in her drawing-room, she could feel a tingling thrill +all over when the clock struck five and George emerged from his office +downtown. + +On the afternoon in question she received her five o'clock electric +thrill promptly on time, although history does not record whether or not +George walked out from his office at that moment. With all due respect +for the world-shaking importance of Mr. Remington's movements, it must +be stated that history had, on that afternoon, other more important +events to chronicle. + +As the clock struck five, the front doorbell rang. Marie, the maid, went +to open the door. Genevieve adjusted the down-sweeping, golden-brown +tress over her right eye, brushed an invisible speck from the piano, +straightened a rose in a vase, and after these traditionally bridal +preparations, waited with a bride's optimistic smile the advent of a +caller. But it was Marie who appeared at the door, with a stricken face +of horror. + +"Mrs. Remington! Mrs. Remington!" she whispered loudly. "They've come to +stay. The men are getting their trunks down from the wagon." + +"_Who_ has come to stay? _Where?_" queried the startled bride. + +"The two ladies who came to call yesterday!" + +"_Oh!_" said the relieved Genevieve. "There's some mistake, of course. +If it's Cousin Emelene and Mrs.----" + +She advanced into the hall and was confronted by two burly men with a +very large trunk between them. + +"Which room?" said one of them in a bored and insolent voice. + +"Oh, you must have come to the wrong house," Genevieve assured them with +her pretty, friendly smile. + +She was so happy and so convinced of the essential rightness of a world +which had produced George Remington that she had a friendly smile for +every one, even for unshaven men who kept their battered derby hats +on their heads, had viciously smelling cigars in their mouths, and +penetrated to her sacred front hall with trunks which belonged somewhere +else. + +"Isn't this G. L. Remington's house?" inquired one of the men, dropping +his end of the trunk and consulting a dirty slip of paper. + +"Yes, it is," admitted Genevieve, thrilling at the thought that it was +also hers. "This is the place all right, then," said the man. He heaved +up his end of the trunk again, and said once more, "Which room?" + +The repetition fell a little ominously on Genevieve's ear. What on earth +could be the matter? + +She heard voices outside and craning her soft white neck, she saw Cousin +Emelene, with her gray kitten under one arm and a large suitcase in her +other hand, coming up the steps. There was a beatific expression in her +gentle, faded eyes, and her lips were quivering uncertainly. When she +caught sight of Genevieve's sweet face back of the bored expressmen, she +gave a little cry, ran forward, set down her suitcase and clasped her +young cousin in her arms. + +"Oh Genevieve dear, that noble wonderful husband of yours! What have you +done to deserve such a man... out of this Age of Gold!" + +This was a sentiment after Genevieve's own heart, but she found it +rather too vague to meet the present somewhat tense situation. + +Cousin Emelene went on, clasping her at intervals, and talking very +fast. "I can hardly believe it! Now that my time of trial is all over +I don't mind telling you that I was growing embittered and cynical. All +those phrases my dear mother had brought me to believe, the sanctity of +the home, the chivalrous protection of men, the wicked folly of women +who leave the home to engage in fierce industrial struggle."... At about +this point the expressmen set the trunk down, put their hands on their +hips, cocked their hats at a new angle and waited in gloomy ennui for +the conversation to stop. Cousin Emelene flowed on, her voice unsteady +with a very real emotion. + +"See, dear, you must not blame me for my lack of faith... but see how it +looked to me. There I was, as womanly a woman as ever breathed, and yet +_I_ had no home to be sanctified, _I_ had never had a bit of chivalrous +protection from any man. And with the New Haven stocks shrinking from +one day to the next, the way they do, it looked as though I would either +have to starve or engage in the wicked, unwomanly folly of earning +my own living. Do you know, dear Genevieve, I had almost come to the +point--you know how the suffragists do keep banging away at their +points--I almost wondered if perhaps they were right and if men really +mean those things about protection and support in place of the vote.... +And then George's splendid, noble-spirited article appeared, and a kind +friend interpreted it for me and told what it really meant, for _me_! +Oh, Genevieve."... The tears rose to her mild eyes, her gentle, flat +voice faltered, she took out a handkerchief hastily. "It seemed too good +to be true," she said brokenly into its folds. "I've longed all my life +to be protected, and now I'm going to be!" + +"Which room, please?" said the expressman. "We gotta be goin' on." + +Genevieve pinched herself hard, jumped and said "_ouch_." Yes, she was +awake, all right! + +"Oh, Marie, will you please get Hanna a saucer of milk?" said Cousin +Emelene now, seeing the maid's round eyes glaring startled from the +dining-room door. "And just warm it a little bit, don't scald it. She +won't touch it if there's the least bit of a scum on it. Just take that +ice-box chill off. Here, I'll go with you this time. Since we're going +to live here now, you'll have to do it a good many times, and I'd better +show you just how to do it right." + +She disappeared, leaving a trail of caressing baby-talk to the effect +that she would take good care of muvver's ittie bittie kittie. + +She left Genevieve for all practical purposes turned to stone. She felt +as though she were stone, from head to foot, and she could open her +mouth no more than any statue when, in answer to the next repetition, +very peremptory now, of "Which room?" a voice as peremptory called from +the open front door, "Straight upstairs; turn to your right, first door +on the left." + +As the men started forward, banging the mahogany banisters with the +corners of the trunk at every step, Mrs. Brewster-Smith stepped in, +immaculate as to sheer collar and cuffs, crisp and tailored as to suit, +waved and netted as to hair, and chilled steel and diamond point as to +will-power. + +"Oh, Genevieve, I didn't see _you_ there! I didn't know why they stood +there waiting so long. I know the house so well I knew of course which +room you'll have for guests. _Dear_ old house! It will be like returning +to my childhood to live here again!" She cocked an ear toward the upper +regions and frowned, but went on smoothly. + +"Such happy girlhood hours as I have passed here! After all there is +nothing like the home feeling, is there, for us women at any rate! +We're the natural conservatives, who cling to the simple, elemental +satisfactions, and there's a heart-hunger that can only be satisfied +by a home and a man's protection! I thought George's description too +beautiful ... in his article you know... of the ideal home with the +women of the family safe within its walls, protected from the savagery +of the economic struggle which only men in their strength can bear +without being crushed." + +She turned quickly and terribly to the expressmen coming down the stairs +and said in so fierce a voice that they shrank back visibly, "There's +another trunk to take up to the room next to that. And if you let it +down with the bang you did this one, you'll get something that will +surprise you! Do you hear me!" + +They shrank out, cowed and tiptoeing. Mrs. Brewster-Smith turned back +to her young cousin-by-marriage and murmured, "That was such a true +and deep saying of George's... wherever does such a young man get his +wisdom!... that women are not fitted by nature to cope with hostile +forces!" + +Cousin Emelene approached from behind the statue of Genevieve, still +frozen in place with an expression of stupefaction on her white face. +The older woman put her arms around the bride's neck and gave her an +affectionate hug. + +"Oh, dearest Jinny, doesn't it seem like a dream that we're all going to +be together, all we women, in a real home, with a real man at the head +of it to direct us and give us of his strength! It does seem just like +that beautiful old-fashioned home that George drew such an exquisite +picture of, in his article, where the home was the center of the world +to the women in it. It will be to me, I assure you, dear. I feel as +though I had come to a haven, and as though I _never_ would want to +leave it!" + +The expressmen were carrying up another trunk now, and so conscious of +the glittering eyes of mastery upon them that they carried it as though +it were the Ark of the Covenant and they its chosen priests. Mrs. +Brewster-Smith followed them with a firm tread, throwing over her +shoulder to the stone Genevieve below, "Oh, my dear, little Eleanor +and her nurse will be in soon. Frieda was taking Eleanor for her usual +afternoon walk. Will you just send them upstairs when they come! I +suppose Frieda will have the room in the third story, that extra room +that was finished off when Uncle Henry lived here. Emelene, you'd better +come right up, too, if you expect to get unpacked before dinner." + +She disappeared, and Emelene fluttered up after her, drawn along by +suction, apparently, like a sheet of paper in the wake of a train. +The expressmen came downstairs, still treading softly, and went out. +Genevieve was alone again in her front hall. To her came tiptoeing +Marie, with wide eyes of query and alarm. And from Marie's questioning +face, Genevieve fled away like one fleeing from the plague. + +"Don't ask me, Marie! Don't _speak_ to me. Don't you dare ask me what... +or I'll..." She was at the front door as she spoke, poised for flight +like a terrified doe. "I must see Mr. Remington! I don't know _what_ to +tell you, Marie, till I have seen Mr. Remington! I must see my husband! +I don't know what to say, I don't know what to _think_, until I have +seen my husband." + +Calling this eminently wifely sentiment over her shoulder she ran +down the front walk, hatless, wrapless, just as she was in her pretty +flowered and looped-up bride's house dress. She couldn't have run faster +if the house had been on fire. + +The clicking of her high heels on the concrete sidewalk was a rattling +tattoo so eloquent of disorganized panic that more than one head was +thrust from a neighboring window to investigate, and more than one head +was pulled back, nodding to the well-worn and charitable hypothesis, +"Their first quarrel." The hypothesis would instantly have been +withdrawn if any one had continued looking after the fleeing bride long +enough to see her, regardless of passers-by, fling herself wildly into +her husband's arms as he descended from the trolley-car at the corner. + +Betty Sheridan was sitting in the drawing-room of her parents' house, +rather moodily reading a book on the _Balance of Trade_. + +She had an unconfessed weakness of mind on the subject of tariffs and +international trade. Although when in college she had written a paper +on it which had been read aloud in the Economics Seminar and favorably +commented upon, she knew, in her heart of hearts, that she understood +less than nothing about the underlying principles of the subject. This +nettled her and gave her occasional nightmare moments of doubt as to the +real fitness of women for public affairs. She read feverishly all she +could find on the subject, ending by addling her brains to the point of +frenzy. + +She was almost in that condition now although she did not look it in +the least as, dressed for dinner in the evening gown which replaced +the stark linens and tailored seams of her office-costume, she bent her +shining head and earnest face over the pages of the book. + +Penfield Evans took a long look at her, as one looks at a rose-bush in +bloom, before he spoke through the open door and broke the spell. + +"Oh, Betty," he called in a low tone, beckoning her with a gesture +redolent of mystery. + +Betty laid down her book and stared. "What you want?" she challenged +him, reverting to the phrase she had used when they were children +together. + +"Come on out here a minute!" he said, jerking his head over his +shoulder. "I want to show you something." + +"Oh, I can't fuss around with you," said Betty, turning to her book +again. "I've got Roberts' _Balance of Trade_ out of the library and I +must finish it by tomorrow." She began to read again. + +The young man stood silent for a moment. "Great Scott!" he was saying to +himself with a sinking heart. "So _that's_ what they pick up for light +reading, when they're waiting for dinner!" + +He had a particularly gone feeling because, although he had made +several successful political speeches on international trade and foreign +tariffs, he was intelligent enough to know in his heart of hearts that +he had no real understanding of the principles involved. He had come, +indeed, to doubt if any one had! + +Now, as he watched the pretty sleek head bent over the book he had +supposed of course was a novel, he felt a qualm of real apprehension. +Maybe there was something in what that guy said, the one who wrote +a book to prove (bringing Queen Elizabeth and Catherine the Great as +examples) that the real genius of women is for political life. Maybe +they _have_ a special gift for it! Maybe, a generation or so from now, +it'll be the _men_ who are disfranchised for incompetence.... He put +away as fantastic such horrifying ideas, and with a quick action of his +resolute will applied himself to the present situation. "Oh Betty, you +don't know what you're missing! It's a sight you'll never forget as long +as you live... oh, come on! Be a sport. Take a chance!" + +Betty was still suspicious of frivolity, but she rose, looked at her +wrist-watch and guessed she'd have a few minutes before dinner, to fool +away in light-minded society. + +"There's nothing light-minded about this!" Penny assured her gravely, +leading her swiftly down the street, around the corner, up another +street and finally, motioning her to silence, up on the well-clipped +lawn of a handsome, dignified residence, set around with old trees. + +"Look!" he whispered in her ear, dramatically pointing in through the +lighted window. "Look! What do you see?" + +Betty looked, and looked again and turned on him petulantly: + +"What foolishness are you up to now, Penfield Evans!" she whispered +energetically. "Why under the sun did you drag me out to see Emelene +and Alys Brewster-Smith dining with the Remingtons? Isn't it just +the combination of reactionary old fogies you might expect to get +together... though I didn't know Alys ever took her little girl out to +dinner-parties, and Emelene must be perfectly crazy over that cat to +take her here. Cats make George's flesh creep. Don't you remember, at +the Sunday School Bazaar." + +He cut her short with a gesture of command, and applying his lips to her +ear so that he would not be heard inside the house, he said, "You think +all you see is Emelene and Alys taking dinner _en famille_ with +the Remingtons. Eyes that see not! What you are gazing upon is a +reconstruction of the blessed family life that existed in the good +old days, before the industrial period and the abominable practice +of economic independence for women began! You are seeing Woman in +her proper place, the Home,... if not her own Home, somebody's Home, +anybody's Home... the Home of the man nearest to her, who owes her +protection because she can't vote. You are gazing upon..." + +His rounded periods were silenced by a tight clutch on his wrist. +"Penfield Evans. Don't you dare exaggerate to me! Have they come there +to stay! _To take him at his word!_" + +He nodded solemnly. + +"Their trunks are upstairs in the only two spare-rooms in the house, +and Frieda is installed in the only extra room in the attic. Marie gave +notice that she was going to quit, just before dinner. George has been +telephoning to my Aunt Harriet to see if she knows of another maid...." + +"Whatever... whatever could have made them _think_ of such a thing!" +gasped Betty, almost beyond words. + +"I did!" said Penfield Evans, tapping himself on the chest. "It was _my_ +giant intelligence that propelled them here." + +He was conscious of a lacy rush upon him, and of a couple of soft arms +which gave him an impassioned embrace none the less vigorous because +the arms were more used to tennis-racquets and canoe-paddles than +impassioned embraces. Then he was thrust back... and there was Betty, +collapsed against a lilac bush, shaking and convulsed, one hand +pressed hard on her mouth to keep back the shrieks of merriment which +continually escaped in suppressed squeals, the other hand outstretched +to ward him off.... + +"No, don't you touch me, I didn't mean a thing by it! I just couldn't +help it! It's too, _too_ rich! Oh Penny, you duck! Oh, I shall die! I +shall die! I never saw anything so funny in my life! Oh, Penny, take me +away or I shall perish here and now!" + +On the whole, in spite of the repulsing hand, he took it that he had +advanced his cause. He broke into a laugh, more light-hearted than he +had uttered for a long time. They stood for a moment more in the soft +darkness, gazing in with rapt eyes at the family scene. Then they +reeled away up the street, gasping and choking with mirth, festooning +themselves about trees for support when their legs gave way under them. + +"_Did_ you see George's face when Emelene let the cat eat out of her +plate!" cried Betty. + +"And did you see Genevieve's when Mrs. Brewster-Smith had the dessert +set down in front of her to serve!" + +"How about little Eleanor upsetting the glass of milk on George's +trousers!" + +"Oh _poor_ old George! Did you ever see such gloom!" + +Thus bubbling, they came again to Betty's home with the door still open +from which she had lately emerged. There Betty fell suddenly silent, +all the laughter gone from her face. The man peered in the dusk, +apprehensive. What had gone wrong, now, after all? + +"Do you know, Penny, we're pigs!" she said suddenly, with energy. "We're +hateful, abominable pigs!" + +He glared at her and clutched his hair. + +"Didn't you see Emelene Brand's face? I can't get it out of my mind! It +makes me sick, it was so happy and peaceful and befooled! Poor old +dear! She _believes_ all that! And she's the only one who does! And its +beastly in us to make a joke of it! She has wanted a home all her life, +and she'd have made a lovely one, too, for children! And she's been kept +from it by all this fool's talk about womanliness." + +"Help! What under the sun are you..." began Penfield. + +"Why, look here, she's not and never was, the kind any man wants to +marry. She wouldn't have liked a real husband, either... poor, dear, +thin-blooded old child! But she wanted a _home_ just the same. Everybody +does! And if she had been taught how to earn a decent living, if she +hadn't been fooled out of her five senses by that idiotic cant about a +man's doing everything for you, or else going without... why she'd be +working now, a happy, useful woman, bringing up two or three adopted +children in a decent home she'd made for them with her own efforts... +instead of making her loving heart ridiculous over a cat...." + +She dashed her hand over her eyes angrily, and stood silent for a +moment, trying to control her quivering chin before she went into the +house. + +The young man touched her shoulder with reverent fingers. "Betty," he +said in a rather unsteady voice, "its _true_, all that bally-rot about +women being better than men. You _are_!" + +With which very modern compliment, he turned and left her. + + + + +CHAPTER V. BY KATHLEEN NORRIS + + +Her first evening with her augmented family Genevieve Remington never +forgot. It is not at all likely that George ever forgot it, either; +but to George it was only one in the series of disturbing events that +followed his unqualified repudiation of the suffrage cause. + +To Genevieve's tender heart it meant the wreckage, not the preservation +of the home; that lovely home to whose occupancy she had so hopefully +looked. She was too young a wife to recognize in herself the evanescent +emotions of the bride. The blight had fallen upon her for all time. What +had been fire was ashes; it was all over. The roseate dream had been +followed by a cruel, and a lasting, awakening. + +Some day Genevieve would laugh at the memory of this tragic evening, as +she laughed at George's stern ultimatums, and at Junior's decision to +be an engineer, and at Jinny's tiny cut thumb. But she had no sense of +humor now. As she ran to the corner, and poured the whole distressful +story into her husband's ears, she felt the walls of her castle in Spain +crashing about her ears. + +George, of course, was wonderful; he had been that all his life. He only +smiled, at first, at her news. + +"You poor little sweetheart!" he said to his wife, as she clung to his +arm, and they entered the house together. "It's a shame to distress you +so, just as we are getting settled, and Marie and Lottie are working +in! But it's too absurd, and to have you worry your little head is +ridiculous, of course! Let them stay here to dinner, and then I'll just +quietly take it for granted that they are going home--" + +"But--but their trunks are here, dearest!" + +Husband and wife were in their own room now, and Genevieve was rapidly +recovering her calm. George turned from his mirror to frown at her in +surprise. "Their trunks! They didn't lose any time, did they? But do you +mean to say there was no telephoning--no notice at all?" + +"They may have telephoned, George, love. But I was over at Grace +Hatfield's for a while, and I got back just before they came in!" + +George went on with his dressing, a thoughtful expression on his face. +Genevieve thought he looked stunning in the loose Oriental robe he wore +while he shaved. + +"Well, whatever they think, we can't have this, you know," he said +presently. "I'll have to be quite frank with Alys,--of course Emelene +has no sense!" + +"Yes, be quite frank!" Genevieve urged eagerly. "Tell them that of +course you were only speaking figuratively. Nobody ever means that a +woman really can't get along without a man's protection, because look at +the women who _do_--" + +She stopped, a little troubled by the expression on his face. + +"I said what I truly believe, dear," he said kindly. "You know that!" +Genevieve was silent. Her heart beat furiously, and she felt that she +was going to cry. He was angry with her--he was angry with her! Oh, what +had she said, what _had_ she said! + +"But for all that," George continued, after a moment, "nobody but two +women could have put such an idiotic construction upon my words. I +am certainly going to make that point with Alys. A sex that can jump +headlong to such a perfectly untenable conclusion is very far from ready +to assume the responsibilities of citizenship--" + +"George, dearest!" faltered Genevieve. She did not want to make him +cross again, but she could not in all loyalty leave him under this +misunderstanding, to approach the always articulate Alys. + +"George, it was Penny, I'm sure!" she said. "From what they said,--they +talked all the time!--I think Penny went to see them, and sort of--sort +of--suggested this! I'm so sorry, George--" + +George was sulphurously silent. + +"And Penny will make the most of it, you know!" + +Genevieve went on quickly and nervously. "If you should send them back, +tonight, I know he'd tell Betty! And Betty says she is coming to see you +because she has been asked to read an answer to your paper, at the Club, +and she might--she has such a queer sense of humor--" + +Silence. Genevieve wished that she was dead, and that every one was +dead. + +"I don't want to criticize you, dear," George said presently, in his +kindest tone. "But the time to _act_, of course, was when they first +arrived. I can't do anything now. We'll just have to face it through, +for a few days." + +It was not much of a cloud, but it was their first. Genevieve went +downstairs with tears in her eyes. + +She had wanted their home to be so cozy, so dainty, so intimate! And now +to have two grown women and a child thrust into her Paradise! Marie was +sulky, rattling the silver-drawer viciously while her mistress talked +to her, and Lottie had an ugly smile as she submitted respectfully that +there wasn't enough asparagus. + +Then George's remoteness was terrifying. He carved with appalling +courtesy. "Is there another chicken, Genevieve?" he asked, as if he had +only an impersonal interest in her kitchen. No, there was only the one. +And plenty, too, said the guests pleasantly. Genevieve hoped there were +eggs and bacon for Marie and Lottie and Frieda. + +"I'm going to ask you for just a mouthful more, it tastes so delicious +and homy!" said Alys. "And then I want to talk a little business, +George. It's about those houses of mine, out in Kentwood...." + +George looked at her blankly, over his drumstick. + +"Darling Tom left them," said Tom's widow, "and they really have rented +well. They're right near the factory, you know. But now, just lately, +some man from the agents has been writing and writing me; he says that +one of them has been condemned, and that unless I do something or other +they'll all be condemned. It's a horrid neighborhood, and I don't like +the idea, anyway, of a woman poking about among drains and cellars. Yet, +if I send the agent, he'll run me into fearful expense; they always do. +So I'm going to take them out of his hands tomorrow, and turn it all +over to you, and whatever you decide will be best!" + +"My dear girl, I'm the busiest man in the world!" George said. "Leave +all that to Allen. He's the best agent in town!" + +"Oh, I took them away from Allen months ago, George. Sampson has them +now." + +"Sampson? What the deuce did you change for? I don't know that Sampson +is solvent. I certainly would go back to Allen--" + +"George, I can't!" + +The widow looked at her plate, swept him a coquettish glance, and +dropped her eyes again. + +"Mr. Allen is a dear fellow," she elucidated, "but his wife is dreadful! +There's nothing she won't suspect, and nothing she won't say!" + +"My dear cousin, this isn't a question of social values! It's business!" +George said impatiently. "But I'll tell you what to do," he added, after +scowling thought. "You put it in Miss Eliot's hands; she was with Allen +for some years. Now she's gone in for herself, and she's doing well. +We've given her several things--" "Take it out of a man's hands to put +it into a woman's!" Alys exclaimed. And Emelene added softly: + +"What can a woman be thinking of, to go into a dreadful business like +selling real estate and collecting rents!" + +"Of course, she was trained by men!" Genevieve threw in, a little +anxiously. Alys was so tactless, when George was tired and hungry. She +cast about desperately for some neutral topic, but before she could find +one the widow spoke again. + +"I'll tell you what I'll do, George. I'll bring the books and papers +to your office tomorrow morning, and then you can do whatever you think +best! Just send me a check every month, and it will be all right!" + +"Just gather me up what's there, on the plate," Emelene said, with her +nervous little laugh in the silence. "I declare I don't know when I've +eaten such a dinner! But that reminds me that you could help me +out wonderfully, too, Cousin George--I can't quite call you Mr. +Remington!--with those wretched stocks of mine. I'm sure I don't know +what they've been doing, but I know I get less money all the time! +It's the New Haven, George, that P'pa left me two years ago. I can't +understand anything about it, but yesterday I was talking to a young man +who advised me to put all my money into some tonic stock. It's a tonic +made just of plain earth--he says it makes everything grow. Doesn't +it sound reasonable? But if I should lose all I have, I'm afraid I'd +_really_ wear my welcome out, Genevieve, dear. So perhaps you'll advise +me?" + +"I'll do what I can!" George smiled, and Genevieve's heart rose. "But +upon my word, what you both tell me isn't a strong argument for Betty's +cause!" he added good-naturedly. + +"P'pa always said," Emelene quoted, "that if a woman looked about for a +man to advise her, she'd find him! And as I sit here now, in this lovely +home, I think--isn't it sweeter and wiser and better this way? For a +while,--because I was a hot-headed, rebellious girl!--I couldn't see +that he was right. I had had a disappointment, you know," she went on, +her kind, mild eyes watering. Genevieve, who had been gazing in +some astonishment at the once hot-headed, rebellious girl, sighed +sympathetically. Every one knew about the Reverend Mr. Totter's death. + +"And after that I just wanted to be busy," continued Emelene. "I wanted +to be a trained nurse, or a matron, or something! I look back at it now, +and wonder what I was thinking about! And then dear Mama went, and I +stepped into her place with P'pa. He wasn't exactly an invalid, but he +did like to be fussed over, to have his meals cooked by my own hands, +even if we were in a hotel. And whist--dear me, how I used to dread +those three rubbers every evening! I was only a young woman then, and +I suppose I was attractive to other men, but I never forgot Mr. Totter. +And Cousin George," she turned to him submissively, "when you were +talking about a woman's real sphere, I felt--well, almost guilty. +Because only that one man ever asked me. Do you think, feeling as I did, +that I should have deliberately made myself attractive to men?" + +George cleared his throat. "All women can't marry, I suppose. It's in +England, I believe, that there are a million unmarried women. But you +have made a contented and a womanly life for yourself, and, as a matter +of fact, there always _has_ been a man to stand between you and the +struggle!" he said. + +"I know. First P'pa, and now you!" Emelene mused happily. + +"I wasn't thinking of myself. I was thinking that your father left you a +comfortable income!" he said quickly. + +"And now you have asked me here; one of the dearest old places in town!" +Emelene added innocently. + +Genevieve listened in a stupefaction. This was married life, then? Not +since her childhood had Genevieve so longed to stamp, to scream, to +protest, to tear this twisted scheme apart and start anew! + +She was not a crying woman, but she wanted to cry now. She was not--she +told herself indignantly--quite a fool. But she felt that if George went +on being martyred, and mechanically polite, and grim, she would go into +hysterics. She had been married less than six weeks; that night she +cried herself to sleep. + +Her guests were as agreeable as their natures permitted; but Genevieve +was reduced, before the third day of their visit, to a condition of +continual tears. + +This was her home, this was the place sacred to George and herself, and +their love. Nobody in the world,--not his mother, not hers, had their +mothers been living!--was welcome here. She had planned to be such a +good wife to him, so thoughtful, so helpful, so brave when he must be +away. But she could not rise to the height of sharing him with other +women, and saying whatever she said to him in the hearing of witnesses. +And then she dared not complain too openly! That was an additional +hardship, for if George insulted his guests, then that horrid Penny-- + +Genevieve had always liked Penny, and had danced and flirted with him +aeons ago. She had actually told Betty that she hoped Betty would marry +Penny. But now she felt that she loathed him. He was secretly laughing +at George, at George who had dared to take a stand for old-fashioned +virtue and the purity of the home! + +It was all so unexpected, so hard. Women everywhere were talking about +George's article, and expected her to defend it! George, she could have +defended. But how could she talk about a subject upon which she was not +informed, in which, indeed, as she was rather fond of saying, she was +absolutely uninterested? + +George was changed, too. Something was worrying him; and it was hard on +the darling old boy to come home to Miss Emelene and the cat and Eleanor +and Alys, every night! Emelene adored him, of course, and Alys was +always interesting and vivacious, but--but it wasn't like coming home to +his own little Genevieve! + +The bride wept in secret, and grew nervous and timid in manner. Mrs. +Brewster-Smith, however, found this comprehensible enough, and one hot +summer afternoon Genevieve went into George's office with her lovely +head held high, her color quite gone, and her breath coming quickly with +indignation. [Illustration: It was hard on the darling old boy to come +home to Miss Emelene and the cat and Eleanor and Alys every night!] +"George--I don't care what we do, or where we go! But I can't stand it! +She said--she said--she told me--" + +Her husband was alone in his office, and Genevieve was now crying in his +arms. He patted her shoulder tenderly. + +"I'm so worried all the time about dinners, and Lottie's going, and that +child getting downstairs and letting in flies and licking the frosting +off the maple cake," sobbed Genevieve, "that of _course_ I show it! And +if I _have_ given up my gym work, it's just because I was so busy trying +to get some one in Lottie's place! And now they say--they say--that +_they_ know what the matter is, and that I mustn't dance or play +golf--the horrible, spying cats! I won't go back, George, I will not! +I--" + +Again George was wonderful. He put his arm about her, and she sat +down on the edge of his desk, and leaned against that dear protective +shoulder and dried her eyes on one of his monogrammed handkerchiefs. He +reminded her of a long-standing engagement for this evening with Betty +and Penny, to go out to Sea Light and have dinner and a swim, and drive +home in the moonlight. And when she was quiet again, he said tenderly: + +"You mustn't let the 'cats' worry you, Pussy. What they think isn't +true, and I don't blame you for getting cross! But in one way, dear, +aren't they right? Hasn't my little girl been riding and driving and +dancing a little too hard? Is it the wisest thing, just now? You have +been nervous lately, dear, and excitable. Mightn't there be a reason? +Because I don't have to tell you, sweetheart, nothing would make me +prouder, and Uncle Martin, of course, has made no secret of how _he_ +feels! You wouldn't be sorry, dear?" + +Genevieve had always loved children deeply. Long before this her +happy dreams had peopled the old house in Sheridan Road with handsome, +dark-eyed girls, and bright-eyed boys like their father. + +But, to her own intense astonishment, she found this speech from her +husband distasteful. George would be "proud," and Uncle Martin pleased. +But it suddenly occurred to Genevieve that neither George nor Uncle +Martin would be tearful and nervous. Neither George nor Uncle Martin +need eschew golf and riding and dancing. To be sick, when she had always +been so well! To face death, for which she had always had so healthy a +horror! Cousin Alex had died when her baby came, and Lois Farwell had +never been well after the fourth Farwell baby made his appearance. + +Genevieve's tears died as if from flame. She gently put aside the +sustaining arm, and went to the little mirror on the wall, to straighten +her hat. She remembered buying this hat, a few weeks ago, in the +ecstatic last days of the old life. + +"We needn't talk of that yet, George," she said quietly. + +She could see George's grieved look, in the mirror. There was a short +silence in the office. + +Then Betty Sheridan, cool in pongee, came briskly in. + +"Hello, Jinny!" said she. "Had you forgotten our plan tonight? +You're chaperoning me, I hope you realize! I'm rather difficile, too. +Genevieve, Pudge is outside; he'll take you out and buy you something +cold. I took him to lunch today. It was disgraceful! Except for a +frightful-looking mess called German Pot Roast With Carrots and Noodles +Sixty, he ate nothing but melon, lemon-meringue pie, and pineapple +special. I was absolutely ashamed! George, I would have speech with +you." + +"Private business, Betty?" he asked pleasantly. "My wife may not have +the vote, but I trust her with all my affairs!" + +"Indeed, I'm not in the least interested!" Genevieve said saucily. + +She knew George was pleased with her as she went happily away. + +"It's just as well Jinny went," said Betty, when she and the +district-attorney-elect were alone. "Because it's that old bore Colonel +Jaynes! He's come again, and he says he _will_ see you!" + +Deep red rose in George's handsome face. + +"He came here last week, and he came yesterday," Betty said, sitting +down, "and really I think you should see him! You see, George, in that +far-famed article of yours, you remarked that 'a veteran of the civil +as well as the Spanish war' had told you that it was the restless +outbreaking of a few northern women that helped to precipitate the +national catastrophe, and he wants to know if you meant him!" + +"I named no names!" George said, with dignity, yet uneasily, too. + +"I know you didn't. But you see we haven't many veterans of _both_ +wars," Betty went on, pleasantly. "And of course old Mrs. Jaynes is a +rabid suffragist, and she is simply hopping. He's a mild old man, +you know, and evidently he wants to square things with 'Mother.' Now, +George, who _did_ you mean?" + +"A statement like that may be made in a general sense," George remarked, +after scowling thought. + +"You might have made the statement on your own hook," Betty conceded, +"but when you mention an anonymous Colonel, of course they all sit up! +He says that he's going to get a signed statement from you that _he_ +never said that, and publish it!" + +"Ridiculous!" said George. + +"Then here are two letters," Betty pursued. "One is from the +corresponding secretary of the Women's Non-partisan Pacific Coast +Association. She says that they would be glad to hear from you regarding +your statement that equal suffrage, in the western states, is an +acknowledged failure." + +"She'll wait!" George predicted grimly. + +"Yes, I suppose so. But she's written to our Mrs. Herrington here, +asking her to follow up the matter. George, dear," asked Betty +maternally, "_why_ did you do it? Why couldn't you let well enough +alone!" + +"What's your other letter?" asked George. + +"It's just from Mr. Riker, of the _Sentinel_, George. He wants you to +drop in. It seems that they want a correction on one of your statistics +about the number of workingwomen in the United States who don't want +the vote. He says it only wants a signed line from you that you were +mistaken--" + +Refusing to see Colonel Jaynes, or to answer the Colonel's letter, +George curtly telephoned the editor of the _Sentinel_, and walked home +at four o'clock, his cheeks still burning, his mind in a whirl. Big +issues should have been absorbing him: and his mind was pestered instead +with these midges of the despised cause. Well, it was all in the day's +work-- + +And here was his sweet, devoted wife, fluttering across the hall, as +cool as a rose, in her pink and white. And she had packed his things, +in case they wanted to spend the night at Sea Light, and the "cats" had +gone off for library books, and he must have some ginger-ale, before it +was time to go for Betty and Penny. + +The day was perfection. The motor-car purred like a racing tiger under +George's gloved hand. Betty and Penny were waiting, and the three young +persons forgot all differences, and laughed and chatted in the old happy +way, as they prepared for the start. But Betty was carrying a book: +_Catherine of Russia_. + +"Do you know why suffragists should make an especial study of queens, +George?" she asked, as she and Penny settled themselves on the back +seat. + +"Well, I'll be interlocutor," George smiled, glancing up at the house, +from which his wife might issue at any moment. "Why should suffragists +read the lives of queens, Miss Bones?" + +"Because queens are absolutely the only women in all history who had +equal rights!" Betty answered impassively. "Do you realize that? The +only women whose moral and social and political instincts had full +sway!" + +"And a sweet use they made of them, sometimes!" said George. + +"And who were the great rulers," pursued Betty. "Whose name in English +history is like the names of Elizabeth and Victoria, or Matilda or Mary, +for the matter of that? Who mended and conserved and built up what the +kings tore down and wasted? Who made Russia an intellectual power--" + +Again Penny had an odd sense of fear. Were women perhaps superior to +men, after all! + +"I don't think Catherine of Russia is a woman to whom a lady can point +with pride," George said conclusively. Genevieve, who had appeared, shot +Betty a triumphant glance as they started. Pudge waved to them from the +candy store at the corner. + +"There's a new candy store every week!" said Penny, shuddering. "Heaven +help that poor boy; it must be in the blood!" + +"Women must always have something sweet to nibble," George said, leaning +back. "The United States took in two millions last year in gum alone!" + +"Men chew gum!" suggested Betty. + +"But come now, Betty, be fair!" George said. "Which sex eats more +candy?" + +"Well, I suppose women do," she admitted. + +"You count the candy stores, down Main Street," George went on, "and ask +yourself how it is that these people can pay rents and salaries just on +candy,--nothing else. Did you ever think of that?" + +"Well, I could vote with a chocolate in my mouth!" Betty muttered +mutinously, as the car turned into the afternoon peace of the main +thoroughfare. + +"You count them on your side, Penny, and I will on mine!" Genevieve +suggested. "All down the street." "Well, wait--we've passed two!" Penny +said excitedly. + +"Go on; there's three. That grocery store with candy in the window!" + +"Groceries don't count!" objected Betty. + +"Oh, they do, too! And drug stores.... Every place that sells candy!" + +"Drug stores and groceries and fruit stores only count half a point," +Betty stipulated. "Because they sell other things!" + +"That's fair enough," George conceded here, with a nod. + +Genevieve and Penny almost fell out of the car in their anxiety not +to miss a point, and George quite deliberately lingered on the +cross-streets, so that the damning total might be increased. + +Laughing and breathless, they came to the bridge that led from the town +to the open fields, and took the count. + +"One hundred and two and a half!" shouted Penny and Geneviève +triumphantly. George smiled over his wheel. + +"Oh, women, women!" he said. "One hundred and sixty-one!" said Betty. +There was a shout of protest. + +"Oh, Betty Sheridan! You didn't! Why, we didn't miss _one_!" + +"I wasn't counting candy stores," smiled Betty. "Just to be different, +I counted cigar stores and saloons. But it doesn't signify much either +way, does it, George?" + + + + +CHAPTER VI. BY HENRY KITCHELL WEBSTER + + +Of the quartette who, an hour later, emerged from the bath-houses +and scampered across the satiny beech into a discreetly playful surf, +Genevieve was the one real swimmer. She was better even than Penny, and +she left Betty and George nowhere. + +She had an endless repertory of amphibious stunts which she performed +with gusto, and in the intervals she took an equal satisfaction in +watching Penny's heroic but generally disastrous attempts to imitate +them. + +The other two splashed around aimlessly and now and then remonstrated. + +Now, it's all very well to talk about two hearts beating as one, and +in the accepted poetical sense of the words, of course Genevieve's and +George's did. But as a matter of physiological fact, they didn't. At the +end of twenty minutes or so George began turning a delicate blue and a +clatter as of distant castanets provided an obligato when he spoke, the +same being performed by George's teeth. + +The person who made these observations was Betty. + +"You'd better go out," she said. "You're freezing." + +It ought to have been Genevieve who said it, of course, though the fact +that she was under water more than half the time might be advanced as +her excuse for failing to say it. But who could venture to excuse the +downright callous way in which she exclaimed, "Already? Why we've just +got in! Come along and dive through that wave. That'll warm you up!" + +It was plain to George that she didn't care whether he was cold or not. +And, though the idea wouldn't quite go into words, it was also clear to +him that an ideal wife--a really womanly wife--would have turned blue +just a little before he began to. + +"Thanks," he said, in a cold blue voice that matched the color of his +finger nails. "I think I've had enough." + +Betty came splashing along beside him. + +"I'm going out, too," she said. "We'll leave these porpoises to their +innocent play." + +This was almost pure amiability, because she wasn't cold, and she'd been +having a pretty good time. Her other (practically negligible) motive +was that Penny might be reminded, by her withdrawal, of his forgotten +promise to teach her to float--and be sorry. Altogether, George would +have been showing only a natural and reasonable sense of his obligations +if he'd brightened up and flirted with her a little, instead of glooming +out to sea the way he did, paying simply no attention to her at all. So +at last she pricked him. + +"Isn't it funny," she said, "the really blighting contempt that swimmers +feel for people who can't feel at home in the water--people who gasp and +shiver and keep their heads dry?" + +She could see that, in one way, this remark had done George good. It +helped warm him up. Leaning back on her hands, as she did, she could see +the red come up the back of his neck and spread into his ears. But it +didn't make him conversationally any more exciting. He merely grunted. +So she tried again. + +"I suppose," she said dreamily, "that the myth about mermaids must +be founded in fact. Or is it sirens I'm thinking about? Perfectly +fascinating, irresistible women, who lure men farther and farther out, +in the hope of a kiss or something, until they get exhausted and drown. +I'll really be glad when Penny gets back alive." + +"And I shall be very glad," said George, trying hard for a tone of +condescending indifference appropriate for use with one who has played +dolls with one's little sister, "I shall really be very glad when you +make up your mind what you are going to do with Penny. He's just about +a total loss down at the office as it is, and he's getting a worse idiot +from day to day. And the worst of it is, I imagine you know all the +while what you're going to do about it--whether you're going to take him +or not." + +The girl flushed at that. He was being almost too outrageously rude, +even for George. But before she said anything to that effect, she +thought of something better. + +"I shall never marry any man," she said very intensely, "whose heart +is not with the Cause. You know what Cause I mean, George--the Suffrage +Cause. When I see thoughtless girls handing over their whole lives to +men who..." + +It sounded like the beginning of an oration. + +"Good Lord!" her victim cried. "Isn't there anything else than that to +talk about--_ever_?" + +"But just think how lucky you are, George," she said, "that at home they +all think exactly as you do!" + +He jumped up. Evidently this reminder of the purring acquiescences of +Cousin Emelene and Mrs. Brewster-Smith laid no balm upon his harassed +spirit. + +"You may leave my home alone, if you please." + +He was frightfully annoyed, of course, or he wouldn't have said anything +as crude as that. In a last attempt to recover his scattered dignity, +he caught at his office manner. "By the way," he said, "you forgot +to remind me today to write a letter to that Eliot woman about Mrs. +Brewster-Smith's cottages." + +With that he stalked away to dress. Genevieve and Penny, now shoreward +bound, hailed him. But it wasn't quite impossible to pretend he didn't +hear, and he did it. + +The dinner afterward at the Sea Light Inn was a rather gloomy affair. +George's lonely grandeur was only made the worse, it seemed, by +Genevieve's belated concern lest he might have taken cold through not +having gone and dressed directly he came out of the water. Genevieve +then turned very frosty to Penny, having decided suddenly that it was +all his fault. + +As for Betty, though she was as amiable a little soul as breathed, she +didn't see why she should make any particular effort to console Penny, +just because his little flirtation with Genevieve had stopped with a +bump. + +Even the ride home in the moonlight didn't help much. Genevieve sat +beside George on the front seat, and between them there stretched a +tense, tragic silence. In the back seat with Penfield Evans, and in the +intervals of frustrating his attempts to hold her hand, Betty considered +how frightfully silly young married couples could be over microscopic +differences. + +But Betty was wrong here and the married pair on the front seat were +right. + +Just reflect for a minute what Genevieve's George was. He was her +knight, her Bayard, her thoroughly Tennysonian King Arthur. The basis of +her adoration was that he should remain like that. You can see then +what a staggering experience it was to have caught herself, even for a +minute, in the act of smiling over him as sulky and absurd. + +And think of George's Genevieve! A saint enshrined, that his soul could +profitably bow down before whenever it had leisure to escape from the +activities of a wicked world. Fancy his horror over the mere suspicion +that she could be indifferent to his wishes--his comfort--even his +health, because of a mere tomboy flirtation with a man who could swim +better than he could! Most women were like that, he knew--vain, shallow, +inconstant creatures! But was not his pearl an exception? It was +horrible to have to doubt it. + +By three o'clock the next morning, after many tears and much grave +discourse, they succeeded in getting these doubts to sleep--killing +them, they'd have said, beyond the possibility of resurrection. It was +the others who had made all the trouble. If only they could have the +world to themselves--no Cousin Emelene, no Alys Brewster-Smith, no +Penfield Evans and Betty Sheridan, with their frivolity and low ideals, +to complicate things! An Arcadian Island in some Aeonian Sea. + +"Well," he said hopefully, "our home can be like that. It shall be like +that, when we get rid of Alys and her horrible little girl, and Cousin +Emelene and her unspeakable cat. It shall be our world; and no troubles +or cares or worries shall ever get in there!" + +She acquiesced in this prophecy, but even as she did so, cuddling her +face against his own, a low-down, unworthy spook, whose existence in +her he must never suspect, said audibly in her inner ear, "Much he knows +about it!" Betty did not forget to remind George of the letter he was +to write to Miss Eliot about taking over the agency of Mrs. +Brewster-Smith's cottages. In the composition of this letter George +washed his hands of responsibility with, you might say, antiseptic care. + +He had taken pleasure in recommending Miss Eliot, he explained, and Mrs. +Brewster-Smith was acting on his recommendation. Any questions arising +out of the management of the property should be taken up directly with +her client. Miss Eliot would have no difficulty in understanding that +the enormous pressure of work which now beset him precluded him from +having anything more to do with the matter. + +The letter was typed and inclosed in a big linen envelope, with the mess +of papers Alys had dumped upon his desk a few days previously, and it +was despatched forthwith by the office boy. + +"There," said George on a note of grim satisfaction, "that's done!" + +The grimness lasted, but the satisfaction did not. Or only until +the return of the office boy, half an hour later, with the identical +envelope and a three-line typewritten note from Miss Eliot. She was +sorry to say, she wrote, that she did not consider it advisable to +undertake the agency for the property in question. Thanking him, +nevertheless, for his courtesy, she was his very truly, E. Eliot. + +George summoned Betty by means of the buzzer, and asked her, with icy +indignation, what she thought of that. But, as he was visibly bursting +with impatience to say what _he_ thought of it, she gave him the +opportunity. + +"I thought you advanced women," he said, "were supposed to stand by each +other--stand by all women--try to make things better for them. One for +all--all for one. That sort of thing. But it really works the other way. +It's just because a woman owns those cottages that Miss Eliot won't have +anything to do with them. She knows that women are unreasonable and hard +to get on with in business matters, so she passes the buck! Back to a +man, if you please, who hasn't any more real responsibility for it than +she has." + +There was, of course, an obvious retort to this; namely, that business +was business, and that a business woman had the same privilege a +business man had, of declining a job that looked as if it would entail +more bother than it was worth. But Betty couldn't quite bring herself +to take this line. Women, if they could ever get the chance (through +the vote and in other ways), were going to make the world a better +place--run it on a better lot of ideals. It wouldn't do to begin +justifying women on the ground that they were only doing what men did. +As well abandon the whole crusade right at the beginning. + +George saw her looking rather thoughtful, and pressed his advantage. +Suppose Betty went and saw Miss Eliot personally, sometime today, and +urged her to reconsider. The business didn't amount to much, it was +true, and it no doubt involved the adjustment of some troublesome +details. But unless Miss Eliot would undertake it, he wouldn't know just +where to turn. Alys had quarreled with Allen, and Sampson was a skate. +And perhaps a little plain talk to Alys about the condition of the +cottages--"from one of her own sex," George said this darkly and looked +away out of the window at the time--might be productive of good. + +"All right," Betty agreed, "I'll see what I can do. It's kind of hard to +go to a woman you barely know by sight, and talk to her about her duty, +but I guess I'm game. If you can spare me, I'll go now and get it over +with." + +There were no frills about Edith Eliot's real estate office, though the +air of it was comfortably busy and prosperous. + +The place had once been a store. An architect's presentation of an +apartment building, now rather dusty, occupied the show-window. There +was desk accommodation for two or three of those bright young men who +make a selection of keys and take people about to look at houses; there +was a stenographer's desk with a stenographer sitting at it; and back +of a table in the corner, in the attitude of one making herself as +comfortable as the heat of the day would permit, while she scowled over +a voluminous typewritten document, was E. Eliot herself. It was almost +superfluous to mention that her name was Edith. She never signed it, and +there was no one, in Whitewater anyway, who called her by it. + +She was a big-boned young woman (that is, if you call the middle +thirties young), with an intelligent, homely face, which probably got +the attraction some people surprisingly found in it from the fact that +she thought nothing about its looks one way or the other. It was rather +red when Betty came in, and she was making it rapidly redder with the +vigorous ministrations of a man's-size handkerchief. + +She greeted Betty with a cordial "how-de-doo," motioned her to the other +chair at the table (Betty had a fleeting wish that she might have dusted +it before she sat down), and asked what she could do for her. + +"I'm from Mr. Remington's office," Betty said, "Remington and Evans. +He wrote you a note this morning about some cottages that belong to a +cousin of his, Mrs. Brewster-Smith." + +"I answered that note by his own messenger," said E. Eliot. "He should +have got the reply before this." "Oh, he got it," said Betty, "and +was rather upset about it. What I've come for, is to urge you to +reconsider." + +E. Eliot smiled rather grimly at her blotting-pad, looked up at Betty, +and allowed her smile to change its quality. What she said was not +what she had meant to say before she looked up. E. Eliot was always +upbraiding herself for being sentimental about youth and beauty in her +own sex. She'd never been beautiful, and she'd never been young--not +young like Betty. But the upbraidings never did any good. + +She said: "I thought I had considered sufficiently when I answered Mr. +Remington's note. But it's possible I hadn't. What is it you think I may +have overlooked?" + +"Why," said Betty, "George thought the reason you wouldn't take the +cottages was because a woman owned them. He used it as a sort of example +of how women wouldn't stick together. He said that you probably knew +that women were unreasonable and hard to deal with and didn't want the +bother." + +It disconcerted Betty a little that E. Eliot interposed no denial at +this point, though she'd paused to give her the opportunity. + +"You see," she went on a little breathlessly, "I'm for women suffrage +and economic independence and all that. I think it's perfectly wonderful +that you should be doing what you are--showing that women can be just +as successful in business as men can. Of course I know that you've got +a perfect _right_ to do just what a man would do--refuse to take a piece +of business that wasn't worth while. But--but what we hope is, and what +we want to show men is, that when women get into politics and business +they'll be better and less selfish." + +"Which do you mean will be better?" E. Eliot inquired. "The politics and +the business, or the women?" + +"I mean the politics and the business," Betty told her rather frostily. +Was the woman merely making fun of her? + +E. Eliot caught the note. "I meant my question seriously," she said. "It +has a certain importance. But I didn't mean to interrupt you. Go ahead." +"Well," Betty said, "that's about all. George--Mr. Remington--that +is--is running for district attorney, and he has come out against +suffrage as you know. I thought perhaps this was a chance to convert +him a little. It would be a great favor to him, anyway, if you took +the cottages; because he doesn't know whom to turn to, if you won't. I +didn't come to try to tell you what your duty is, but I thought perhaps +you hadn't just looked at it that way." + +"All right," said E. Eliot. "Now I'll tell you how I do look at it. In +the first place, about doing business for women. It all depends on the +woman you're doing business with. If she's had the business training +of a man, she's as easy to deal with as a man. If she's never had any +business training at all, if business doesn't mean anything to her +except some vague hocus-pocus that produces her income, then she's seven +kinds of a Tartar. + +"She has no more notion about what she has a right to expect from other +people, or what they've a right to expect from her, than a white Angora +cat. Of course, the majority of women who have property to attend to +have had it dumped on their hands in middle life, or after, by the wills +of loving husbands. Those women, I'll say frankly, are the devil and all +to deal with. But it's their husbands' and fathers' fault, and not their +own. Anyhow, that isn't the reason I wouldn't take those cottages. + +"It was the cottages themselves, and not the woman who owned them, that +decided me. That whole Kentwood district is a disgrace to civilization. +The sanitary conditions are filthy; have been for years. The owners have +been resisting condemnation proceedings right along, on the ground +that the houses brought in so little rental that it would be practical +confiscation to compel them to make any improvements. Now, since the +war boon struck the mills, and every place with four walls and a roof is +full, they're saying they can't afford to make any change because of the +frightful loss they'd suffer in potential profits. + +"Well, when you agree to act as a person's agent, you've got to act in +that person's interest; and when it's a question of the interest of the +owners of those Kentwood cottages, whether they're men or women, my idea +was that I didn't care for the job." + +"I think you're perfectly right about it," Betty said. "I wouldn't +have come to urge you to change your mind, if I had understood what the +situation was. But," here she held out her hand, "I'm glad I did come, +and I wish we might meet again sometime and get acquainted and talk +about things." + +"No time like the present," said E. Eliot. "Sit down again, if you've +got a minute." She added, as Betty dropped back into her chair, "You're +Elizabeth Sheridan, aren't you?--Judge Sheridan's daughter? And you're +working as a stenographer for Remington and Evans?" + +Betty nodded and stammered out the beginning of an apology for not +having introduced herself earlier. But the older woman waved this aside. + +"What I really want to know," she went on, "if it isn't too outrageous +a question, is what on earth you're doing it for--working in that law +office, I mean?" + +It was a question Betty was well accustomed to answering. But coming +from this source, it surprised her into a speechless stare. + +"Why," she said at last, "I do it because I believe in economic +independence for women. Don't you? But of course you do." + +"I don't know," said E. Eliot. "I believe in food and clothes, and money +to pay the rent, and the only way I have ever found of having those +things was to get out and earn them. But if ever I make money enough to +give me an independent income half the size of what yours must be, I'll +retire from business in short order." + +"Do you know," said Betty, "I don't believe you would. I think you're +mistaken. I don't believe a woman like you could live without working." + +"I didn't say I'd quit working," said E. Eliot. "I said I'd quit +business. That's another thing. There's plenty of real work in the world +that won't earn you a living. Lord! Don't I see it going by right here +in this office! There are things I just itch to get my hands into, and +I have to wait and tell myself 'some day, perhaps!' There's a thing I'd +like to do now, and that's to take a hand in this political campaign for +district attorney. It would kill my business deader than Pharaoh's aunt, +so I've got to let it go. But it would certainly put your friend George +Remington up a tall tree." + +"Oh, you're a suffragist, then?" Betty exclaimed eagerly. "I was +wondering about that. I've never seen you at any of our meetings." + +"I'm a suffragist, all right," said E. Eliot, "but as your meetings are +mostly held in the afternoons, when I'm pretty busy, I haven't been able +to get 'round. + +"I'm curious about Remington," she went on. "I've known him a little, +for years. When I worked for Allen, I used to see him quite often in the +office. And I'd always rather liked him. So that I was surprised, clear +down to the ground, when I read that statement of his in the _Sentinel_. +I'd never thought he was _that_ sort. And from the fact that you work in +his office and like him well enough to call him George one might almost +suppose he wasn't." + +Clearly Betty was puzzled. "Of course," she said, "I think his views +about women are obsolete and ridiculous. But I don't see what they've +got to do with liking him or not, personally." + +E. Eliot's smile became grim again, but she said nothing, so Betty asked +a direct question. + +"That was what you meant, wasn't it?" + +"Yes," the other woman said, "that was what I meant. Why, if you don't +mind plain speaking, it's been my observation that the sort of men +who think the world is too indecent for decent women to go out into, +generally have their own reasons for knowing how indecent it is; and +that when they spring a line of talk like that, they're being sickening +hypocrites into the bargain." + +Betty's face had gone flame color. + +"George isn't like that at all," she said. "He's--he's really fine. He's +old-fashioned and sentimental about women, but he isn't a hypocrite. He +really means those things he says. Why..." + +And then Betty went on to tell her new friend about Cousin Emelene and +Alys Brewster-Smith, and how George, though he writhed, had stood the +gaff. + +"A grown-up man," E. Eliot summed up, "who honestly believes that women +are made of something fine and fragile, and that they ought to be kept +where even the wind can't blow upon them! But good heavens, child, if +he really means that, it makes it all the better for what I was thinking +of. You don't understand, of course. I hadn't meant to tell you, but +I've changed my mind. + +"Listen now. That statement in the _Sentinel_ has set the town talking, +of course, and stirred up a lot of feeling, for and against suffrage. +But what it would be worth as an issue to go to the mat with on election +day, is exactly nothing at all. You go out and ask a voter to +vote against a candidate for district attorney because he's an +anti-suffragist, and he'll say, 'What difference does it make? It isn't +up to him to give women the vote. It doesn't matter to me what his +private opinions are, as long as he makes a good district attorney!' But +there is an issue that we _can_ go to the mat with, and so far it hasn't +been raised at all. There hasn't been a peep." She reached over and laid +a hand on Betty's arm. + +"Do you know what the fire protection laws for factories are? And do you +know that it's against the law for women to work in factories at night? +Well, and do you know what the conditions are in every big mill in this +town? With this boom in war orders, they've simply taken off the lid. +Anything goes. The fire and building ordinances are disregarded, and for +six months the mills have been running a night shift as well as a day +shift, on Sundays and week-days, and three-quarters of their operatives +are women. Those women go to work at seven o'clock at night, and quit at +six in the morning; and they have an hour off from twelve to one in the +middle of the night. + +"Now do you see? It's up to the district attorney to enforce the law. +Isn't it fair to ask this defender of the home whether he believes that +women should be home at night or not, and if he does, what he's going +to do about it? Talk about slogans! The situation bristles with them! +We could placard this town with a lot of big black-faced questions that +would make it the hottest place for George Remington that he ever found +himself in. + +"Well, it would be pretty good campaign work if he was the hypocrite +I took him to be, from his stuff in the _Sentinel_. But if he's on the +level, as you think he is, there's a chance--don't you see there's a +chance that he'd come out flat-footed for the enforcement of the law? +And if he did!... Child, can you see what would happen if he _did_?" + +Betty's eyes were shining like a pair of big sapphires. When she spoke, +it was in a whisper like an excited child. + +"I can see a little," she said. "I think I can see. But tell me." + +"In the first place," said E. Eliot, "see whom he'd have against him. +There'd be the best people, to start with. Most of them are stockholders +in the mills. Why, you must be, yourself, in the Jaffry-Bradshaw +Company! Your father was, anyway." + +Betty nodded. + +"You want to be sure you know what it means," the older woman went on. +"This thing might cut into your dividends, if it went through." + +"I hope it will," said Betty fiercely. "I never realized before that my +money was earned like that--by women, girls of my age, standing over a +machine all night." She shivered. "And there are some of us, I'm sure," +she went on, "who would feel the way I do about it." + +"Well,--some," E. Eliot admitted. "Not many, though. And then there are +the merchants. These are great times for them--town crammed with people, +all making money, and buying right and left. And then there's the labor +vote itself! A lot of laboring men would be against him. Their women +just now are earning as much as they are. There are a lot of these +men--whatever they might say--who'd take good care not to vote for a man +who would prevent their daughters from bringing in the fifteen, twenty, +or twenty-five dollars a week they get for that night work. + +"Well, and who would be with him? Why, the women themselves. The one +chance on earth he'd have for election would be to have the women +organized and working for him, bringing every ounce of influence they +had to bear on their men--on all the men they knew. + +"Mind you, I don't believe he could win at that. But, win or lose, he'd +have done something. He'd have shown the women that they needed the +vote, and he'd have found out for himself--he and the other men who +believe in fair human treatment for everybody--that they can't secure +that treatment without women's votes. That's the real issue. It isn't +that women are better than men, or that they could run the world +better if they got the chance. It's that men and women have got to work +together to do the things that need doing." + +"You're perfectly wonderful," said Betty, and sat thereafter, for +perhaps a minute and a half, in an entranced silence. + +Then, with a shake of the head, a straightening of the spine, and a +good, deep, business-like preliminary breath, she turned to her new +friend and said, "Well, shall we do it?" + +This time it was E. Eliot's turn to gasp. + +She hadn't expected to have a course of action put up to her in that +instantaneous and almost casual manner. She wasn't young like Betty. +She'd been working hard ever since she was seventeen years old. She'd +succeeded, in a way, to be sure. But her success had taught her how hard +success is to obtain. She saw much farther into the consequences of +the proposed campaign than Betty could see. She realized the bitter +animosity that it would provoke. She knew it was well within the +probabilities that her business would be ruined by it. + +She sat there silent for a while, her face getting grimmer and grimmer +all the time. But she turned at last and looked into the eager face of +the girl beside her, and she smiled,--though even the smile was grim. + +"All right," she said, holding out her hand to bind the bargain. "We'll +start and we'll stick. And here's hoping! We'd better lunch together, +hadn't we?" + + + + +CHAPTER VII. BY ANNE O'HAGAN + + +Mr. Benjamin Doolittle, by profession White-water's leading furniture +dealer and funeral director, and by the accident of political fortune +the manager of Mr. George Remington's campaign, sat in his candidate's +private office, and from time to time restrained himself from hasty +speech by the diplomatic and dexterous use of a quid of tobacco. + +He found it difficult to preserve his philosophy in the face of George +Remington's agitation over the woman's suffrage issue. + +"It's the last time," he had frequently informed his political cronies +since the opening of the campaign, "that I'll wet-nurse a new-fledged +candidate. They've got at least to have their milk teeth through if they +want Benjamin Doolittle after this." To George, itchingly aware through +all his rasped nerves of Mrs. Herrington's letter in that morning's +_Sentinel_ asking him to refute, if he could, an abominable half column +of statistics in regard to legislation in the Woman Suffrage States, the +furniture dealer was drawling pacifically: + +"Now, George, you made a mistake in letting the women get your goat. +Don't pay no attention to them. Of course their game's fair enough. I +will say that you gave them their opening; stood yourself for a target +with that statement of yours. Howsomever, you ain't obligated to keep on +acting as the nigger head in the shooting gallery. + +"Let 'em write; let 'em ask questions in the papers; let 'em heckle you +on the stump. All that you've got to say is that you've expressed your +personal convictions already, and that you've stood by those convictions +in your private life, and that as you ain't up for legislator, the +question don't really concern your candidacy. And that, as you're +running for district attorney, you will, with their kind permission, +proceed to the subjects that do concern you there--the condition of the +court calendar of Whitewater County, the prosecution of the racetrack +gamblers out at Erie Oval, and so forth, and so forth. + +"You laid yourself open, George, but you ain't obligated in law or +equity to keep on presenting yourself bare chest for their outrageous +slings and arrows." + +"Of course, what you say about their total irrelevancy is quite true," +said George, making the concession so that it had all the belligerency +of a challenge. "But of course I would never have consented to run for +office at the price of muzzling my convictions." + +Mr. Doolittle wearily agreed that that was more than could be expected +from any candidate of the high moral worth of George Remington. Then +he went over a list of places throughout the county where George was to +speak during the next week, and intimated dolefully that the committee +could use a little more money, if it had it. + +He expressed it thus: "A few more contributions wouldn't put any strain +to speak of on our pants' pockets. Anything more to be got out of Old +Martin Jaffry? Don't he realize that blood's thicker than water?" + +"I'll speak to him," growled George. + +He hated Mr. Benjamin Doolittle's colloquialisms, though once he had +declared them amusing, racy, of the soil, and had rebuked Genevieve's +fastidious criticisms of them on an occasion when she had interpreted +her rôle of helpmeet to include that of hostess to Mr. and Mrs. +Doolittle--oh, not in her own home, of course!--at luncheon, at the +Country Club! + +"Well, I guess that's about all for today." + +Mr. Doolittle brought the conference to a close, hoisting himself by +links from his chair. + +"It takes $3000 every time you circularize the constituency, you +know----" + +He lounged toward the window and looked out again upon the pleasant, +mellow scene around Fountain Square. And with the look his affectation +of bucolic calm dropped from him. He turned abruptly. + +"What's that going on at McMonigal's corner?" he demanded sharply. "I +don't know, I am sure," said George, with indifference, still bent upon +teaching his manager that he was a free and independent citizen, in +leading strings to no man. "It's been vacant since the fire in March, +when Petrosini's fish market and Miss Letterblair's hat st----" + +He had reached the window himself by this time, and the sentence was +destined to remain forever unfinished. + +From the low, old-fashioned brick building on the northeast corner of +Fountain Square, whose boarded eyes had stared blindly across toward the +glittering orbs of its towering neighbor, the Jaffry Building, for six +months, a series of great placards flared. + +Planks had been removed from the windows, plate glass restored, and +behind it he read in damnable irritation: + +"SOME QUESTIONS FOR CANDIDATE REMINGTON." + +A foot high, an inch broad, black as Erebus, the letters shouted at him +against an orange background. Every window of the second story contained +a placard. On the first story, in the show window where Petrosini had +been wont to ravish epicurean eyes by shad and red snapper, perch and +trout, cunningly imbedded in ice blocks upon a marble slab--in that +window, framed now in the hated orange and black, stood a woman. + +She was turning backward, for the benefit of onlookers who pressed close +to the glass, the leaves of a mammoth pad resting upon an easel. + +From their point of vantage in the second story of the Jaffry Building, +the candidate and his manager could see that each sheet bore that horrid +headline: + +"QUESTIONS FOR CANDIDATE REMINGTON." + +The whole population of White water, it seemed to George, was crowded +about that corner. + +"I'll be back in a minute," said Benjie Doolittle, disappearing through +the private office door with the black tails of his coat achieving +a true horizontal behind him. As statesman and as undertaker, Mr. +Doolittle never swerved from the garment which keeps green the memory of +the late Prince Consort. + +As the door opened, the much-tried George Remington had a glimpse of +that pleasing industrial unit, Betty Sheridan, searching through the +file for the copy of the letter to the Cummunipaw Steel Works, which +he had recently demanded to see. He pressed the buzzer imperiously, and +Betty responded with duteous haste. He pointed through the window to the +crowd in front of McMonigal's block. + +"Perhaps," he said, with what seemed to him Spartan self-restraint, +"_you_ can explain the meaning of that scene." + +Betty looked out with an air of intelligent interest. + +"Oh yes!" she said vivaciously. "I think I can. It's a Voiceless +Speech." + +"A voice l--" George's own face was a voiceless speech as he repeated +two syllables of his stenographer's explanation. + +"Yes. Don't you know about voiceless speeches? It's antiquated to try to +run any sort of a campaign without them nowadays." + +"Perhaps you also know who that--female--" again George's power of +utterance failed him. Betty came closer to the window and peered out. + +"It's Frances Herrington who is turning the leaves now," she said +amiably. "I know her by that ducky toque." + +"Frances Herrington! What Harvey Herrington is thinking of to allow----" +George's emotion constrained him to broken utterance. "And we're +dining there tonight! She has no sense of the decencies--the--the--the +hospitality of existence. We won't go--I'll telephone Genevieve----" + +"Fie, fie Georgie!" observed Betty. "Why be personal over a mere detail +of a political campaign?" + +But before George could tell her why his indignation against his +prospective hostess was impersonal and unemotional, the long figure of +Mr. Doolittle again projected itself upon the scene. + +Betty effaced herself, gliding from the inner office, and George turned +a look of inquiry upon his manager. + +"Well?" the monosyllable had all the force of profanity. + +"Well, the women, durn them, have brought suffrage into your campaign." + +"How?" + +"How? They've got a list of every blamed law on the statute books +relating to women and children, and they're asking on that sheet of +leaves over there, if you mean to proceed against all who are breaking +those laws here in Whitewater County. And right opposite your own +office! It's--it's damn smart. You ought to have got that Herrington +woman on your committee." + +"It's indelicate, unwomanly, indecent. It shows into what unsexed +degradation politics will drag woman. But I'm relieved that that's all +they're asking. Of course, I shall enforce the law for the protection of +every class in our community with all the power of the----" + +"Oh, shucks! There's nobody here but me--you needn't unfurl Old Glory," +counseled Mr. Doolittle, a trifle impatiently. "They're asking real +questions, not blowing off hot-air. Oh, I say, who owns McMonigal's +block since the old man died? We'll have the owner stop this circus. +That's the first thing to do." + +"I'll telephone Allen. He'll know." + +Allen's office was very obliging and would report on the ownership on +McMonigal's block in ten minutes. + +Mr. Doolittle employed the interval in repeating to George some of the +"Questions for Candidate Remington," illegible from George's desk. + +"You believe that 'WOMAN'S PLACE IS IN THE HOME.' Will you enforce the +law against woman's night work in the factories? Over nine hundred women +of Whitewater County are doing night work in the munition plants of +Airport, Whitewater and Ondegonk. What do you mean to do about it?" + +"You 'DESIRE TO CONSERVE THE THREATENED FLOWER OF WOMANHOOD.'" + +A critical listener would have caught a note of ribald scorn in Mr. +Doolittle's drawl, as he quoted from his candidate's statement, via the +voiceless speech placards. + +"To conserve the threatened flower of womanhood, the grape canneries of +Omega and Onicrom Townships are employing children of five and six +years in defiance of the Child Labor Law of this State. Are you going to +proceed against them?" + +"'WOMAN IS MAN'S RAREST HERITAGE.' Do you think man ought to burn her +alive? Remember the Livingston Loomis-Ladd collar factory fire--fourteen +women killed, forty-eight maimed. In how many of the factories in +Whitewater, in which women work, are the fire laws obeyed? Do you mean +to enforce them?" + +The telephone interrupted Mr. Doolittle's hateful litany. + +Alien's bright young man begged to report that McMonigal's block was +held in fee simple by the widow of the late Michael McMonigal. + +Mr. Doolittle juggled the leaves of the telephone directory with the +dazzling swiftness of a Japanese ball thrower, and in a few seconds he +was speaking to the relict of the late Michael. + +George watched him with fevered eyes, listened with fevered ears. The +conversation, it was easy to gather, did not proceed as Mr. Doolittle +wished. + +"Oh! in entire charge--E. Eliot. Oh! In sympathy yourself. Oh, come now, +Mrs. McMonigal----" + +But Mrs. McMonigal did not come now. The campaign manager frowned as he +replaced the receiver. + +"Widow owns the place. That Eliot woman is the agent. The suffrage gang +has the owner's permission to use the building from now on to election. +She says she's in sympathy. Well, we'll have to think of something----" + +"It's easy enough," declared George. "I'll simply have a set of posters +printed answering their questions. And we'll engage sandwich men to +carry them in front of McMonigal's windows. Certainly I mean to enforce +the law. I'll give the order to the _Sentinel_ press now for the +answers--definite, dignified answers." "See here, George." Mr. Doolittle +interrupted him with unusual weightiness of manner. "It's too far along +in the campaign for you to go flying off on your own. You've got +to consult your managers. This is your first campaign; it's my +thirty-first. You've got to take advice----" + +"I will not be muzzled." + +"Shucks! Who wants to muzzle, anybody! But you can't say everything +that's inside of you, can you? There's got to be some choosing. We've +got to help you choose. + +"The silly questions the women are displaying over there--you can't +answer 'em in a word or in two words. This city is having a boom; every +valve factory in the valley, every needle and pin factory, is makin' +munitions today--valves and needles and pins all gone by the board for +the time being. Money's never been so plenty in Whitewater County +and this city is feelin' the benefits of it. People are buying +things--clothes, flour, furniture, victrolas, automobiles, rum. + +"There ain't a merchant of any description in this county but his +business is booming on account of the work in the factories. You can't +antagonize the whole population of the place. Why, I dare say, some of +your own money and Mrs. Remington's is earning three times what it was +two years ago. The First National Bank has just declared a fifteen +per cent. dividend, and Martin Jaffry owns fifty-four per cent. of the +stock. + +"You don't want to put brakes on prosperity. It ain't decent citizenship +to try it. It ain't neighborly. Think of the lean years we've known. You +can't do it. This war won't last forever--" Mr. Doolittle's voice was +tinged with regret--"and it will be time enough to go in for playing the +deuce with business when business gets slack again. That's the time for +reforms, George,--when things are dull." + +George was silent, the very presentment of a sorely harassed young man. +He had not, even in a year when blamelessness rather than experience +was his party's supreme need in a candidate, become its banner bearer +without possessing certain political apperceptions. He knew, as Benjie +Doolittle spoke, that Benjie spoke the truth--White-water city and +county would never elect a man who had too convincingly promised to +interfere with the prosperity of the city and county. + +"Better stick to the gambling out at Erie Oval, George," counseled the +campaign manager. "They're mostly New Yorkers that are interested in +that, anyway." + +"I'll not reply without due consideration and--er--notice," George +sullenly acceded to his manager and to necessity. But he hated both +Doolittle and necessity at the moment. + +That sun-bright vision of himself which so splendidly and sustainingly +companioned him, which spoke in his most sonorous periods, which so +completely and satisfyingly commanded the reverence of Genevieve--that +George Remington of his brave imaginings would not thus have answered +Benjamin Doolittle. + +Through the silence following the furniture man's departure, Betty, at +the typewriter, clicked upon Georgie's ears. An evil impulse assailed +him--impolitic, too, as he realized--impolitic but irresistible. It was +the easiest way in which candidate Remington, heckled by suffragists, +overridden by his campaign committee, mortifyingly tormented by a +feeling of inadequacy, could re-establish himself in his own esteem as a +man of prompt and righteous decisions. + +He might not be able to run his campaign to suit himself, but, by Jove, +his office was his own! + +He went into Betty's quarters and suggested to her that a due sense +of the eternal fitness of things would cause her to offer him her +resignation, which his own sense of the eternal fitness of things would +lead him at once to accept. + +It seemed, he said, highly indecorous of her to remain in the employ of +Remington and Evans the while she was busily engaged in trying to thwart +the ambitions of the senior partner. He marveled that woman's boasted +sensitiveness had not already led her to perceive this for herself. + +For a second, Betty seemed startled, even hurt. She colored deeply and +her eyes darkened. Then the flush of surprise and the wounded feeling +died. She looked at him blankly and asked how soon it would be possible +for him to replace her. She would leave as soon as he desired. + +In her bearing, so much quieter than usual, in the look in her face, +George read a whole volume. He read that up to this time, Betty had +regarded her presence in the ranks of his political enemies as she would +have regarded being opposed to him in a tennis match. He read that he, +with that biting little speech which he already wished unspoken, had +given her a sudden, sinister illumination upon the relations of working +women to their employers. + +He read the question in the back of her mind. Suppose (so it ran in his +constructive fancy) that instead of being a prosperous, protected young +woman playing the wage-earner more or less as Marie Antoinette had +played the milkmaid, she had been Mamie Riley across the hall, whose +work was bitter earnest, whose earnings were not pin-money, but bread +and meat and brother's schooling and mother's health--would George still +have made the stifling of her views the price of her position? + +And if George--George, the kind, friendly, clean-minded man would drive +that bargain, what bargain might not other men, less gentle, less noble, +drive? + +All this George's unhappily sensitized conscience read into Betty +Sheridan's look, even as the imp who urged him on bade him tell her that +she could leave at her own convenience; at once, if she pleased; the +supply of stenographers in Whitewater was adequately at demand. + +He rather wished that Penny Evans would come in; Penny would doubtless +take a high hand with him concerning the episode, and there was nothing +which George Remington would have welcomed like an antagonist of his own +size and sex. + +But Penny did not appear, and the afternoon passed draggingly for the +candidate for the district attorneyship. He tried to busy himself with +the affairs of his clients, but even when he could keep away from his +windows he was aware of the crowds in front of McMonigal's block, of +Frances Herrington, her "ducky" toque and her infernal voiceless speech. + +And when, for a second, he was able to forget these, he heard from the +outer office the unmistakable sounds of a desk being permanently cleared +of its present incumbent's belongings. + +After a while, Betty bade him a too courteous good-by, still with that +abominable new air of gravely readjusting her old impressions of him. +And then there was nothing to do but to go home and make ready for +dinner at the Herrington's, unless he could induce Genevieve to have an +opportune headache. + +Of course Betty had been right. Not upon his masculine shoulders should +there be laid the absurd burden of political chagrin strong enough to +break a social engagement. + +Genevieve was in her room. The library was given over to Alys +Brewster-Smith, Cousin Emelene Brand, two rusty callers and the +tea things. Before the drawing-room fire, Hanna slept in Maltese +proprietorship. George longed with passion to kick the cat. + +Genevieve, as he saw through the open door, sat by the window. She had, +it appeared, but recently come in. She still wore her hat and coat; she +had not even drawn off her gloves. And seeing her thus, absorbed in some +problem, George's sense of his wrongs grew greater. + +He had, he told himself, hurried home out of the jar and fret of a man's +day to find balm, to feel the cool fingers of peace pressed upon hot +eyelids, to drink strengthening draughts of refreshment from his wife's +unquestioning belief, from the completeness of her absorption in him. +And here she sat thinking of something else! + +Genevieve arose, a little startled as he snapped on the lights +and grunted out something which optimism might translate into an +affectionate husbandly greeting. She came dutifully forward and raised +her face, still exquisite and cool from the outer air, for her lord's +home-coming kiss. That resolved itself into a slovenly peck. + +"Been out?" asked George unnecessarily. He tried to quell the +unreasonable inclination to find her lacking in wifely devotion because +she had been out. + +"Yes. There was a meeting at the Woman's Forum this afternoon," she +answered. She was unpinning her hat before the pier glass, and in it +he could see the reflection of her eyes turned upon his image with a +questioning look. + +"The ladies seem to be having a busy day of it." + +He struggled not quite successfully to be facetious over the pretty, +negligible activities of his wife's sex. "What mighty theme engaged your +attention?" + +"That Miss Eliot--the real estate woman, you know--" George stiffened +into an attitude of close attention--"spoke about the conditions under +which women are working in the mills in this city and in the rest of the +county--" Genevieve averted her mirrored eyes from his mirrored face. +She moved toward her dressing-table. + +"Oh, she did! and is the Woman's Forum going to come to grips with +the industrial monster and bring in the millennium by the first of the +year?" + +But George was painfully aware that light banter which fails to be +convincingly light is but a snarl. + +Genevieve colored slightly as she studied the condition of a pair of +long white gloves which she had taken from a drawer. + +"Of course the Woman's Forum is only for discussion," she said mildly. +"It doesn't initiate any action." Then she raised her eyes to his face +and George felt his universe reel about him. + +For his wife's beautiful eyes were turned upon him, not in limpid +adoration, not in perfect acceptance of all his views, unheard, +unweighed; but with a question in their blue depths. + +The horrid clairvoyance which harassment and self-distrust had given +him that afternoon enabled him, he thought, to translate that look. +The Eliot woman, in her speech before the Woman's Forum, had doubtless +placed the responsibility for the continuation of those factory +conditions upon the district attorney's office, had doubtless repeated +those damn fool, impractical questions which the suffragists were +displaying in McMonigal's windows. + +And Genevieve was asking them in her mind! Genevieve was questioning +him, his motives, his standards, his intentions! Genevieve was not +intellectually a charming mechanical doll who would always answer "yes" +and "no" as he pressed the strings, and maintain a comfortable vacuity +when he was not at hand to perform the kindly act. Genevieve was +thinking on her own account. What, he wondered angrily, as he +dressed--for he could not bring himself to ask her aid in escaping +the Herringtons and, indeed, was suddenly balky at the thought of the +intimacies of a domestic evening--_what_ was she thinking? She was not +such an imbecile as to be unaware how large a share of her comfortable +fortune was invested in the local industry. Why, her father had been +head of the Livingston Loomis-Ladd Collar Company, when that dreadful +fire--! And she certainly knew that his uncle, Martin Jaffry, was the +chief stockholder in the Jaffry-Bradshaw Company. + +What was the question in Genevieve's eyes? Was she asking if he were the +knight of those women who worked and sweated and burned, or of her and +the comfortable women of her class, of Alys Brewster-Smith with +her little cottages, of Cousin Emelene with her little stocks, of +masquerading Betty Sheridan whose sortie of independence was from the +safe vantage-grounds of entrenched privilege? + +And all that evening as he watched his wife across the crystal and the +roses of the Herrington table, trying to interpret the question that had +been in her eyes, trying to interpret her careful silence, he realized +what every husband sooner or later awakes to realize--that he had +married a stranger. + +He did not know her. He did not know what ambitions, what aspirations +apart from him, ruled the spirit behind that charming surface of flesh. + +Of course she was good, of course she was tender, of course she was +high-minded! But how wide-enveloping was the cloak of her goodness? +How far did her tenderness reach out? Was her high-mindedness of the +practical or impractical variety? + +From time to time, he caught her eyes in turn upon him, with that +curious little look of re-examination in their depths. She could look at +him like that! She could look at him as though appraisals were possible +from a wife to a husband! + +They avoided industrial Whitewater County as a topic when they left +the Herrington's. They talked with great animation and interest of the +people at the party. Arrived at home, George, pleading press of work, +went down into the library while Genevieve went to bed. Carefully they +postponed the moment of making articulate all that, remaining unspoken, +might be ignored. + +It was one o'clock and he had not moved a paper for an hour, when the +library door opened. + +Genevieve stood there. She had sometimes come before when he had worked +at night, to chide him for neglecting sleep, to bring bouillon or +chocolate. But tonight she did neither. + +She did not come far into the room, but standing near the door and +looking at him with a new expression--patient, tender, the everlasting +eternal look--she said: "I couldn't sleep, either. I came down to say +something, George. Don't interrupt me----" for he was coming toward +her with sounds of affectionate protest at her being out of bed. +"Don't speak! I want to say--whatever you do, whatever you +decide--now--always--I love you. Even if I don't agree, I love you." + +She turned and went swiftly away. + +George stood looking at the place where she had stood,--this strange, +new Genevieve, who, promising to love, reserved the right to judge. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. BY MARY HEATON VORSE + + +The high moods of night do not always survive the clear, cold light of +day. Indeed it requires the contribution of both man and wife to keep a +high mood in married life. + +Genevieve had gone in to make her profession of faith to her husband +in a mood which touched the high altitudes. She had gone without any +conscious expectation of anything from him in the way of response. She +had vaguely but confidingly expected him to live up to the moment. + +She had expected something beautiful, a lovely flower of the +spirit--comprehension, generosity. Living up to the demand of the moment +was George's forte. Indeed, there were those among his friends who felt +that there were moments when George lived up to things too brightly +and too beautifully. His Uncle Jaffry, for instance, had his openly +skeptical moments. But George even lived up to his uncle's skepticism. +He accepted his remarks with charming good humor. It was his pride that +he could laugh at himself. + +At the moment of Genevieve's touching speech he lived up to exactly +nothing. He didn't even smile. He only stared at her--a stare which +said: + +"Now what the devil do you mean by that?" + +Genevieve had a flicker of bitter humor when she compared her moment of +sentiment to a toy balloon pulled down from the blue by an unsympathetic +hand. + +The next morning, while George was still shaving, the telephone rang. It +was Betty. + +"Can you have lunch with me at Thorne's, where we can talk?" she asked +Genevieve. "And give me a little time tomorrow afternoon?" + +"Why," Geneviève responded, "I thought you were a working girl." + +There was a perceptible pause before Betty replied. + +"Hasn't George told you?" "Told what?" Genevieve inquired. "George +hasn't told me anything." + +"I've left the office." + +"Left! For heaven's sake, why?" + +Betty's mind worked swiftly. + +"Better treat it as a joke," was her decision. There was no pause before +she answered. + +"Oh, trouble with the boss." + +"You'll get over it. You're always having trouble with Penny. + +"Oh," said Betty, "it's not with Penny this time." + +"Not with George?" + +"Yes, with George," Betty answered. "Did you think one couldn't quarrel +with the noblest of his sex? Well, one can." + +"Oh, Betty, I'm sorry." Genevieve's tone was slightly reproachful. + +"Well, I'm not," said Betty. "I like my present job better. It was a +good thing he fired me." + +"_Fired_ you! George fired _you_?" + +"Sure thing," responded Betty blithely. "I can't stand here talking all +day. What I want to know is, can I see you at lunch?" + +"Yes--why, yes, of course," said Genevieve, dazedly. Then she hung up +the receiver and stared into space. + +George, beautifully dressed, tall and handsome, now emerged from his +room. For once his adoring wife failed to notice that in appearance +he rivaled the sun god. She had one thing she wanted to know, and she +wanted to know it badly. It was, + +"Why did you fire Betty Sheridan?" + +She asked this in the insulting "point of the bayonet" tone which angry +equals use to one another the world over. + +Either question or tone would have been enough to have put George's +already sensitive nerves on edge. Both together were unbearable. It was, +when you came down to it, the most awkward question in the world. + +Why, indeed, had he fired Betty Sheridan? He hadn't really given +himself an account of the inward reasons yet. The episode had been too +disturbing; and it was George's characteristic to put off looking on +unpleasant facts as long as possible. Had he been really hard up, which +he never had been, he would undoubtedly have put away, unopened, the +bills he couldn't pay. Life was already presenting him with the bill of +yesterday's ill humor, and he was not yet ready to add up the amount. He +hid himself now behind the austerity of the offended husband. + +"My dear," he inquired in his turn, "don't you think that you had best +leave the details of my office to me?" + +He knew how lame this was, and how inadequate, before Genevieve replied. + +"Betty Sheridan is not a detail of your office. She's one of my best +friends, and I want to know why you fired her. I dare say she was +exasperating; but I can't see any reason why you should have done it. +You should have let her leave." + +It was Betty, with that lamentable lack of delicacy which George had +pointed out to her, who had not been ready to leave. + +"You will have to let me be the judge of what I should or should not +have done," said George. This piece of advice Genevieve ignored. + +"Why did you send her away?" she demanded. + +"I sent her away, if you want to know, for her insolence and her damned +bad taste. If you think--working in my office as she was--it's decent or +proper on her part to be active in a campaign that is against me----" + +"You mean because she's a suffragist? You sent her away for _that_! Why, +really, that's _tyranny_! It's like my sending away some one working for +me for her beliefs----" + +They stood staring at each other, not questioningly as they had +yesterday, but as enemies,--the greater enemies that they so loved each +other. + +Because of that each word of unkindness was a doubled-edged sword. They +quarreled. It was the first time that they had seen each other without +illusion. They had been to each other the ideal, the lover, husband, +wife. + +Now, in the dismay of his amazement in finding himself quarreling with +the perfect wife, a vagrant memory came to George that he had heard +that Genevieve had a hot temper. She certainly had. He didn't notice +how handsome she looked kindled with anger. He only knew that the rose +garden in which they lived was being destroyed by their angry hands; +that the very foundation of the life they had been leading was being +undermined. + +The time of mirage and glamour was over. He had ceased being a hero and +an ideal, and why? Because, forgetting his past life, his record, his +achievement, Genevieve obstinately insisted on identifying him with one +single mistake. He was willing to concede it was a mistake. She had not +only identified him with it, but she had called him a number of wounding +things. + +"Tyrant" was the least of them, and, worse than that, she had, in a +very fury of temper, told him that he "needn't take that pompous"--yes, +"pompous" had been her unpleasant word--"tone" with her, when he +had inquired, more in sorrow than in anger, if this were really his +Genevieve speaking. + +There was a pause in their hostilities. They looked at each other +aghast. Aghast, they had perceived the same awful truth. Each saw that +love [Illustration: "You mean because she's a suffragist? You sent her +away for _that_? Why, really, that's _tyranny_!"] in the other's heart +was dead, and that things never could be the same again. So they stood +looking down this dark gulf, and the light of anger died. + +In a toneless voice: "We mustn't let Cousin Emelene and Alys hear us +quarreling," said George. And Genevieve answered, "They've gone down to +breakfast." + +The two ladies were seated at table. + +"We heard you two love birds cooing and billing, and thought we might +as well begin," said Alys Brewster-Smith. "Regularity is of the highest +importance in bringing up a child." + +Cousin Emelene was reading the _Sentinel._ George's quick eye glanced at +the headlines: + +_Candidate Remington Heckled by Suffragists. Ask Him Leading Questions._ + +"Why, dear me," she remarked, her kind eyes on George, "it's perfectly +awful, isn't it, that they break the laws that way just for a little +more money. But I don't see why they want to annoy dear George. They +ought to be glad they are going to get a district attorney who'll put +all those things straight. I think it's very silly of them to ask him, +don't you, Genevieve?" + +"Let me see," said Genevieve, taking the paper. + +"All he's got to do, anyway, is to answer," pursued Cousin Emelene. + +"Yes, that's all," replied Genevieve, her melancholy gaze on George. +Yesterday she would have had Emelene's childlike faith. But this +stranger, who, for a trivial and tyrannical reason, had sent away +Betty--how would _he_ act? + +"They showed these right opposite your windows?" she questioned. + +"Yes," he returned. "Our friend Mrs. Herrington did it herself. It was +the first course of our dinner. If you think that's good taste--" + +"I would expect it of her," said Alys Brewster-Smith. + +"But it makes it so easy for George," Emelene repeated. "They'll know +now what sort of a man he is. Little children at work, just to make a +little more money--it's awful!" + +"Talking about money, George," said Alys, "have you seen to my houses +yet?" "Not yet," replied the harassed George. "You'll have to excuse my +going into the reasons now. I'm late as it is." + +His voice had not the calm he would have wished for. As he took his +departure, he heard Alys saying, + +"If you'll let me, my dear, I'd adore helping you about the +housekeeping. I don't want to stay here and be a burden. If you'll just +turn it over to me, I could cut your housekeeping expenses in half." + +"Damn the women," was the unchivalrous thought that rose to George's +lips. + +One would have supposed that trouble had followed closely enough on +George Remington's trail, but now he found it awaiting him in his +office. + +Usually, Penny was the late one. It was this light-hearted young man's +custom to blow in with so engaging an expression and so cheerful a +manner that any comment on his unpunctuality was impossible. Today, +instead of a gay-hearted young man, he looked more like a sentencing +judge. + +What he wanted to know was, + +"What have you done to Betty Sheridan? Do you mean to say that you had +the nerve to send her away, send her out of my office without consulting +me--and for a reason like that? How did you think I was going to feel +about it?" + +"I didn't think about you," said George. + +"You bet you didn't. You thought about number one and your precious +vanity. Why, if one were to separate you from your vanity, one couldn't +see you when you were going down the street. Go on, make a frock coat +gesture! Play the brilliant but outraged young district attorney. Do you +know what it was to do a thing of that kind--to fire a girl because she +didn't agree with you?" + +"It wasn't because she didn't agree with me," George interrupted, with +heat. + +"It was the act of a cad," Penny finished. "Look here, young man, I'm +going to tell you a few plain truths about yourself. You're not the sort +of person that you think you are. You've deceived yourself the way other +people are deceived about you--by your exterior. But inside of that +good-looking carcass of yours there's a brain composed of cheese. You +weren't only a cad to do it--you were a fool!" "You can't use that tone +to me!" cried George. + +"Oh, can't I just? By Jove, it's things like that that make one wake up. +Now I know why women have a passion for suffrage. I never knew before," +Penny went on, with more passion than logic. "You had a nerve to make +that statement of yours. You're a fine example of chivalry. You let +loose a few things when you wrote that fool statement, but you did a +worse trick when you fired Betty Sheridan. God, you're a pinhead--from +the point of view of mere tactics. Sometimes I wonder whether you've +_any_ brain." + +George had turned white with anger. + +"That'll just about do," he remarked. + +"Oh, no, it won't," said Penny. "It won't do at all. I'm not going to +remain in a firm where things like this can happen. I wouldn't risk my +reputation and my future. You're going to do the decent thing. You're +going to Betty Sheridan and tell her what you think of yourself. She +won't come back, I suppose, but you might ask her to do that, too. And +now I'm going out, to give you time to think this over. And tonight +you can tell me what you've decided. And then I'll tell you whether I'm +going to dissolve our partnership. Your temper's too bad to decide +now. Maybe when you've done that she won't treat me like an unsavory +stranger." + +He left, and George sat down to gloomy reflection. + +To do him justice, the idea of apologizing to Betty had already occurred +to him. If he put off the day of reckoning, when the time came he would +pay handsomely. He realized that there was no use in wasting energy and +being angry with Penny. He looked over the happenings of the last few +hours and the part he had played in them, and what he saw failed to +please him. He saw himself being advised by Doolittle to concentrate on +the Erie Oval. He heard him urging him not to be what Doolittle called +unneighborly. The confiding words of Cousin Emelene rang in his ears. + +He saw himself, in a fit of ill-temper, discharging Betty. He saw +Genevieve, lovely and scornful, urging him to be less pompous. All this, +he had to admit, he had brought on himself. Why should he have been so +angry at these questions? Again Emelene's remark echoed in his ear. He +had only to answer them--and he was going to concentrate on the Erie +Oval! + +There came a knock on the door, and a breezy young woman demanded, + +"D'you want a stenographer?" + +George wanted a stenographer, and wanted one badly. He put from him the +whole vexed question in the press of work, and by lunch time he made up +his mind to have it out with Betty. There was no use putting it off, and +he knew that he could have no peace with himself until he did. He felt +very tired--as though he had been doing actual physical work. He thought +of yesterday as a land of lost content. But he couldn't find Betty. + +He bent his steps toward home, and as he did so affection for Genevieve +flooded his heart. He so wanted yesterday back--things as they had been. +He so wanted her love and her admiration. He wanted to put his tired +head on her shoulder. He couldn't bear, not for another moment, to be at +odds with her. + +He wondered what she had been doing, and how she had spent the morning. +He imagined her crying her heart out. He leaped up the steps and ran up +to his room. In it was Alys Brewster-Smith. She started slightly. + +"I was just looking for some cold cream," she explained. + +"Where's Genevieve?" George asked. + +"Oh, she's out," Alys replied casually. "She left a note for you." + +The note was a polite and noncommittal line informing George that +Genevieve would not be back for lunch. He felt as though a lump of ice +replaced his heart. His disappointment was the desperate disappointment +of a small boy. + +He went back to the gloomy office and worked through the interminable +day. Late in the afternoon Mr. Doolittle lounged heavily in. + +"Have some gum, George?" he inquired, inserting a large piece in his own +mouth. + +He chewed rhythmically for a space. George waited. He knew that chewing +gum was not the ultimate object of Mr. Doolittle's visit. + +"Don't women beat the Dutch?" he inquired at last. "Yes sir, mister; +they do!" + +"What's up now?" George inquired. "The suffragists again?" + +"Nope; not on the face of it they ain't. It's the Woman's Forum that's +doin' this. They've got a sweet little idea. 'Seein' Whitewater Sweat' +they call it. + +"They're goin' around in bunches of twos, or mebbe blocks o' five, +seein' all the sights; an' you know women ain't reasonable, an' you +can't reason with them. They're goin' to find a pile o' things they +won't like in this little burg o' ours, all right, all right. An' +they'll want to have things changed right off. I want to see things +changed m'self. I'd like to, but them things take time, an' that's what +women won't understand. + +"Jimminee, I've heard of towns all messed up and candidates ruined just +because the women got wrought up over tenement-house an' fire laws an' +truck like that. Yes sir, they're out seein' Whitewater this minut, or +will be if you can't divert their minds. Call 'em off, George, if you +can. Get 'em fussy about sumpen else." + +"Why, what have I to do with it?" George inquired. + +"Well, I didn't know but what you might have sumpen," said Mr. Doolittle +mildly. "It's that young lady that works here, Miss Sheridan, an' your +wife what's organizin' it. Planning it all out to Thorne's at lunch they +was, an' Heally was sittin' at the next table and beats it to me. You +can see for yerself what a hell of a mess they'll make!" + + + + +CHAPTER IX. BY ALICE DUER MILLER + + +It was a relief to both men when at this point the door of the office +opened and Martin Jaffry entered. + +Not since the unfortunate anti-suffrage statement of George's had Uncle +Martin dropped in like this. George, looking at him with that first +swift glance that often predetermines a whole interview, made up his +mind that bygones were to be bygones. He greeted his uncle with the +warmest cordiality. + +"Well, George," said Uncle Martin, "how are things going?" + +"I'm going to be elected, if that's what you mean," answered George. + +Doolittle gave a snort. "Indeed, are ye?" said he. "As a friend and +well-wisher, I'm sure I'm delighted to hear the news." "Do I understand +that you have your doubts, Mr. Doolittle?" Jaffry inquired mildly. + +"There's two things we need and need badly, Mr. Jaffry," said Doolittle. +"One's money--" + +"A small campaign contribution would not be rejected?" + +"But there's something we need more than money--and God knows I never +expected to say them words--and that's common sense." + +"Good," said Uncle Martin, "I have plenty of that, too!" + +"Then for the love of Mike pass some of it on to this precious nephew of +yours." + +"What seems to be the matter?" + +"It's them women," said Doolittle. + +Uncle Martin turned inquiringly to George: "The tender flowers?" he +suggested. + +"Look here, Uncle Martin," said George, who had had a good deal of this +sort of thing to bear, "I don't understand you. Do you believe in woman +suffrage?" + +Uncle Martin contemplated a new crumpling of his long-suffering cap +before he answered. "Yes and no, George. I believe in it in the same way +that I believe in old age and death. I can't avoid them by denying their +existence." + +"But you fight against them, and put them off as long as you can." + +"But I yield a little to them, too, George. What is it? Has Genevieve +become a convert to suffrage?" + +"Has Genevieve--has my wife----" + +Then George remembered that his uncle was an older man and that chivalry +is not limited to the treatment of the weaker sex. + +"No," he said with a calm hardly less magnificent than the tempest would +have been, "no, Uncle Martin, Genevieve has not become a suffragist." + +"Well," said Doolittle rising, as if such things were hardly worth his +valuable time, "I fail to see the difference between a suffragette an' a +woman who goes pokin' her nose into what----" + +"You're speaking of my wife, Mr. Doolittle," said George, with a +significant lighting of the eye. + +"Speakin' in general," said Doolittle. + +Uncle Martin was interested. "Has Genevieve been--well, we won't say +poking the nose--but taking a responsible civic interest where it would +be better if she didn't?" + +"It seems," answered George, casting an angry glance at his campaign +manager, "that Mr. Doolittle has heard from a friend of his who +overheard a conversation between Betty Sheridan and my wife at luncheon. +From this he inferred that the two were planning an investigation of +some of the city's problems." + +Uncle Martin looked relieved. + +"Oh, your wife and your stenographer. That can be stopped, I suppose, +without undue exertion." + +"Betty is no longer my stenographer." + +"Left, has she?" said Jaffry. "I had an idea she would not stay with you +long." + +This intimation was not agreeable to George. He would have liked to +explain that Miss Sheridan's departure had been dictated by the will +of the head of the firm; in fact he opened his mouth to do so. But the +remembrance that this would entail a long and wearisome exposition of +his reasons caused him to remain silent, and his uncle went on: "Well, +anyhow, you can get Geneviève to drop it." + +If Doolittle had not been there, George would have been glad to discuss +with his uncle, who had, after all, a sort of worldly shrewdness, how +far a man is justified in controlling his wife's opinions. But before an +audience now a trifle unsympathetic, he could not resist the temptation +of making the gesture of a man magnificently master in his own house. + +He smiled quite grandly. "I think I can promise that," he said. + +Doolittle got up slowly, bringing his jaws together in a relentless bite +on the unresisting gum. + +"Well," he said, "that's all there is to it." And he added significantly +as he reached the door, "If you kin _do_ it!" + +When the campaign manager had gone, Uncle Martin asked very, very +gently: "You don't feel any doubt of being able to do it, do you, +George?" + +"About my ability to control--I mean influence, my wife? I feel no doubt +at all." + +"And Penfield, I suppose, can tackle Betty? You won't mind my saying +that of the two I think your partner has the harder job." + +A slight cloud appeared upon the brow of the candidate. + +"I don't feel inclined to ask any favor of Penny just at present," he +said haughtily. "Has it ever struck you, Uncle Martin, that Penny has an +unduly emotional, an almost feminine type of mind?" + +"No," said the other, "it hasn't, but that is perhaps because I have +never been sure just what the feminine type of mind is." + +"You know what I mean," answered George, trying to conceal his +annoyance at this sort of petty quibbling. "I mean he is too personal, +over-excitable, irrational and very hard to deal with." + +"Dear me," said Jaffry. "Is Geneviève like that?" + +"Geneviève," replied her husband loyally, "is much better poised than +most women, but--yes,--even she--all women are more or less like that." + +"All women and Penny. Well, George, you have my sympathy. An excitable +partner, an irrational stenographer, and a wife that's very hard to deal +with!" + +"I never said Geneviève was hard to deal with," George almost shouted. + +"My mistake--thought you did," answered his uncle, now moving rapidly +away. "Let me know the result of the interview, and we'll talk over ways +and means." And he shut the door briskly behind him. + +George walked to the window, with his hands in his pockets. He always +liked to look out while he turned over grave questions in his mind; +but this comfort was now denied to him, for he could not help being +distracted by the voiceless speech still relentlessly turning its pages +in the opposite window. + +The heading now was: + +DOES THE FIFTY-FOUR-HOUR-A-WEEK LAW APPLY TO FLOWERS? + +He flung himself down on his chair with an exclamation. He knew he had +to think carefully about something which he had never considered before, +and that was his wife's character. + +Of course he liked to think about Geneviève--; of her beauty, her +abilities, her charms; and particularly he liked to think about her love +for him. + +A week ago he would have met the present situation very simply. He would +have put his arm about her and said: "My darling, I think I'd a little +rather you dropped this sort of thing for the present." And that would +have been enough. + +But he knew it would not be enough now. He would have to have a reason, +a case. + +"Heavens," he thought, "imagine having to talk to one's wife as if she +were the lawyer for the other side." + +He did not notice that he was reproaching Geneviève for being too +impersonal, too unemotional and not irrational enough. + +When he went home at five, he had thought it out. He put his head into +the sitting-room, where Alys was ensconced behind the tea-kettle. + +"Come in, George dear," she called graciously, "and let me give you a +really good cup of tea. It's some I've just ordered for you, and I think +you'll find it an improvement on what you've been accustomed to." George +shut the door again, pretending he had not heard; but he had had time +enough to note that dear little Eleanor was building houses out of his +most treasured books. + +The memory of his quarrel with his wife had been partly obliterated by +memories of so many other quarrels during the day that it was only when +he was actually standing in her room that he remembered how very bitter +their parting had been. + +He stood looking at her doubtfully, and it was she who came forward and +put her arms about him. They clung to each other like two children who +have been frightened by a nightmare. + +"We mustn't quarrel again, George," she said. "I've had a real, true, +old-fashioned pain in my heart all day. But I think I understand better +now than I did. I lunched with Betty and she made me see." + +"What did Betty make you see?" asked George nervously, for he had not +perfect confidence in Miss Sheridan's visions. + +"That it was all a question of efficiency. She said that in business a +man's stenographer is just an instrument to make his work easier, and if +for any reason at all that instrument does not suit him he is justified +in getting rid of it, and in finding one that does." + +"Betty is very generous," he said coldly. He wanted to hear his wife say +that she had not thought him pompous; it was very hard to be thankful +for a mere ethical rehabilitation. + +Part of his thought-out plan was that Geneviève must herself tell him +of the Woman's Forum's investigation; it would not do for him to let +her know he had heard of it through a political eavesdropper. So after a +moment he added casually: + +"And what else did Betty have to say?" + +"Nothing much." + +His heart sank. Was Geneviève becoming uncandid? + +"Nothing else," he said. "Just to justify me in your eyes?" + +She hesitated, "No, that was not quite all, but it is too early to talk +about it yet." + +"Anything that interests you, my dear, I should like to hear about from +the beginning." Perhaps Geneviève was not so unemotional after all, for +at this expression of his affection, her eyes filled with tears. + +"I long to tell you," she said. "I only hesitated on your account, but +of course I want all your help and advice. It's this: There seems to +be no doubt that the conditions under which women are working in +our factories are hideous--dangerous--the law is broken with perfect +impunity. I know you can't act on rumors and hearsay. Even the +inspectors don't give out the truth. And so we are going to persuade the +Woman's Forum to abandon its old policy of mere discussion. + +"We--Betty and I--are going to get the members for once to act--to make +an investigation; so that the instant you come into the office you will +have complete information at your disposal--facts, and facts and facts +on which you can act." + +She paused and looked eagerly at her husband, who remained silent. +Seeing this she went on: + +"I know what you're thinking. I thought of it myself. Am I justified in +using my position in the Woman's Forum to further your political career? +Well, my answer is, it isn't your political career, only; it's truth and +justice that will be furthered." + +Here in the home there was no voiceless speech to make the view +intolerable, and George moved away from his wife and walked to the +window. He looked out on his own peaceful trees and lawn, and on Hanna, +like a tiger in the jungle, stalking a competent little sparrow. + +A temptation was assailing George. Suppose he did put his opposition to +this investigation on a high and mighty ground? Suppose he announced a +moral scruple? But no, he cast Satan behind him. + +"Geneviève," he said, turning sharply toward her, "this question puts +our whole attitude to a test. If you and I are two separate individuals, +with different responsibilities, different interests, different +opinions, then we ought to be consistent; that ought to mean economic +independence of each other, and equal suffrage; it means that husband +and wife may become business competitors and political opponents. + +"But if, as you know I believe, a man and woman who love each other are +one, are a unit as far as society is concerned, why then our interests +are identical, and it is simply a question of which of us two is better +able to deal with any particular situation." + +"But that is what I believe, too, George." + +"I hoped it was, dear; I know it used to be. Then you must let me act +for you in this matter." + +"Yes, in the end; but an investigation--" + +"My darling, politics is not an ideal; it is a practical human +institution. Just at present, from the political point of view, such an +investigation would do me incalculable harm." + +"George!" + +He nodded. "It would probably lose me the election." + +"But why?" + +"Geneviève, am I your political representative or not?" + +"You are," she smiled at him, "and my dear love as well; but may I not +even know why?" + +"If you dismissed the cook, and I summoned you before me and bade you +give me your reasons for such an action, would you not feel in your +heart that I was disputing your judgment?" + +She looked at him honestly. "Yes, I should." + +"And I would not do such a discourteous thing to you. In the home you +are absolute. Whatever you do, whatever you decide, is right. I would +not dream of questioning. Will you not give me the same confidence in my +special department?" + +There was a short pause; then Geneviève held out her hand. + +"Yes, George," she said, "I will, but on one condition----" + +"_I_ did not make conditions, Geneviève." + +"You do not have to, my dear. You know that I am really your +representative in the house; that I am really always thinking of your +wishes. You must do the same as my political representative. I mean, if +I am not to do this work myself, you must do it for me." + +"Even if I consider it unwise?" + +"Unwise to protect women and children?" + +"Geneviève," he said seriously, as one who confides something not always +confided to women, "enforcing law sometimes does harm." + +"But an investigation----" + +"That's where you are ignorant, my dear. If an investigation is made, +especially if the women mix themselves up in it, then we shall have no +choice but enforcement." + +She had sunk down on her sofa, but now she sprang up. "And you don't +mean to enforce the law in respect of women? Is that why you don't want +the investigation?" + +"Not at all. You are most unjust. You are most illogical, Geneviève. All +I am asking is that the whole question should not be taken up at this +moment--just before election." + +"But this is the only moment when we can find out whether or not you are +a candidate who will do what we want." + +"_We_, Geneviève! Who do you mean by 'we'?" + +She stared for a second at him, her eyes growing large and dark with +astonishment. + +"Oh, George," she gasped finally, "I think I meant women when I said +'we.' George, I'm afraid I'm a _suffragist_. And oh," she added, with a +sort of wail, "I don't want to be, I don't want to be!" + +"Damn Betty Sheridan," exclaimed George. "This is all her doing." + +His wife shook her head. "No," she said, "it wasn't Betty who made me +see." + +"Who was it?" + +"It was you, George." + +"I don't understand you." + +"You made me see why women want to vote for themselves. How can you +represent me, when we disagree fundamentally?" + +"How can we disagree fundamentally when we love each other?" + +"You mean that because we love each other, I must think as you do?" + +"What else could I mean, darling?" + +"You might have meant that you would think as I do." + +George glanced at her in deep offense. + +"We have indeed drifted far apart," he said. + +At this moment there was a knock at the door, and the news was conveyed +to George that Mr. Evans was downstairs asking to see him. + +"Oh dear," said Geneviève, "it seems as if we never could get a moment +by ourselves nowadays. What does Penny want?" + +"He wants to tell me whether he intends to dissolve partnership or not." + +Any fear that his wife had disassociated herself from his interests +should have been dispelled by the tone in which she exclaimed: "Dissolve +partnership! Penny? Well, I never in my life! Where would Penny be +without you, I should like to know! He must be crazy." + +These words made George feel happier than anything that had happened to +him throughout this day. His self-esteem began to revive. + +"I think Penny has been a little hasty," he said, judicially but not +unkindly. "He lost all self-control when he heard I had let Betty go." + +"Isn't that like a man," said Geneviève, "to throw away his whole future +just because he loses his temper?" + +George did not directly answer this question, and his wife went on. +"However, it will be all right. He has seen Betty this afternoon, and +she won't let him do anything foolish." + +George glanced at her. "You mean that Betty will prevent his leaving the +firm?" + +"Of course she will." + +George walked to the door. + +"I seem to owe a good deal to my former stenographer," he said, "my +wife, my partner; next, perhaps it will be my election." + + + + +CHAPTER X. BY ETHEL WATTS MUMFORD + + +Penny, pacing the drawing-room with pantheresque strides, came to a +tense halt as Remington entered. + +"Well?" he said, his eyes hard, his unwelcoming hands thrust deep into +his pockets. + +That identical "well" with its uptilt of question had been on George's +tongue. It was a monosyllable that demanded an answer. Penny had got +ahead of him, forced him, as it were, into the witness chair, and he +resented it. + +"Seems to me," he began hotly, "that you were the one who was going to +make the statements--' whether or no,' I believe, we were to continue in +partnership." + +"Perhaps," retorted Penny, with the air of allowing no great importance +to that angle of the argument, "but what I want to know is, _are_ +you going to be a square man, and own up you were peeved into being +a tyrant? And when you've done that, are you going to tell Betty, and +apologize?" + +George hesitated, trapped between his irritation and the still small +voice. + +"Look here," he said, with that amiable suavity that had won him many a +concession, "you know well enough I don't want to hurt Betty's feelings. +If she feels that way about it, of course I'll apologize." + +His partner looked at him in blank amazement. + +"Gad!" he exclaimed as if examining a particularly fine specimen of some +rare beetle, "what a bounder." + +"Meaning me?" snapped George. + +"Don't dare to quibble. Look me in the eye." + +There was a third degree fatality about the usually debonair Penny that +exacted obedience. George unwillingly looked him in the eye, and had a +ghastly feeling of having his suddenly realized smallness X-rayed. + +"You know damned well you acted like a cad," Penny continued, "and I +want to know, for all our sakes, if you're man enough to own it?" + +George's fundamental honesty mastered him. Anger died from his eyes. His +clenched hands relaxed and began an unconscious and nervous exploration +for a cigarette. + +"Since you put it that way," he said, "and it happens that my conscience +agrees with you--I'll go you. I _was_ a cad, and I'll tell Betty so. +Confound it!" he growled, "I don't know _what's_ come over me these +days. I've got to get a grip on myself." + +"You _bet_ you have," said Penny, hauling his fists from his trousers as +if with an effort. Then he grinned. "Betty said you would." + +George's eyes darkened. + +"And I'll tell you now," Penny went on, "since you've turned out at +least half-decent, Betty'll let you off that apology thing. _She_ +wasn't the one who was exacting it--not she. _I_ couldn't stand for +your highfalutin excuses for being--well, never mind--we all get our off +days. But don't you get off again like that if----" Penny hesitated. +"If you want me for a partner," which seemed the obvious conclusion, was +tame. "If you want to hang on to any one's respect," he finished. + +"Say, though," he murmured, "Betty'll give me 'what for' for drubbing +you. She actually took your side--said--oh, never mind--tried to make +me think of her just as if she was any old Mamie--the stenog--tried to +prune out personal feeling." + +"By Jove," he ruminated, "that girl's a corker!" + +He raised forgiving eyes from his contemplation of the rug. + +"Well, old man, blow me to a Scotch and soda, and I'll be going. Dinged +if it wouldn't have broken me all up to have busted with you, even if +you are a box of prunes. Shake." + +George shook, but he was far from happy. What he had gained in peace of +mind he had lost in self-conceit. His resentment against the pinch of +circumstance was deepening to cancerous vindictiveness. + +As Pennington left with a cheery good-by and a final half-cynical word +of advice "to get onto himself" George mounted the stairs slowly and +came face to face with Geneviève, obviously in wait for him. + +"What happened?" she inquired, with an anxious glance at his corrugated +brow. + +George did not feel in a mood to describe his retreat, if not defeat. + +"Oh, nothing. We had a highball. I think I made him--well--it's all +right." + +"There, I knew Betty'd make him see reason," she smiled. "I'm awfully +glad. I've a real respect for Penny's judgment after all, you know." + +"Meaning, you have your doubts about mine." + +"No, meaning only just what I said--_just_ that. By the way, George, I +wish you'd take time to look into Alys' real estate. Somebody ought to, +and if you're really representing her----" + +"Oh, good heavens!" he exclaimed impatiently, angered by her swift +transition from his own to another's affairs. "I can't! I simply can't! +Haven't you any conception of how busy I am?" + +"I know, dear; I _do_ know. But something must be done. The Health +Department," she explained, "has sent in complaint after complaint, +and Miss Eliot simply won't handle the property unless she's allowed to +spend a lot setting things to rights. Alys says it's absurd; none of the +other property owners out there are doing anything, and _she_ won't. So, +nobody's looking after it, and somebody should." + +"Who told you all this?" he demanded. "Miss E. Eliot, I suppose." + +His wife nodded. "And she's right," she added. + +"Well, perhaps she is," he allowed. "I'll get Alien to act as her agent +again. He's in with all the politicians; he ought to be able to stall +off the department." + +The words slipped out before he realized their import, but at +Genevieve's wide stare of amazement he flushed crimson. "I mean--lots of +these complaints are really mere red tape; some self-important employee +is trying to look busy. A little investigation usually puts that +straight." + +"Of course," she acquiesced, and he breathed a sigh of relief. "That +happens, too, but Miss Eliot says that the conditions out there are +really dreadful." + +"I'll talk to Allen," said George with an affectation of easy dismissal +of the subject. + +But Genevieve's mind appeared to have grown suddenly persistent. +At dinner she again brought up the subject, this time directing her +troubled gaze and troubling words at her guest. + +"Alys," she said abruptly, "I really think you ought to go out to +Kentwood--to see about your property out there, I mean." + +Mrs. Brewster-Smith looked up, rolling her large eyes in frank +amazement. + +"Go out there? What for? It isn't the sort of a district a lady cares to +be seen in, I'm told; and, besides, George is looking after that for +me. _He_ understands such matters, and I frankly own _I_ don't. Business +makes me quite dizzy," she added with a flash of very white teeth. + +Geneviève hesitated, then went to the point. + +"But you must advise with your agent, Alys. The property is _yours_." + +Alys raised sharply penciled brows. "I have utter confidence in George," +she answered in a tone of finality that brought an adoring look from +Emelene, and her usual Boswellian echo: "Of _course_." + +George squirmed uneasily. Such a vote of confidence implied accepted +responsibility, and he acknowledged to himself that he wanted to and +would dodge the unwelcome burden. He turned a benign Jovian expression +on Mrs. Brewster-Smith and condescended to explain. + +"I have considered what is best for you, and I will myself see Allen and +request him to take your real-estate affairs in charge again. Neither +Sampson nor--er--Eliot is, I think, advisable for your best interests." + +At the mention of the last name Genevieve's expressive face stretched to +speak; then she closed her lips with self-controlled determination. Mrs. +Brewster-Smith looked at her host in scandalized amazement. + +"But I _told_ you," she almost whimpered, "that his wife is simply +impossible." + +George smiled tolerantly. "But his wife isn't doing the business. It's +the business, not the social interests, we have to consider. + +"Oh, but she is in the business," Alys explained. "I think it's because +she's jealous of him; she wants to be around the office and watch him." + +Geneviève interposed. "Mrs. Allen owns a lot of land herself, and she +looks after it. It seems quite natural to me." + +"But she _has_ a husband," Alys rebuked. + +"Yes," agreed Geneviève, "but she probably married him for a husband, +not a business agent." + +George felt the reins of the situation slipping from him, so he jerked +the curb of conversation. + +"We are beside the issue," he said in his most legal manner. "The fact +is that Allen knows more about the Kentwood district and the factory +values than any one else, and I feel it my duty to advise Alys to leave +her affairs in his hands. I'll see him for you in the morning." + +He turned to Alys with a return of tolerantly protective inflection in +his voice. + +Geneviève shrugged, a faint ghost of a shrug. Had George been less +absorbed in his own mental discomforts, he would have discovered there +and then that the matter of his speech, not the manner of his delivery, +was what held his wife's attention. No longer could rounded periods and +eloquent sophistry hide from her his thoughts and intentions. + +A telephone call interrupted the meal. He answered it with relief, +bowing a hurried, self-important excuse to the ladies. But the voice +that came over the wire was not modulated in tones of flattery. + +"Say," drawled the campaign manager, "you'd better get a hump on, and +come over here to headquarters. There's a couple of gents here who want +a word with you." + +The tone was ominous, and George stiffened. "Very well, I'll be right +over. But you can pretty well tell them where I stand on the main +issues. Who's at headquarters?" + +A snort of disgust greeted the inquiry. The snort told George that +seasoned campaigners did not use the telephone with such casual lack of +circumspection. The words were in like manner enlightening. "Well, there +might be Mr. Julius Caesar, and then again Mr. George Washington might +drop in. What I'm putting you wise to," he added sharply, "is that you'd +better get on to your job." + +There was a click as of a receiver hung up with a jerk, and a subdued +giggle that testified to the innocent attention of the telephone +operator. + +With but a pale reflection of his usual courtesy the harassed candidate +left the bosom of his family. No sooner had he taken his departure than +the bosom heaved. + +"My dear girl," said Alys, "if you take that tone with your husband +you'll never hold him--never. Men won't stand for it. You're only +hurting yourself." + +"What tone?" Genevieve inquired as she rose calmly and led the way to +the drawing-room. + +"I mean"--Mrs. Brewster-Smith slipped a firm, white hand across +Genevieve's shoulders--"you shouldn't try to force issues. It looks as +if you didn't have confidence in your husband, and men, to _do_ and _be_ +their best, must feel perfect trust from the woman they love. You don't +mind my being so frank, dear, but we women must help one another--by our +experience and our intuitions." + +Geneviève looked at her. Oblique angles had become irritatingly +fascinating. "I'm beginning to think so more and more," she replied. + +"It's for your own good, dear," Alys smiled. + +"Yes," Geneviève agreed. "I understand. Things that hurt are often for +our good, aren't they? We have to be _made_ to realize facts really to +know them." + +"Coffee, dear?" inquired Alys, assuming the duties of hostess. + +Geneviève shook her head. "No. I find I've been rather wakeful of late: +perhaps it's coffee. Excuse me. I must telephone." + +A moment later she returned beaming. + +"I have borrowed a car for tomorrow, and I want you and Emelene to come +with me for a little spin. We ought to have a bright day; the night is +wonderful. Poor George," she sighed, "I wish he didn't have to be away +so much." + +"His career is yours, you know," kittenishly bromidic, Emelene comforted +her. The following day fulfilled the promise of its predecessor. Clear +and balmy, it invited to the outer, world, and it was with pleased +anticipation that Genevieve's guests prepared for the promised outing. +Geneviève glanced anxiously into her gold mesh bag. The motor was hired, +not borrowed. + +She had permitted herself this one white lie. + +She ushered her guests into the tonneau and took her place beside the +chauffeur. Their first few stops were for such prosaic purchases as the +household made necessary; there was a pause at the post office, another +at the Forum, where Geneviève left two highly disgruntled women waiting +for her while with a guilty sense of teasing her prey she prolonged her +business. The sight of their stiffened figures and averted faces when +she returned to them kindled a new amusement. + +At last they were settled comfortably, and the car turned toward the +suburbs. + +The town streets were passed and lines of villa homes thinned. The +ornate colonial gates of the Country Club flashed by. Now the sky to +the right was dark with the smoke of the belching chimneys of many +factories. For a block or two cottages of the better sort flanked the +road; then, grim, ugly and dilapidated, stretched the twin "improved" +sections of Kentwood and Powderville. In the air was an acrid odor. Soot +begrimed everything. The sodden ground was littered with refuse between +the shacks, which were dignified by the title of "Workmen's Cottages." + +Amid the confusion, irregular trodden paths led, short-cutting, toward +the clattering, grinding munition plants. For a space of at least half +an acre around the huge iron buildings the ground, with sinister import, +was kept clear of dwellings, but in all directions outside of the +inclosure thousands of new yellow-pine shacks testified to the sudden +demand for labor. A large weather-beaten signboard at a wired cross-road +bore the name of "Kentwood," plus the advice that the office was +adjacent for the purchase or lease of the highly desirable villa sites. + +The motor drew up and Genevieve alighted. For the first time since their +course had been turned toward the unlovely but productive outskirts, +Geneviève faced her passengers. Alys' face was pale. Emelene's +expression was puzzled and worried, as a child's is worried when the +child is suddenly confronted by strange and gloomy surroundings. + +"There is some one in the renting office," said Geneviève with quiet +determination. "I'll find out. We shall need a guide to go around with +us. Emelene, you needn't get out unless you wish to." + +Emelene shuffled uneasily, half rose, and collapsed helplessly back +on the cushions, like a baby who has encountered the resistance of his +buggy strap. + +"I--if you'll excuse me, Geneviève, dear, I won't get out. I've only +got on my thin kid slippers. I didn't expect to put foot on the pavement +this morning, you know." + +"Very well, then, Alys!" Genevieve's voice assumed a note of command her +mild accents had never before known. + +Alys' brilliant eyes snapped. "I have no desire," she said firmly, with +all the dignity of an affronted lady, "to go into this matter." "I know +you haven't. But I'm going to walk through. _I_ am making a report for +the Woman's Forum." + +Alys' face crimsoned with anger. + +"You have no right to do such a thing," she exclaimed. "I shall refuse +you permission. You will have to obtain a permit." + +"I have one," Geneviève retorted, "from the Health Department. And--I am +to meet one of the officers here." + +Mrs. Brewster-Smith's descent from the tonneau was more rapid than +graceful. + +"What are you trying to do?" she demanded. "Geneviève, I don't +understand you." + +"Don't you?" + +The diffident girl had suddenly assumed the incisive strength of +observant womanhood. + +"I think you _do_. I am going to show you your own responsibilities, if +that's a possible thing. I'm not going to let you throw them on George +because he's a man and your kin; and I shan't let him throw them on an +irresponsible agent because he has neither the time nor the inclination +to do justice to himself, to you, nor to these people to whom he is +responsible." + +She waved a hand down the muddy, jumbled street. + +The advent of an automobile had had its effect. Eager faces appeared +at windows and doors. Children frankly curious and as frankly neglected +climbed over each other, hanging on the ragged fences. Two mongrel dogs +strained at their chains, yelping furiously. Geneviève crossed to +the little square building bearing a gilt "office" sign. There was no +response to her imperative knock, but a middle-aged man appeared on the +porch of the adjoining shack and observed her curiously. + +"Wanta rent?" he called jëeringly. + +"Are you in charge here?" Geneviève inquired. + +"Sorter," he temporized. "Watcha want?" + +"I want some one who knows something about it to go around Kentwood with +us." + +"What for?" he snarled. "I got my orders." + +"From whom?" countered Geneviève. + +"None of your business, as I can see." He eyed her narrowly. "But my +orders is to keep every one nosin' around here without no good raison +_out_ of the place--and I don't think _you're_ here to rent, nor your +friend, neither. Besides, there ain't nothin' to rent." + +Mrs. Brewster-Smith colored. The insult to her ownership of the premises +stung her to resentment. + +"My good man," she said sharply. "I happen to be the proprietor of North +Kent wood." + +"Then you'd better beat it." The guardian grinned. "There's a dame been +here with one of them fellers from the town office." + +"Where are they now?" questioned Genevieve sharply. + +"Went up factory way. But if you _ain't_ one of them lady nosies, you'd +better beat it, I tell you." + +Genevieve looked up the street. "Very well, we'll walk on up. This is +North Kentwood, isn't it?" + +"Ain't much choice," he shrugged, "but it is. You can smell it a mile. +Say, you lady owner there"--he laughed at his own astuteness in not +being taken in--"you know the monikers, don't you? South Kentwood, +'Stinktown'; North Kentwood, 'Swilltown'?" He grinned, pulled at his +hip pocket and, extracting a flat glass flask, took a prolonged swig and +replaced the bottle with a leer. + +The two incongruous visitors were already negotiating the muddy +thoroughfare between the dilapidated dwellings. Presently these gave +place to roughly knocked together structures for two and three families. + +The number of children was surprising. Now and again a shrill-voiced +woman, who seemed the prototype of her who lived in the shoe, came to +admonish her young and stare with hostile eyes at the invaders. Refuse, +barrels, cans, pigs, dogs, chickens, were on all sides, with here and +there a street watering trough, fed, apparently, by an occasional tap +at the wide-apart hydrants, installed by the factories for protection in +case of fire, as evidenced by the signs staked by the apparatus. + +"What do they pay you for these cottages?" Geneviève inquired suddenly. + +Mrs. Brewster-Smith, whose curiosity concerning her possessions had +been aroused by the physical evidence of the same, balanced on a rut and +surveyed her tormentor angrily. + +"I'm sure I don't know. I've told you before I don't understand such +matters, and I see nothing to be gained by coming here." + +Geneviève pushed open a battered gate, walked up to the door and +knocked. + +"What are you doing?" her companion called, querulously. + +A noise of many pattering feet on bare floors, a strident order for +silence, and the door swung open. A young girl stood in the doorway. +Behind her were a dozen or more children, varying from toddlers to gawky +girls and boys of school age. + +Genevieve's eyes widened. "Dear me," she exclaimed, "they aren't all +_yours_!" + +The young woman grinned mirthlessly. "I should say not!" she snapped. +"They pays me to look out for 'em--their fathers and mothers in the +factory. Watcha want?" + +"What do you pay for a house like this?" + +The hired mother's brow wrinkled, and her lips drew back in an ugly +snarl. "They robs us, these landlords does. We gotter be 'longside the +works, so they robs us. What do I pay for this? Thirty a month, and at +that 'tain't fit for no dawg to live in. I could knock up a shack like +this with tar paper, I could. + +"And what do we get? I gotter haul the water in a bucket, and cook on an +oil stove, and they hists the price of the ile, 'cause he comes by in +a wagon with it. The landlords is squeezing the life out of us, I tell +ye." + +She paused in her tirade to yell at her charges. Then she turned again +to the story of her wrongs. + +"And of all the pest holes I ever seen, this is the plum worst. There's +chills an' fever an' typhoid till you can't rest, an' them kids is +abustin' with measles an' mumps an' scarlet fever. That I ain't got 'em +all myself's a miracle." + +"You ought to have a district nurse and inspector/' said Geneviève, +amused, in spite of her indignation, at the dark picture presented. + +"Distric' nothin'," the other sneered. "There ain't nothin' here but +rent an' taxes--doggone if I don't quit. There's plenty to do this here +mindin' work, an' I bet I could make more at the factory. They're payin' +grand for overtime." + +Geneviève looked at the thin shoulders and narrow chest of the girl, +noted her growing pallor and wondered how long such a physique could +withstand the strain of hard work and overtime. She sighed. Something of +her thoughts must have shown in her face, for the girl reddened and +her lips tightened. Without another word she slammed the door in her +visitor's face. + +Mrs. Brewster-Smith cackled thin laughter. + +"That's what you get for interfering," she jeered, so angry with her +hostess for this forced inspection of her source of income that she +was ready to sacrifice the comforts of her extended visit to have the +satisfaction of airing her resentment. + +"Poor soul!" said Geneviève. "Thirty a month!" Her eyes ran over the +rows of crowded shacks. "The owners must get together and do something +here," she said. "These conditions are simply vile." + +"It's probably all these people are used to," Alys snapped, "And, +besides, if they went further into town it'd cost them the trolley both +ways, and all the time lost. It's the location they pay for. Mr. Alien +told me not two months ago he thought rents could be raised." + +"If you all co-operate," Genevieve continued her own line of thought, +"you could at least clean the place and make it _safe_ to live in, even +if they haven't any comforts." + +Her face brightened. Around the corner came the strong, solid figure of +Miss Eliot; behind her trotted a bespectacled young man who carried a +pigskin envelope under his arm and whose expression was far from happy. + +"Hello!" called Miss Eliot. "So you did come. I'm glad of it. Let me +present Mr. Glass to you. The department lent him to me for the day. And +what do you think of it, now that you can see it?" + +"Glad to meet you," said Genevieve, nodding to the health officer. "What +do I think of it? What does Mr. Glass think? That's more important. Oh, +let me present you--this is Mrs. Brewster-Smith." + +Miss Eliot's face showed no surprise, though her eyes twinkled, but Mr. +Glass was frankly taken aback. + +"Mrs. Brewster--Smith----Brewster--Smith," he stammered. "Oh--er--" he +gripped his pigskin folio as if about to search its contents to verify +the name. "The--er--the owner?" he inquired. + +Alys stiffened. "My dear husband left me this property. I have never +before seen it." + +"I'm very glad," beamed Mr. Glass, "to see that we shall have +your co-operation in our efforts to do something definite for this +section--and measures must be taken quickly. As you see, there is no +sanitation, no trenching, no mosquito-extermination plant. Malaria and +typhoid are prevalent; it's all very bad, very bad, indeed. And you'd +hardly believe, Mrs. Brewster-Smith, what difficulties we are having +with the owners as a class. The five biggest have formed an association. +I suppose you've heard about it. They must have made an effort to +interest you "--he stopped short, remembering that her name appeared on +the lists of the "Protective League." + +"Really"--Alys had recovered her hauteur and the aloofness becoming the +situation--"I know nothing whatever about what measures my agents have +thought it advisable to take." + +Mr. Glass choked and glanced uneasily at Miss Eliot. + +That lady grinned, almost the grin of a gamin. "You needn't look at +_me_, Mr. Glass. I don't represent Mrs. Brewster-Smith." + +"Oh, I know, I know," Mr. Glass hastened to exonerate his companion. + +"I believe Miss Eliot declined the honor," Genevieve's voice was heard. + +"I did," the agent affirmed. She laughed shortly. "Otherwise you would +hardly find me here in my present capacity. One does not 'run with the +hare and hunt with the hounds,' you know." + +Alys lost her temper. It seemed to her she was ruthlessly being forced +to shoulder responsibilities she had been taught to shirk as a sacred +feminine right. Therefore, feeling injured, she voiced her innocence. + +"Your husband, my dear Geneviève, has been good enough to administer my +little estate. Whatever he has done, or now plans to do, meets with _my_ +entire approval." + +The thrust went home in more directions than one. Miss Eliot turned +her frank gaze upon the speaker, while she slowly nodded her head as +if studying a perfect specimen of a noxious species. Mr. Glass gasped. +There was political material in the statement. He looked anxiously at +the wife of the gentleman implicated, but in her was no fear and no +manner of trembling. Instead, the light of battle shone in her eyes. + +"My dear Alys," she said, "my husband has told you that he is too busy a +man to give your affairs his personal attention. He can only advise you +and turn the executive side over to another. His experience does not +extend to the stock market or to real estate. It is an imposition to +throw your burdens upon him. If you derive benefits from ownership, you +must educate yourself to accept your duty to society." + +"Indeed!" flared Alys, furious at this public arraignment. "May I ask +if you intend to continue this insulting attitude?" "If you mean, do I +expect hereafter to be a live woman and not a parasite--I do." + +Mrs. Brewster-Smith turned on her heel and walked away, teetering over +the ruts and holes of the path. + +Genevieve looked distressed. "I'm sorry," she breathed, "I'm ashamed, +but it _had_ to come out. I--I couldn't stand it any longer. I--beg +everybody's pardon. I'm sure, it was awfully bad manners of me. Oh, +dear--" she faltered, half turned, and, with a gesture of appeal toward +Mrs. Brewster-Smith's slowly retreating back, moved as if to follow. + +"I wouldn't go after her," said E. Eliot. "Of course, you haven't had +experience. You don't know how much self-restraint you've got to build +up, but you're here now, and I'm sure Mr. Glass understands. _He's_ +got to come up against all sorts of exasperations on _his_ job, too. He +won't take any stock in Mrs. Brewster-Smith's trying to tie your husband +up to these wretched conditions. + +"He's looking forward to seeing an honest, public-spirited district +attorney get into office--even if your husband doesn't yet see that +women have anything to say about it. They may heckle him in order +to force him to come out on his intentions about the graft, and the +eight-hour day, and the enforcement of the law, but they don't doubt his +honesty. When he know's what's what, I guess the public can trust him to +do the right thing. Only he's got to be shown." + +As she talked, giving Geneviève time to recover from her upheaval, the +three investigators were plowing their way up and down byways equally +depressing and insanitary. Silence ensued. Occasionally an expression of +commiseration or condemnation escaped one or another of the party. + +Suddenly a raucous whistle tore the air, followed by another and +another, declaring the armistice of the noon hour. Iron gates in the +surrounding wall were opened, a stream of men and women poured out, +grimed, sweat-streaked and voluble. The two women and their escort +paused and watched the oncoming swarm of humanity. + +Around the corner, just ahead, strode a giant of a man, followed by a +red-faced, unkempt, familiar figure--the man in charge of the renting +office. The giant came forward threateningly. + +"What youse doing?" he growled. He jerked his jersey, displaying a brass +badge, P. A. Guard. + +"Git outer here--git," he called. + +Mr. Glass stepped forward, displaying his Health Department permit. The +giant laughed. + +"Say, sonny," he sneered, "that don't go--see. Them tin fakes don't git +by. If you're one of them guys, you come here wit' McLaughlin, and youse +can rubber. But we've had enough of this stuff. Them dames is no blind, +neither. I'm guard for the owners here, and we ain't takin' no chances +wit' trouble makers--git. Git a move on!" + +"The department," spluttered Glass, "shall hear of this." + +"That's all right. McLaughlin's the boss. Tell 'em not to send a kid to +do a man's job." + +Geneviève was too amazed to protest. It was her first experience of +defiance of Law and Order by Law and Order. + +Meanwhile, the first stragglers of the released army of toilers were +nearly upon them. The giant observed their approach, and the look of +menace deepened on his huge, congested face. + +"Move on, now--move on," he snarled, and herded them forward in advance +of the workers. + +Sheepishly the three obeyed, but Miss Eliot was not silent. + +"Your name?" she demanded in judicial command. + +The very terseness of her question seemed to jerk an unwilling answer +from the guard. + +"Michael Mehan." + +"And you're employed by the Owners' Protective League?" + +"Sure." + +"Have they given you orders to keep strangers out of the district?" + +"I have me orders, and I know what they be. I'm duly sworn in as extra +guard--and I'm not the only one, neither." + +"Did _he_ come after you?" Miss Eliot indicated the ruffian at his side. + +"I seen the lady owner blew the bunch," that worthy remarked with a +hoarse chuckle. "I wised Mike, all right. Whatcha goin' to do about it?" + +"Mrs. Brewster-Smith, the owner," Miss Eliot observed, "didn't seem to +know that she had employed you. How about that?" + +"I'm put here by the O.P.L. That's good enough fer yer lady +owner--now--ain't it? The things them nosey dames thinks they can git by +wit'!" he observed to the guard, and swore an oath that made Mr. Glass +turn to him with unexpected fury. + +"You may pretend to think that I'm not what I represent myself to be, +but let me tell you, McLaughlin is going to hear of this. One more +insult to these ladies and I'll make it my business to go personally to +your employers. Get me?" + +"Shut your trap, Jim," snarled Mehan. "Yer ain't got no orders fer no +fancy language." He leered at Geneviève. "Now we've shooed the chickens +out, we're tru'." With a wave of his huge paw he indicated the highway +the turn of the path revealed. + +Geneviève looked to the right, where the car should be waiting her. It +was gone. Evidently the indignant Mrs. Brewster-Smith had expedited the +departure. Miss Eliot read her discomfiture. + +"My car is right down here behind that palatial mansion with the hole +in the roof and the tin-can extension. Thank you very much for your +escort," she added, turning to the two representatives of the Protective +League. "My name, by the way, is E. Eliot. I am a real-estate agent and +my office is at 22 Braston Street. You might mention it in your report." + +The little car stood waiting, surrounded by a group of admiring +children. Its owner stepped in briskly, backed around and received her +passengers. + +"Well," she smiled as they drew out on the traveled highway, "how do you +like the purlieus of our noble little city?" + +Genevieve was silent. Then she spoke with conviction. + +"When George is in power--and he's _got_ to be--the Law will be the Law. +I know him." + + + + +CHAPTER XI. BY MARJORIE BENTON COOK + + +George Remington walked toward headquarters with more assurance than +he felt. He resented Doolittle's command that he appear at once. He was +beginning to realize the pressure which these campaign managers were +bringing to bear upon him. He was not sure yet how far he could go, in +out-and-out defiance of them and their dictates. + +He knew that he had absolutely no ambitions, no interests in common with +these schemers, whose sole idea lay in party patronage, in manipulating +every political opportunity--in short, in reaping where they had sown. +The question now confronting him was this: was he prepared to sell his +political birthright for the mess of pottage they offered him? + +He stood a second at the door of the office, peering through the +reeking, smoke-filled atmosphere, to get a bird's-eye view of the +situation before he entered. + +Mr. Doolittle sat on the edge of a table monologuing to Wes' Norton and +Pat Noonan. Mr. + +Norton was the president of the Whitewater Commercial Club, composed of +the leading merchants of the town, and Mr. Noonan was the apostle of the +liquor interests. Remington felt his back stiffen as he stepped among +them. + +"Good-evening, gentlemen," he said briskly. + +"H'are ye, George?" drawled Doolittle. + +"There was something you wanted to discuss with me?" + +"I dunno as there's anything to discuss, but there's a few things Wes' +an' Pat an' me'd like to say to ye. There ain't no two ways of thinkin' +about the prosperity of Whitewater, ye know, George. The merchants +in this town is satisfied with the way things is boomin'. The +factory workers is gittin' theirs, with high wages an' overtime. The +stockholders is makin' no kick on the dividends--as ye know, George, +being one of them. + +"Now, we don't want nuthin' to disturb all this If the fact'ries is +crackin' the law a bit, why, it ain't the first time such things has +got by the inspector. The fact'ry managers'd like some assurance from ye +that ye're goin' to keep yer hands off before they line up the fact'ry +hands to vote for ye." + +Doolittle paused here. George nodded. + +"When are ye comin' out with a plain statement of yer intentions, +George?" inquired Mr. Norton in a conciliatory tone. + +"The voters in this town will get a clear statement of my stand on all +the issues of this campaign in plenty of time, gentlemen." + +"That's all right fer the voter, but ye can't stall _us_ wit' that kind +of talk--" began Noonan. + +"Wait a minute, Pat," counseled Doolittle. "George means all right. He's +new to this game, but he means to stand fer the intrusts of his party, +don't ye, George?" + +"I should scarcely be the candidate of that party if I did not." + +"I ain't interested in no oratory. Are ye or are ye not goin' to keep +yer hands off the prosperity of Whitewater?" demanded Noonan angrily. + +"Look here, Noonan, I am the candidate for this office--you're not. I +intend to do as my conscience dictates. I will not be hampered at every +turn, nor told what to say and what to think. I must get to these things +in my own way." + +"Don't ye fergit that ye're _our_ candidate, that ye are to express the +opinion of the people who will elect ye, and not any dam' theories of +yer own----" + +"I think I get your meaning, Noonan." + +George spoke with a smile which for some reason disconcerted Noonan. He +sensed with considerable irritation the social and class breach between +himself and Remington, and while he did not understand it he resented +it. He called him "slick" to Wes' and Doolittle and loudly bewailed +their choice of him as candidate. + +"Then there's that P.L. bizness, Pat--don't fergit that," urged Wes'. + +"I ain't fergittin' it. There's too much nosin' round Kentwood district +by the women, George. Too much talkin'. Ye'd better call that off right +now. Property owners down there is satisfied, an' they got _their_ +rights, ye know." "I suppose you know what the conditions down there +are?" + +"Sure we know, George, and we want to clean it up down there just as +much as you do," said the pacific Doolittle; "but what we're sayin' is, +this ain't the time to do it. Later, mebbe, when the conditions is jest +right----" + +"Somebody has got the women stirred up fer fair. It's up to you to call +'em off, George," said Mr. Norton. + +"How can I call them off?"--tartly. + +"Ye can put the brakes on Mrs. Remington and that there Sheridan girl, +can't ye?" + +"Miss Sheridan is no longer in my employ. As for Mrs. Remington, if +she is not one in spirit with me, I cannot force her to be. Every human +being has a right to----" + +"Some change sence ye last expressed yerself, George. Seems like I +recall ye sayin', 'I'll settle that!'" remarked Doolittle coldly. + +"We will leave my wife's name out of the discussion, please," said +George with tardy but noble loyalty. "Well, them two I mentioned can +stir up some trouble; but they ain't the brains of their gang, by a +long shot. It's this E. Eliot we gotta deal with. She's as smart, if not +smarter, than any man in this town. She's smarter than you, George--or +me, either," he added consolingly. + +"I've seen her about, but I've never talked to her. What sort of woman +is she?" + +"Quiet, sensible kind. Ye keep thinking, 'How reasonable that woman is,' +till ye wake up and find she's got ye hooked on one of the horns of +yer own damfoolishness! Slick as they make 'em and straight as a +string--that's E. Eliot." + +"What do you want me to do about it?"--impatiently. + +"Are ye aimin' to answer them voiceless questions?" Pat inquired. + +Silence. + +"Plannin' to tear down Kentwood and enforce them factory laws?" demanded +Wes' Norton. + +Still no answer. + +"I'm jest callin' yer attention to the fact that this election is +gittin' nearer every day." "What am I to do with her? I can't afford to +show we're afraid of her." + +"Huh." + +"I can't bribe her to stop." + +"I'd like to see the fella that would try to bribe E. Eliot," Doolittle +chuckled. "Wouldn't be enough of him left to put in a teacup." + +"Then we've got to ignore her." + +"_We_ can ignore her, all right, George; but the women an' some of the +voters ain't ignoring her. It's my idea she's got a last card up her +sleeve to play the day before we go to the polls that'll fix us." + +"Have you any plan in your mind?" + +Doolittle scratched his head, wrestling with thought. + +"We was thinking that if she could be called away suddenly, and detained +till after election--" he began meaningly. + +"You mean----" + +"Something like that." + +"I won't have it, not if I lose the election. I won't stoop to +kidnapping a woman like a highwayman. What do you take me for, +Doolittle?" "Georgie, politics ain't no kid-glove bizness. It ain't +what _you_ want; you're jest a small part of this affair. You're _our_ +candidate, and we _got_ to win this here election. Do you get me?" + +He shot out his underjaw, and there was no sign of his usual good humor. + +"Well, but----" + +"You don't have to know anything about this. We'll handle it. You'll be +pertected to the limit; don't you worry," sneered Noonan. + +"But you can't get away with this old-fashioned stuff nowadays, +Doolittle," protested Remington. + +"Can't we? You jest leave it to your Uncle Benjamin. You don't know +nothing about this. See?" + +"I know it's a dirty, low, underhanded----" + +"George," remarked Mr. Doolittle, slowly hoisting his big body on to its +short legs, "in politics we don't call a spade a spade. We call it 'a +agricultural implument.'" + +With this sage remark Mr. Doolittle took his departure, followed by the +other prominent citizens. + +George sat where they left him, head in hands, for several moments. Then +he sprang up and rushed to the door to call them back. + +He would not stand it--he would not win at that price. He had conceded +everything they had demanded of him up to this point, but here he drew +the line. Ever since that one independent fling of his about suffrage +they had treated him like a naughty child. What did they think he was--a +rubber doll? He would telephone Doolittle that he would rather give up +his candidacy. Here he paused. + +Suppose he did withdraw, nobody would understand. The town would think +the women had frightened him off. He couldn't come out now and denounce +the machine methods of his party. Every eye in Whitewater was focused on +him; his friends were working for him; the district attorneyship was the +next step in his career; Geneviève expected him to win--no, he must go +through with it! But after he got into office, then he would show them! +He would take orders from no one. He sat down again and moodily surveyed +the future. + +In the days which followed, another mental struggle was taking place +in the Remington family. Poor Genevieve was like a woman struck by +lightning. She felt that her whole structure of life had crashed about +her ears. In one blinding flash she had seen and condemned George +because he considered political expediency. She realized that she must +think for herself now and not rely on him for the family celebration. +She had conceived her whole duty in life to consist in being George's +wife; but now, by a series of accidents, she had become aware of the +great social responsibilities, the larger human issues, which men and +women must meet together. + +Betty and E. Eliot had pointed out to her that she knew nothing of the +conditions in her own town. They assured her that it was as much her +duty to know about such things as to know the condition of her own back +yard. + +Then came the awful revelations of Kentwood--human beings huddled +like rats; children swarming, dirty and hungry! She could not bear to +remember the scenes she had witnessed in Kentwood. + +She recalled the shock of Alys Brewster-Smith's indifference to all that +misery! The widow's one instinct had seemed to be to fight E. Eliot and +the health officer for their interference. Stranger still, the tenants +did not want to be moved out, driven on. The whole situation was +confused, but in it at least one thing stood out clearly: Geneviève +realized, during the sleepless night after her visit to Kentwood, that +she hated Cousin Alys! + +The following Sunday, when she put on her coat, she found a souvenir +of that visit in her pocket, a soiled reminder of poverty and toil. She +remembered picking it up and noting that it was the factory pass of +one Marya Slavonsky. She had intended to leave it with some one in the +district, but evidently in the excitement of her enforced exit she had +thrust it into her pocket. + +This Marya worked in the factories. She was one of that grimy army +Geneviève had seen coming out of the factory gate, and she went home to +that pen which Cousin Alys provided. Marya was a girl of Genevieve's +own age, perhaps, while she, Geneviève, had this comfortable home, and +George! She had been blind, selfish, but she would make up for it, she +_would_! She would make a study of the needs of such people; she would +go among them like St. Agatha, scattering alms and wisdom. George might +have his work; she had found hers! She would begin with the factory +girls. She would waken them to what had so lately dawned on her. How +could she manage it? The rules of admission in the munition factories +were very strict. + +Then again her eye fell upon the soiled card and a great idea was born +in her brain. Dressed as a factory girl, she would use Marya's card to +get her into the circle of these new-found sisters. She would see how +and where they worked. She would report it all to the Forum and to +George. She could be of use to George at last. + +She remembered Betty's statement that at midnight in the factories the +women and girls had an hour off. That was the time she chose, with true +dramatic instinct. + +She rummaged in the attic for an hour, getting her costume ready. She +decided on an old black suit and a shawl which had belonged to her +mother. She carried these garments to her bedroom and hid them there. +Then, with Machiavellian finesse, she laid her plans. + +She would slip out of bed at half-past eleven o'clock, taking care not +to waken George, and she would dress and leave the house by the side +door. By walking fast she could reach by midnight the factory to which +she had admission. + +It annoyed her considerably to have George announce at luncheon that he +had a political dinner on for the evening and probably would not be home +before midnight. He grumbled a little over the dinner. "The campaign," +he said, "really ended yesterday. But Doolittle thought it was wise to +have a last round-up of the business men, and give them a final speech." + +Geneviève acquiesced with a sympathetic murmur, but she was +disappointed. Merely to walk calmly out of the house at eleven o'clock +lessened the excitement. However, she decided upon leaving George a note +explaining that she had gone to spend the night with Betty Sheridan. + +She looked forward to the long afternoon with impatience. Cousin Emelene +was taking her nap. Mrs. Brewster-Smith left immediately after lunch +to make a call on one of her few women friends. Genevieve tried to get +Betty on the telephone, but she was not at home. + +It was with a thrill of pleasure that she saw E. Eliot coming up the +walk to the door. She hurried downstairs just as the maid explained that +Mrs. Brewster-Smith was not at home. + +"Oh, won't you come in and see me for a moment, Miss Eliot?" Genevieve +begged. "I do so want to talk to you." + +E. Eliot hesitated. "The truth is, I am fearfully busy today, +even though it's Sunday. I wanted to get five minutes with Mrs. +Brewster-Smith about those cottages--" she began. + +Genevieve laid a detaining hand on her arm and led her into the +living-room. + +"She's hopeless! I can hardly bear to have her in my house after the way +she acted about those fearful places." + +"Well, all that district is the limit, of course. She isn't the only +landlord." + +"But she didn't _see_ those people." "She's human, I guess--didn't want +to see disturbing things." + +"I would have torn down those cottages with my own hands!" burst forth +Geneviève. + +E. Eliot stared. "No one likes her income cut down, you know," she +palliated. + +"Income! What is that to human decencies?" cried the newly awakened +apostle. + +"Your husband doesn't entirely agree with you in some of these matters, +I suppose." + +"Oh, yes he does, in his heart! But there's something about politics +that won't let you come right out and say what you think." + +"Not after you've come right out once and said the wrong thing," laughed +E. Eliot. "I'm afraid you will have to use your indirect influence on +him, Mrs. Remington." + +Geneviève threw her cards on the table. + +"Miss Eliot, I am just beginning to see how much there is for women to +do in the world. I want to do something big--the sort of thing you +and Betty Sheridan are doing--to rouse women. What can I do?" E. Eliot +scrutinized the ardent young face with amiable amusement. + +"You can't very well help us just now without hurting your husband's +chances and embarrassing him in the bargain. You see, we're trying to +embarrass him. We want him to kick over the traces and tell what he's +going to do as district attorney of this town." + +"But can't I do something that won't interfere with George? Couldn't I +investigate the factories, or organize the working girls?" + +"My child, have you ever organized anything?" exclaimed E. Eliot. + +"No." + +"Well, don't begin on the noble working girl. She doesn't organize +easily. Wait until the election is over. Then you come in on our schemes +and we'll teach you how to do things. But don't butt in now, I beg of +you. Misguided, well-meaning enthusiasts like you can do more harm to +our cause than all the anti-suffragists in this world!" + +With her genial, disarming smile, E. Eliot rose and departed. She +chuckled all the way back to her rooms over the idea of Remington's +bride wanting to take the field with the enemies of her wedded lord. + +"Women, women! God bless us, but we're funny!" mused E. Eliot. + +Genevieve liked her caller immensely, and she thought over her advice, +but she determined to let it make no difference in her plans. + +She saw her work cut out for her. She would not flinch! + +She would do her bit in the great cause of women--no, of humanity. The +flame of her purpose burned steadily and high. + +At a quarter-past eleven that night a slight, black-clad figure, with a +shawl over its head, softly closed the side door of the Remington house +and hurried down the street. Never before had Genevieve been alone on +the streets after dark. She had not foreseen how frightened she would be +at the long, dark stretches, nor how much more frightened when any one +passed her. Two men spoke to her. She sped on, turning now this way, now +that, without regard to direction--her eyes over her shoulder, in terror +lest she be followed. + +So it was that she plunged around a corner and into the very arms of E. +Eliot, who was sauntering home from a political meeting, where she had +been a much-advertised speaker. She was in the habit of prowling about +by herself. Tonight she was, as usual, unattended--unless one observed +two burly workingmen who walked slowly in her wake. + +"Oh, I beg your pardon," came a gently modulated voice from behind the +shawl. E. Eliot stared. + +"No harm done here. Did I hurt you?" she replied. + +She thought she heard an involuntary "Oh!" from beneath the shawl. + +"No, thanks. Could you tell me how to get to the Whitewater Arms and +Munitions Factory? I'm all turned around." + +"Certainly. Two blocks that way to the State Road, and half a mile north +on that. Shall I walk to the road with you?" + +"Oh, no, thank you," the girl answered and hurried on. E. Eliot stood +and watched her. Where had she heard that voice? She knew a good many +girls who worked at the factories, but none of them spoke like that. +All at once a memory came to her: "Couldn't I investigate something, or +organize the working girls?" Mrs. George Remington! + +"The little fool," ejaculated the other woman, and turned promptly to +follow the flying figure. + +The two burly gentlemen in the rear also turned and followed, but E. +Eliot was too busy planning how to manage Mrs. Remington to notice them. +She had to walk rapidly to keep her quarry in sight. As she came +within some thirty yards of the gate she saw Genevieve challenge the +gatekeeper, present her card and slip inside, the gate clanging to +behind her. + +E. Eliot broke into a jog trot, rounded the corner of the wall, pulled +herself up quickly, using the stones of the wall as footholds. She hung +from the top and let herself drop softly inside, standing perfectly +still in the shadow. At the same moment the two burly gentlemen ran +round the corner and saw nothing. "I told ye to run--" began one of them +fiercely. + +"Aw, shut up. If she went over here, she'll come out here. We'll wait." + +The midnight gong and the noise of the women shuffling out into the +courtyard drowned that conversation for E. Eliot. She stood and watched +the gatekeeper saunter indoors, not waiting for the man who relieved him +on duty. She watched Genevieve go forward and meet the factory hands. + +The newcomer shyly spoke to the first group. The eavesdropper could not +hear what she said. But the crowd gathered about the speaker, shuffling, +chaffing, finally listening. Somebody captured the gatekeeper's stool +and Geneviève stood on it. + +"What I want to tell you is how beautiful it is for women to stand +together and work together to make the world better," she began. + +"Say, what is your job?" demanded a girl, suspicious of the soft voice +and modulated speech. + +"Well, I--I only keep house now. But I intend to begin to do a great +deal for the community, for all of you----" "She keeps house--poor +little overworked thing!" + +"But the point is, not what you do, but the spirit you do it in----" + +"What is this, a revival meetin'?" + +"So I want to tell you what the women of this town mean to do." + +"Hear! Hear! Listen at the suffragette!" + +"First, we mean to clean up the Kentwood district. You all know how +awful those cottages are." + +"Sure; we live in 'em!" + +"We intend to force the landlords to tear them down and improve all that +district." + +"Much obliged, lady, and where do we go?" demanded one of her listeners. + +"You must have better living conditions." + +"But where? Rents in this town has boomed since the war began. Ain't +that got to you yet? There ain't no place left fer the poor." + +"Then we must find places and make them healthy and beautiful." + +"For the love of Mike! She's talkin' about heaven, ain't she?" "She's +talkin' through her hat!" cried another. + +"Then, we mean to make the factories obey the laws. They have no right +to make you girls work here at night." + +"Who's makin' us?" + +"We are going to force the factories to obey the letter of the law on +our statute books." + +A thin, flushed girl stepped out of the crowd and faced her. + +"Say, who is 'we'?" + +"Why, all of us, the women of Whitewater." + +"How are we goin' to repay the women of Whitewater fer tearin' down our +homes an' takin' away our jobs? Ain't there somethin' we can do to show +our gratitood?" the new speaker asked earnestly. + +"Go to it--let her have it, Mamie Flynn!" cried the crowd. + +"Oh, but you mustn't look at it that way! We must all make some +sacrifices----" + +"Cut that slush! What do you know about sacrifices? I'm on to you. +You're one of them uptown reformers. What do you know about sacrifices? +Ye got a sure place to sleep, ain't ye? Ye've got a full belly an' a +husband to give ye spendin' money, ain't ye? Don't ye come down here +gittin' our jobs away an' then fergettin' all about us!" + +There was a buzz of agreement and an undertone of anger which to an +experienced speaker would have been ominous. But Geneviève blundered on: +"We only want to help you----" + +"We don't want yer help ner yer advice. You keep yer hands off our +business! Do yer preachin' uptown--that's where they need it. Ask the +landlords of Kentwood and the stockholders in the munition factories to +make some sacrifices, an' see where that gits ye! But don't ye come down +here, a-spyin' on us, ye dirty----" + +The last words were happily lost as the crowd of girls closed in on +Geneviève with cries of "Spy!" "Scab!" "Throw her out!" + +They had nearly torn her clothes off before E. Eliot was among them. She +sprang up on the chair and shouted: + +"Girls--here, hold on a minute." + +There was a hush. Some one called out: "It's Miss E. Eliot." "Listen a +minute. Don't waste your time getting mad at this girl. She's a friend +of mine. And you may not believe me, but she means all right." + +"What's she pussyfootin' in here for?" + +"Don't you know the story of the man from Pittsburgh who died and went +on?" cried E. Eliot. "Some kindly spirit showed him round the place, +and the newcomer said: 'Well, I don't think heaven's got anything on +Pittsburgh.' 'This isn't heaven!' said the spirit." + +There was a second's pause, and then the laugh came. + +"Now, this girl has just waked up to the fact that Whitewater isn't +heaven, and she thought you'd like to hear the news! I'll take the poor +lamb home, put cracked ice on her head and let her sleep it off." + +They laughed again. + +"Go to it," said the erstwhile spokeswoman for the working girls. + +E. Eliot called them a cheery good-night. The factory girls drifted +away, in little groups, leaving Geneviève, bedraggled and hysterical, +clinging to her rescuer. + +"They would have killed me if you hadn't come!" she gasped. + +E. Eliot thought quickly. + +"Stand here in the shadow of the fence till I come back," she said. "It +will be all right. I've got to run into the office and send a telephone +message. I have a pal there who will let me do it." + +"You--you won't be long?" + +It was clear that the nerve of Mrs. Remington was quite gone. + +"I won't be gone five minutes." + +E. Eliot was as good as her word. + +When she returned she seized the stool on which her companion had made +her maiden speech--ran to the wall, placed it at the spot where she had +made her entrance and urged Geneviève to climb up and drop over; as she +obeyed, E. Eliot mounted beside her. They dropped off, almost at the +same moment--into arms upheld to catch them. + +Geneviève screamed, and was promptly choked. "What'll we do with this +extra one?" asked a hoarse voice. + +"Bring her. There's no time to waste now. If ye yell again, ye'll both +be strangled," the second speaker added as he led the way toward the +road, where the dimmed lights of a motor car shone. + +He was carrying E. Eliot as if she were a doll. Behind him his assistant +stumbled along, bearing, less easily but no less firmly, the, wife of +the candidate for district attorney! + + + + +CHAPTER XII. BY WILLIAM ALLEN WHITE + + +As the two gagged women--one comfortably gagged with more or less +pleasant bandages made and provided, the other gagged by the large, +smelly hand of an entire stranger to Mrs. George Remington--whom she was +trying impolitely to bite, by way of introduction--were speeding through +the night, Mr. George Remington, ending a long and late speech before +the Whitewater Business Men's Club, was saying these things: + +"I especially deplore this modern tendency to talk as though there +were two kinds of people in this country--those interested in good +government, and those interested in bad government. We are all good +Americans. We are all interested in good government. Some of us believe +good government may be achieved through a protective tariff and a proper +consideration for prosperity [cheers], and others, in their blindness, +bow down to wood and stone!" + +He smiled amiably at the laughter, and continued: + +"But while some of us see things differently as to means, our aims are +essentially the same. You don't divide people according to trades and +callings. I deplore this attempt to set the patriotic merchant against +the patriotic saloonkeeper; the patriotic follower of the race track +against the patriotic manufacturer. + +"Here is my good friend, Benjie Doolittle. When he played the ponies +in the old days, before he went into the undertaking and furniture +business, was he less patriotic than now? Was he less patriotic then +than my Uncle Martin Jaffry is now, with all his manufacturer's interest +in a stable government? And is my Uncle Martin Jaffry more patriotic +than Pat Noonan? Or is Pat less patriotic than our substantial merchant, +Wesley Norton? + +"Down with this talk that would make lines of moral and patriotic +cleavage along lines of vocation or calling. I want no votes of those +who pretend that the good Americans should vote in one box and the bad +Americans in another box. I want the votes of those of all castes and +cults who believe in prosperity [loud cheers], and I want the votes +of those who believe in the glorious traditions of our party, its +magnificent principles, its martyred heroes, its deathless name in our +history!" + +It was, of course, an after-dinner speech. Being the last speech of the +campaign it was also a highly important one. But George Remington felt, +as he sat listening to the din of the applause, that he had answered +rather neatly those who said he was wabbling on the local economic issue +and was swaying in the wind of socialist agitation which the women had +started in Whitewater. + +As he left the hotel where the dinner had been given, he met his partner +on the sidewalk. + +"Get in, Penny," he urged, jumping into his car. "Come out to the house +for the night, and we'll have Betty over to breakfast. Then she and +Geneviève and you and I will see if we can't restore the _ante-bellum +modus vivendi_! Come on! Emelene and Alys always breakfast in bed, +anyway, and it will be no trouble to get Betty over." The two men rode +home in complacent silence. It was long past midnight. They sat on the +veranda to finish their cigars before going into the house. + +"Penny," asked George suddenly, "what has Pat Noonan got in this game--I +mean against the agitation by the women and this investigation of +conditions in Kentwood? Why should he agonize over it?" + +"Is he fussing about it?" + +"Is he? Do you think I'd tie his name up in a public speech with Martin +Jaffry if Pat wasn't off the reservation? You could see him swell +up like a pizened pup when I did it! I hope Uncle Martin will not be +offended." + +"He's a good sport, George. But say--what did Pat do to give you this +hunch?" + +Remington smoked in meditative silence, then answered: + +"Well, Penny, I had to raise the devil of a row the other day to keep +Pat from ribbing up Benjie Doolittle and the organization to a frame-up +to kidnap this Eliot person." + +"Kidnap E. Eliot!" gasped the amazed Evans. "Kidnap that very pest. And +I tell you, man, if I hadn't roared like a stuck ox they would have done +it! Fancy introducing 'Prisoner of Zenda' stuff into the campaign in +Whitewater! Though I will say this, Penny, as between old army friends +and college chums," continued Mr. Remington earnestly, "if a warrior +bold with spurs of gold, who was slightly near-sighted and not +particular about his love being so damned young and fair, would swoop +down and carry this E. Eliot off to his princely donjon, and would let +down the portcullis for two days, until the election is over, it would +help some! Though otherwise I don't wish her any bad luck!" + +The old army friend and college chum laughed. + +"Well, that's your end of the story! I'm mighty glad you stopped it. +Here's my end. You remember two-fingered Moll, who was our first client? +The one who insisted on being referred to as a lady? The one who got +converted and quit the game and who thought she was being pursued by the +racetrack gang because she was trying to live decent?" + +George smiled in remembrance. "Well, she called me up to know if there +was any penalty for renting a house to Mike the Goat and his wife and +old Salubrious the Armenian, who had a lady friend they were keeping +from the cops against her will. She said they weren't going to hurt the +lady, and I could see her every day to prove it. I advised her to keep +out of it, of course; but she was strong for it, because of what she +called the big money. I explained carefully that if anything should +happen, her past reputation would go against her. But she kept saying it +was straight, until I absolutely forbade her to do it, and she promised +not to." + +"Mike and his woman, and Old Salubrious!" echoed Remington. "And E. +Eliot locked up with them for two days!" + +He shivered, partly at the memory of his own mealy-mouthed protest. + +"Well," he said, and there was an air of finality in his tone, "I'm glad +I stopped the whole infamous business." + +Mentally he decided to get Noonan on the telephone the first thing in +the morning and make certain that the plan was abandoned. He continued +his chat with Evans. + +"But, Penny, why this agonizing of Noonan? What has he to lose by the +better conditions in Kentwood? Why should he----" + +Outside of a neat white dwelling in the suburbs of Whitewater, four +figures were struggling in the night toward a vine-covered door--that +door which appeared so attractively in the _Welfare Bulletin_ of the +Toledo Blade Steel Company's publicity program as the "prize garden home +of J. Agricola, roller." + +A woman stood in the doorway, holding the door open. Two women, who had +been carried by two men, from an automobile at the gate, were forced +through. There the men left them with their hostess. + +"I was only looking for one of yez," she said, hospitably, "but you're +bote welcome. Now, ladies, I'm goin' to make you comfortable. It won't +do no good to scream, so I'm goin' to take your gags off. And I hope +you, lady, haven't been inconvenienced by a handkerchief. We could just +as well have arranged for your comfort, too." + +"Madam," gasped E. Eliot, who was the first to be released to speech, +"it is unimportant who I am. But do you know that this woman with me +is Mrs. George Remington, the wife of the candidate for district +attorney--Mr. George Remington of Whitewater? There has been a mistake." + +The hostess looked at Genevieve, who nodded a tearful confirmation. But +the woman only smiled. + +"My man don't make mistakes," she said laconically. "And, what's more to +the point, miss, he's a friend of George Remington, and why should he +be giving his lady a vacation? You are E. Eliot, and your friends think +you're workin' too hard, so they're goin' to give you a nice rest. +Nothin' will happen to you if you are a lady, as I think you are. And +when I find out who this other lady is, we'll make her as welcome as +you!" + +She went out of the room, locking the door behind her as the two women +struggled vainly with their bonds. In an instant she returned. + +"My man says to tell the one who thinks she's Mrs. George Remington that +she's spendin' the week-end with Mrs. Napoleon Boneypart." My man +says he's a good friend of George Remington and is supportin' him for +district attorney, and that's how he can make it so pleasant here. + +"And I'll tell you something else," she continued proudly. "When George +got married, it was my man that went up and down Smoky Row and seen +all the girls and got 'em to give a dollar apiece for them lovely roses +labeled 'The Young Men's Republican Club.' Mr. Doolittle he seen to +that. My man really collected fifty dollars more'n he turned in, and I +got a diamond-set wrist watch with it! So, you see, we're real friendly +with them Remingtons, and we're glad to see you, Mrs. Remington!" + +"Oh, how horrible!" cried Geneviève. "There were eight dozen of those +roses from the Young Men's Republican Club, and to think---Oh, to +think----" + +"Well, now, George," cried Mr. Penfield Evans, "just stop and think. Use +your bean, my boy! What is the one thing on earth that puts the fear of +God into Pat Noonan? It's prohibition. Look at the prohibition map out +West and at the suffrage map out West. They fit each other like the +paper on the wall. Whatever women may lack in intelligence about some +things, there is one thing woman knows--high and low, rich and poor! +She knows that the saloon is her enemy, and she hits it; and Pat Noonan, +seeing this rise of women investigating industry, makes common cause +with Martin Jaffry and the whole employing class of Whitewater against +the nosey interference of women. + +"And Pat Noonan is depending on you," continued Evans. "He expects you +to rise. He expects you to go to Congress--possibly to the Senate, and +he figures that he wants to be dead sure you'll not get to truckling to +decency on the liquor question. So he ties you up--or tries you out for +a tie-up or a kidnapping; and Benjie Doolittle, who likes a sporting +event, takes a chance that you'll stand hitched in a plan to rid the +community of a political pest without seriously hurting the pest--a +friendless old maid who won't be missed for a day or two, and whose +disappearance can be hushed up one way or another after she appears too +late for the election. + +"Just figure things out, George. Do you think Noonan got Mike the Goat +to assess the girls on the row a dollar apiece for your flowers from the +Young Men's Republican Club, for his health! You had the grace to thank +Pat, but if you didn't know where they came from," explained Mr. Evans +cynically, "it was because you have forgotten where all Pat's floral +offerings from the Y.M.R.C. come from at weddings and funerals! And Pat +feels that you're his kind of people. + +"Politics, George, is not the chocolate éclair that you might think it, +if you didn't know it! Use your bean, my boy! Use your bean! And you'll +see why Pat Noonan lines up with the rugged captains of industry who are +the bulwarks of our American liberty. Pat uses his head for something +more than a hatrack." + +The two puffed for a time in silence. Finally the host said: "Well, +let's turn in." Three minutes later George called across the upper hall +to Penfield. + +"The joke's on us, Penny. Here's a note saying that Geneviève is over +with Betty for the night. We'll call her up after breakfast and have +them both over to a surprise party." + +Penny strolled across to his friend's door. He was disappointed, and he +showed it. He found George sitting on the side of his bed. + +"Penny," mused the Young Man in Politics, in his finest mood, "you know +I sometimes think that, perhaps, way down deep, there is something wrong +with our politics. I don't like to be hooked up with Noonan and his +gang. And I don't like the way Noonan and his gang are hooked up with +Wesley Norton and the silk stockings and Uncle Martin and the big +fellows. Why can't we get rid of the Noonan influence? They aren't after +the things we're after! They only furnish the unthinking votes that make +majorities that elect the fellows the big crooks handle. Lord, man, it's +a dirty mess! And why women want to get into the dirty mess is more than +I can see." "What a sweet valedictory address you are making for a young +ladies' school!" scoffed Penny. "The hills are green far off! Aren't you +the Sweet Young Thing. But I'll tell you why the women want to get in, +George. They think they want to clean up the mess." + +"But would they clean it? Wouldn't they vote about as we vote?" + +"Well," answered Mr. Evans with the cynicism of the judicial mind, +"let's see. You know now, if you didn't know at the time, that Noonan +got Mike the Goat to assess the disorderly houses for the money to buy +your wedding roses from the Y.M.R.C. All right. Noonan's bartender is +on the ticket with you as assemblyman. Are you going to vote for him or +not?" + +"But, Penny, I've just about got to vote for him." + +"All right, then. I'll tell Geneviève the truth about Noonan and the +flowers, and I'll ask her if she would feel that she had to vote for +Noonan's bartender!" retorted Mr. Evans. "Giving women the ballot will +help at least that much. If the Noonans stay in politics, they'll get no +help from the women when they vote!" + +"But aren't we protecting the women?" + + * * * * * + +"Anyway, Mrs. Remington," said E. Eliot comfortably, "I'm glad it +happened just this way. Without you, they would hold me until after the +election on Tuesday. With you, about tomorrow at ten o'clock we shall +be released. E. Eliot alone they have made every provision for holding. +They have started a scandal, I don't doubt, necessary to explain my +absence, and pulled the political wires to keep me from making a fuss +about it afterward. They know their man in the district attorney's +office, and----" + +"Do you mean George Remington?" This from his wife, with flashing eyes. + +"I mean," explained E. Eliot unabashed, "that for some reason they feel +safe with George Remington in the district attorney's office, or they +would not kidnap me to prevent his defeat! That is the cold-blooded +situation." + +"This party," E. Eliot smiled, "is given at the country home of Mike +the Goat, as nearly as I can figure it out. Mike is a right-hand man +of Noonan. Noonan is a right-hand man of Benjie Doolittle and Wesley +Norton, and they are all a part of the system that holds Martin Jaffry's +industries under the amiable beneficence of our sacred protective +tariff! Hail, hail, the gang's all here--what do we care now, my dear? +And because you are here and are part of the heaven-born combination +for the public good, I am content to go through the rigors of one night +without a nightie for the sake of the cause!" + +"But they don't know who I am!" protested Mrs. Remington. "And----" + +"Exactly, and for that reason they don't know who you are not. Tomorrow +the whole town will be looking for you, and Noonan will hear who you are +and where you are. Then! Say, girl--_say, girl,_ it _will_ be grist for +our mill! Fancy the headlines all over the United States: + +'GANG KIDNAPS CANDIDATE'S WIFE MYSTERY SHROUDS PLOT CANDIDATE REMINGTON +IS SILENT.'" + +"But he won't be silent," protested the indignant Geneviève. + +"I tell you, he'll denounce it from the platform. He'll never let this +outrage----" + +"Well, my dear," said the imperturbable E. Eliot, "when he denounces +this plot he'll have to denounce Doolittle and Noonan, and probably +Norton, and maybe his Uncle Martin Jaffry. Somebody is paying big money +for this job! I said the headlines will declare: + +'CANDIDATE REMINGTON is SILENT But Still Maintains That Women Are +Protected from Rigors of Cruel World by Man's Chivalry.'" + +"Oh, Miss Eliot, don't! How can you? Oh, I know George will not let this +outrage----" + +"Of course not," hooted E. Eliot. "The sturdy oak will support the +clinging vine! But while he is doing it he will be defeated. And if he +doesn't protest he will be defeated, for I shall talk!" + +"George Remington will face defeat like a gentleman, Miss Eliot; have no +fear of that. He will speak out, no matter what happens." "And when he +speaks, when he tells the truth about this whole alliance between +the greedy, ruthless rich and the brutal, vicious dregs of this +community--our cause is won!" + + * * * * * + +The next morning George Remington reached from his bed for his telephone +and called up the Sheridan residence. Two minutes later Penfield Evans +heard a shout. At his door stood the unclad and pallid candidate for +district attorney. + +"Penny," he gasped, "Genevieve's not there! She has not been with Betty +all night. And Betty has gone out to find E. Eliot, who is missing from +her boarding-house!" + +"Are you sure----" + +"God--Penny--I thought I had stopped it!" + +George was back in his room, flying into his clothes. The two men were +talking loudly. From down the hall a sleepy voice--unmistakably Mrs. +Brewster-Smith's--was drawling: + +"George--George--are you awake? I didn't hear you come in. Dear +Geneviève went over to stay all night with Cousin Betty, and the oddest +thing happened. About midnight the telephone bell rang, and that odious +Eliot person called you up!" + +George was in the hall in an instant and before Mrs. Brewster-Smith's +door. + +"Well, well, for God's sake, what did she say!" he cried. + +"Oh, yes, I was coming to that. She said to send your chauffeur with +the car down to the--oh, I forget, some nasty factory or something, +for Genevieve. She said Genevieve was down there talking to the factory +girls. Fancy that, George! So I just put up the receiver. I knew +Genevieve was with Betty Sheridan and not with that odious person at +all--it was some ruse to get your car and compromise you. Fancy dear +Genevieve talking to the factory girls at midnight!" + +Penfield Evans and George Remington, standing in the hall, listened to +these words with terror in their hearts. + +"Get Noonan first," said George. "I'll talk to him." + +In five seconds Evans had Noonan's residence. Remington listened to +Penny's voice. "Gone," he was saying. "Gone where?" And then: "Why, he +was at the dinner last---What's Doolittle's number?" ("Noonan went to +New York on the midnight train," he threw at George.) A moment later +Remington heard his partner cry, "Doolittle's gone to New York? On the +midnight train?" + +"Try Norton," snapped George. Soon he heard Penny exclaim. "Albany?" +said Penny. "Mr. Norton is in Albany? Thank you!" + +"Their alibis!" said Evans calmly, as he hung up the receiver and stared +at his partner. + +"Well, it--it----Why, Penny, they've stolen Geneviève! That damned +Mike and the Armenian! They've got Geneviève with that Eliot woman! +God----Why, Penny, for God's sake, what----" + +"Slowly, George--slowly. Let's move carefully." + +The voice of Penfield Evans was cool and steady, + +"First of all, we need not worry about any harm coming to Geneviève. She +is with Miss Eliot, and that woman has more sense than a man. She may be +depended upon. Now, then," Evans waved his partner to silence and went +on: "the next thing to consider is how much publicity we shall give this +episode." He paused. + +"It's not a matter of publicity; it's a matter of getting Geneviève +immediately." + +"An hour or so of publicity of the screaming, hysterical kind will not +help us to find Geneviève. But when we do find her, our publicity will +have defeated you!" + +The two men stared at each other. Remington said: "You mean I must +shield the organization!" + +"If you are to be elected--yes!" + +"Do you think Geneviève and Miss Eliot would consent to shield the +organization when we find them? Why, Penny, you're mad! We must call up +the chief of police! We must scour the country! I propose to go right +to the newspapers! The more people who know of this dastardly thing the +sooner we shall recover the victims!" + +"And the sooner Noonan, when he comes home tonight, will denounce you as +an accessory before the fact, with Norton and Doolittle as corroborating +witnesses for him! Oh, you're learning politics fast, George!" + +The thought of what Genevieve would say when she knew, through Noonan +and Doolittle, that he had heard of the plot to kidnap Miss Eliot, +and within an hour had talked to his wife casually at luncheon without +saying anything about it, made George's heart stop. He realized that he +was learning something more than politics. He walked the floor of the +room. + +"Well," he said at last, "let's call in Uncle Martin Jaffry. He----" + +"Yes; he is probably paying for the job. He might know something! I'll +get him." + +"Paying for the job! Do you think he knew of this plot?" cried George as +Evans stood at the telephone. + +"Oh, no. He just knew, in a leer from Doolittle, that they had +extraordinary need for Eve thousand dollars or so in your behalf--that +they had consulted you. And then Doolittle winked and Noonan cocked his +head rakishly, and Uncle Martin put--Hello, Mr. Jaffry. This is Penny. +Dress and come down to the office quickly. We are in serious trouble." + +Twenty minutes later Uncle Martin was sitting with the two young men in +the office of Remington and Evans. When they explained the situation to +him his dry little face screwed up. + +"Well, at least Geneviève will be all right," he muttered. "E. Eliot +will take care of her. But, boys--boys," he squeezed his hands and +rocked in misery, "the devil of it is that I gave Doolittle the money in +a check and then went and got another check from the Owners' Protective +Association and took the peak load off myself, and Doolittle was with +me when I got the P. A. check. We've simply got to protect him. And, of +course, what he knows, Noonan knows. We can't go tearing up Jack here, +calling police and raising the town!" + +George Remington rose. + +"Then I've got to let my wife lie in some dive with that unspeakable +Turk and that Mike the Goat while you men dicker with the scoundrels who +committed this crime!" he said. "My God, every minute is precious! We +must act. Let me call the chief of police and the sheriff----" + +"All dear friends of Noonan's," Penny quietly reminded him. "They +probably have the same tip about what is on as you and Uncle Martin +have! Calm down, George! First, let me go out and learn when Noonan and +Doolittle are coming home! When we know that, we can----" + +"Penny, I can't wait. I must act now. I must denounce the whole damnable +plot to the people of this country. I must not rest one second longer in +silence as an accessory. I shall denounce----" + +"Yes, George, you shall denounce," exclaimed his partner. "But just +whom--yourself, that you did not warn Miss Eliot all day yesterday!" + +"Yes," cried Remington, "first of all, myself as a coward!" + +"All right. Next, then, your Uncle Martin Jaffry, who was earnestly +trying to help you in the only way he knew how to help! Why, George, +that would be----" "That would be the least I could do to let the people +see----" + +"To let the people see that Mrs. Brewster-Smith and all your social +friends in this town are associated with Mike the Goat and his gang----" + +Before Evans could finish, his partner stopped him. + +"Yes, yes--the whole damned system of greed! The rich greed and the poor +greed--our criminal classes plotting to keep justice from the decent +law-abiding people of the place, who are led like sheep to the +slaughter. What did the owners pay that money for? Not for the dirty job +that was turned--not primarily. But to elect me, because they thought +I would not enforce the factory laws and the housing laws and would +protect them in their larceny! That money Uncle Martin collected was my +price--my price!" + +He was standing before his friends, rigid and white in rage. Neither man +answered him. + +"And because the moral sense of the community was in the hearts and +heads of the women of the community," he went on, "those who are +upholding the immoral compact between business and politics had to +attack the womanhood of the town--and Genevieve's peril is my share in +the shame. By God, I'm through!" + + + +CHAPTER XIII. BY MARY AUSTIN + + +Close on Young Remington's groan of utter disillusionment came a sound +from the street, formless and clumsy, but brought to a sharp climax with +the crash of breaking glass. + +Even through the closed window which Penfield Evans hastily threw up, +there was an obvious quality to the disturbance which revealed its +character even before they had grasped its import. + +The street was still full of morning shadows, with here and there +a dancing glimmer on the cobbles of the still level sun, caught on +swinging dinner pails as the loosely assorted crowd drifted toward shop +and factory. + +In many of the windows half-drawn blinds marked where spruce window +trimmers added last touches to masterpieces created overnight, but +directly opposite nothing screened the offense of the Voiceless Speech, +which continued to display its accusing questions to the passer-by. + +Clean through the plate-glass front a stone had crashed, leaving a heap +of shining splinters, on either side of which a score of men and boys +loosely clustered, while further down a ripple of disturbance marked +where the thrower of the stone had just vanished into some recognized +port of safety. + +It was a clumsy crowd, half-hearted, moved chiefly by a cruel delight +in destruction for its own sake, and giving voice at intervals to +coarse comment of which the wittiest penetrated through a stream +of profanity, like one of those same splinters of glass, to the +consciousness of at least two of the three men who hung listening in the +window above: + +"To hell with the----suffragists!" + +At the same moment another stone hurled through the break sent the +Voiceless Speech toppling; it lay crumpled in a pathetic feminine sort +of heap, subject to ribald laughter, but Penny Evans' involuntary cry +of protest was cut off by his partner's hand on his shoulder. "They're +Noonan's men, Penny; it's a put-up job." + +George had marked some of the crowd at the meetings Noonan had arranged +for him, and the last touch to the perfunctory character of the +disturbance was added by the leisurely stroll of the policeman turning +in at the head of the street. Before he reached the crowd it had +redissolved into the rapidly filling thoroughfare. + +"It's no use, Penny. Our women have seen the light and beaten us to it; +we've got to go with them or with Noonan and his--Mike the Goat!" + +Recollection of his wife's plight cut him like a knife. "The +Brewster-Smith women have got to choose for themselves!" He felt about +for his hat like a man blind with purpose. + +The street sweeper was taking up the fragments of the shattered windows +half an hour later, when Martin Jaffry found himself going rather +aimlessly along Main Street with a feeling that the bottom had recently +dropped out of things--a sensation which, if the truth must be told, +was greatly augmented by the fact that he hadn't yet breakfasted. He had +remained behind the two younger men to get into communication with Betty +Sheridan and ask her to stay close to the telephone in case Miss Eliot +should again attempt to get into touch with her. He lingered still, +dreading to go into any of the places where he was known lest he should +somehow be led to commit himself embarrassingly on the subject of his +nephew's candidacy. + +His middle-aged jauntiness considerably awry, he moved slowly down the +heedless street, subject to the most gloomy reflections. Like most men, +Martin Jaffry had always been dimly aware that the fabric of society is +held together by a system of mutual weaknesses and condonings, but he +had always thought of himself and his own family as moving freely in the +interstices, peculiarly exempt, under Providence, from strain. Now +here they were, in such a position that the first stumbling foot might +tighten them all into inextricable scandal. + +It is true that Penny, at the last moment, had prevailed on George +to put off the relief of his feelings by public repudiation of his +political connections, at least until after a conference with the +police. And to George's fear that the newspapers would get the news from +the police before he had had a chance to repudiate, he had countered +with a suggestion, drawn from an item in the private history of the +chief--known to him through his father's business--which he felt certain +would quicken the chief's sense of the propriety of keeping George's +predicament from the press. + +"My God!" said George in amazement, and Martin Jaffry had responded +fervently with "O Lord!" + +Not because it shocked him to think that there might be indiscretions +known to the lawyer of a chief of police which the chief might not wish +known to the world, but because, with the addition of this new coil to +his nephew's affairs, he was suddenly struck with the possibility of +still other coils in any one of which the saving element of indiscretion +might be wanting. + +Suppose they should come upon one, just one impregnable honesty, one +soul whom the fear of exposure left unshaken. On such a possibility +rested the exemption of the Jaffry-Remingtons. It was the reference to +E. Eliot in his instructions to Betty which had awakened in Jaffry's +mind the disquieting reflection that just here might prove such an +impregnability. They probably wouldn't be able to "do anything" with E. +Eliot simply because she herself had never done anything she was afraid +to go to the public about. To do him justice, it never occurred to him +that in the case of a lady it was easily possible to invent something +which would be made to answer in place of an indiscretion. + +Probably that was Martin Jaffry's own impregnability--that he wouldn't +have lied about a lady to save himself. What he did conclude was that +it was just this unbending quality of women, this failure to provide the +saving weakness, which unfitted them for political life. + +He shuddered, seeing the whole fabric of politics fall in ruins around +an electorate composed largely of E. Eliots, feeling himself stripped +of everything that had so far distinguished him from the Noonans and the +Doolittles. + +Out of his sudden need for reinstatement with himself, he raised in his +mind the vision of woman as the men of Martin Jaffry's world conceived +her--a tender, enveloping medium in which male complacency, unchecked +by any breath of criticism, reaches its perfect flower--the flower whose +fruit, eaten in secret and afar from the soil which nourishes it, is +graft, corruption and civic incompetence. + +Instinctively his need directed him toward the Remington place. + +Mrs. Brewster-Smith was glad to see him. Between George's hurried +departure and Jaffry's return several of the specters that haunt such +women's lives looked boldly in at the window. + +There was the specter of scandal, as it touched the Remingtons, touching +that dearest purchase of femininity, social standing; there was the +specter of poverty, which threatened from the exposure of the source of +her income and the enforcement of the law; nearer and quite as poignant, +was the specter of an ignominious retreat from the comfort of George +Remington's house to her former lodging, which she was shrewd enough to +realize would follow close on the return of her cousin's wife. + +All morning she had beaten off the invisible host with that +courage--worthy of a better cause--with which women of her class +confront the assaults of reality; and the sight of Martin Jaffry coming +up the broad front walk met her like a warm waft of security. She flung +open the door and met him with just that mixture of deference and relief +which the situation demanded. + +She was terribly anxious about poor Geneviève, of course, but not +so anxious that she couldn't perceive how Genevieve's poor uncle had +suffered. + +"What, no breakfast! Oh, you poor man! Come right out into the +dining-room." + +Mrs. Brewster-Smith might have her limitations, but she was entirely +aware of the appeasing effect of an open fire and a spread cloth +even when no meal is in sight; she was adept in the art of enveloping +tenderness and the extent to which it may be augmented by the pleasing +aroma of ham and eggs and the coffee which she made herself. And oh, +those _poor_ women, what _disaster_ they were bringing on themselves by +their prying into things that were better left to more competent minds, +and what pain to _other_ minds! So _selfish_, but of course they didn't +realize. Really she hoped it would be a lesson to Geneviève. The dear +girl was so changed that she didn't see how she was going to go on +living with her; though, of course, she would like to stand by dear +George--and a woman did so appreciate a home! + +At this point the enveloping tenderness of Mrs. Brewster-Smith +concentrated in her fine eyes, just brushed the heart of her listener +as with a passing wing, hovered a moment, and dropped demurely to the +tablecloth. + +In the meantime two sorely perplexed citizens were grappling with the +problem of the disappearance of two highly respectable women from their +homes under circumstances calculated to give the greatest anxiety to +faithful "party" men. It hadn't needed Penny's professional acquaintance +with Chief Buckley to impress the need of secrecy on that official's +soul. "Squeal" on Noonan or Mike the Goat? Not if he knew himself. +Naturally Mr. Remington must have his wife, but at the same time it was +important to proceed regularly. + +"And the day before election, too!" mourned the chief. "Lord, what a +mess! But keep cool, Mr. Remington; this will come out all right!" + +After half an hour of such ineptitudes, Penfield Evans found it +necessary to withdraw his partner from the vicinity of the police before +his impatience reached the homicidal pitch. + +"Buckley's no such fool as he sounds," Penny advised. "He probably has a +pretty good idea where the women are hidden, but you must give him time +to tip off Mike for a getaway." + +But the suggestion proved ill chosen, at least so far as it involved a +hope of keeping George from the newspapers. Shocked to the core of his +young egotism as he had been, Remington was yet not so shocked that +the need of expression was not stronger in him than any more distant +consideration. + +"Getaway!" he frothed. "Getaway! While a woman like my wife--" But the +bare idea was too much for him. + +"They may get away, but they'll not get off--not a damned one of +them--of _us_," he corrected himself, and with face working the popular +young candidate for district attorney set off almost on a run for the +office of the Sentinel. + +Reflecting that if his friend was bent upon official suicide, there was +still no reason for his being, a witness to it, Penny turned aside into +a telephone booth and called up Betty Sheridan. He heard her jump at +the sound of his voice, and the rising breath of relief running into his +name. + +"O-o-oh, Penny! Yes, about twenty minutes ago. Geneviève is with her.... +Oh, yes, I'm sure." + +Her voice sounded strong and confident. + +"They're in a house about an hour from the factory," she went on, "among +some trees. I'm sure she said trees. We were cut off. No, I couldn't get +her again.... Yes... it's a party line. In the Redfield district. Oh, +Penny, do you think they'll do her any harm?" + +It was, no doubt, the length of time it took to assure Miss Sheridan on +this point that prevented Evans from getting around to the _Sentinel_, +whose editor was at that moment giving an excellent exhibition of +indecision between his obligation as a journalist and his rôle of +leading citizen in a town where he met his subscribers at dinner. + +It was good stuff--oh, it was good! What headlines! + +PROMINENT SOCIETY WOMEN KIDNAPPED + +CANDIDATE REMINGTON REPUDIATES PARTY! + +It was good for a double evening edition. On the other hand, there was +Norton, one of his largest advertisers. There was also the rival city +of Hamilton, which was even now basely attempting to win away from +Whitewater a recently offered Carnegie library on the ground of its +superior fitness. + +Finally there was the party. + +The _Sentinel_ had always been a sound party organ. But _what_ a scoop! +And suppose it were possible to save the party at the expense of +its worst element? Suppose they raised the cry of reform and brought +Remington in on a full tide of public indignation? + +Would Mike stand the gaff? If it were made worth his while. But what +about Noonan and Doolittle? So the editorial mind shuttled to and fro +amid the confused outpourings of the amazed young candidate, while with +eyes bright and considering as a rat's the editor followed Remington in +his pacings up and down the dusty, littered room. + +Completely occupied with his own reactions, George's repudiation swept +on in an angry, rapid stream which, as it spent itself, began to give +place to the benumbing consciousness of a divided hearing. + +Until this moment Remington had had a pleasant sense of the press as +a fine instrument upon which he had played with increasing mastery, a +trumpet upon which, as his mind filled with commendable purposes, +he could blow a very pretty tune,--a noble tune with now and then a +graceful flourish acceptable to the public ear. Now as he talked he +began to be aware of flatness, of squeaking keys.... + +"Naturally, Mr. Remington, I'll have to take this up with the business +management..." dry-lipped, the tune sputtered out. At this juncture the +born journalist awaked again in the editorial breast at the entrance of +Penfield Evans with his new item of Betty's interrupted message. + +Two women shut up in a mysterious house among the trees! Oh, hot stuff, +indeed! + +Under it George rallied, recovered a little of the candidate's manner. + +"Understand," he insisted. "This goes in even if I have to pay for it at +advertising rates." + +A swift pencil raced across the paper as Remington's partner swept him +off again to the police. + +Betty's call had come a few minutes before ten. What had happened was +very simple. + +The two women had been given breakfast, for which their hands had been +momentarily freed. When the bonds had been tied again it had been easy +for E. Eliot to hold her hands in such a position that she was left, +when their keeper withdrew, with a little freedom of movement. + +By backing up to the knob she had been able to open a door into an +adjoining room, in which she had been able to make out a telephone on a +stand against the wall. + +This room also had locked windows and closed shutters, but her quick wit +had enabled her to make use of that telephone. + +Shouldering the receiver out of the hook, she had called Betty's number, +and, with Geneviève stooping to listen at the dangling receiver, had +called out two or three broken sentences. + +Guarded as their voices had been, however, some one in the house had +been attracted by them, and the wire had been cut at some point outside +the room. E. Eliot and Geneviève came to this conclusion after having +lost Betty and failed to raise any answer to their repeated calls. +Somebody came and looked in at them through the half-open door, and, +seeing them still bound, had gone away again with a short, contemptuous +laugh. + +"No matter," said E. Eliot. "Betty heard us, and the central office will +be able to trace the call." + +It was because she could depend on Betty's intelligence, she went on to +say, that she had called her instead of the Remington house--for suppose +that fool Brewster-Smith woman had come to the telephone! + +She and Geneviève occupied themselves with their bonds, fumbling back +to back for a while, until Geneviève had a brilliant idea. Kneeling, +she bit at the cords which held Miss Eliot's wrists until they began to +give. + + * * * * * + +What Betty had done intelligently was nothing to what she had done +without meaning it. She had been unkind to Pudge. Young Sheridan was in +a condition which, according to his own way of looking at it, demanded +the utmost kindness. + +Following a too free indulgence in _marrons glacés_ he had been +relegated to a diet that reduced him to the extremity of desperation. + +Not only had he been forbidden to eat sweets, but while his soul still +longed for its accustomed solace, his stomach refused it, and he was +unable to eat a box of candied fruit which he had with the greatest +ingenuity secured. + +And that was the occasion Betty took--herself full of nervous starts and +mysterious recourse to the telephone behind locked doors--to remind him +cruelly that he was getting flabby from staying too much in the house +and to recommend a long walk for his good. + +It was plain that she would stick at nothing to get her brother out of +the way, and Pudge was cut to the heart. + +Oh, well, he would go for a walk, from which he would probably be +brought home a limp and helpless cripple. Come to think of it, if he +once got started to walk he was not sure he would ever turn back; he +would just walk on and on into a kinder environment than this. + +After all, it is impossible to walk in that fateful way in a crowded +city thoroughfare. Besides, one passes so many confectioners with their +mingled temptation and disgust. Pudge rode on the trolley as far as +the city limits. Here there was softer ground underfoot and a hint +of melancholy in the fields. A flock of crows going over gave the +appropriate note. + +Off there to the left, set back from the road among dark, crowding +trees, stood a mysterious house. Pudge always insisted that he had +known it for mysterious at the first glance. It had a mansard roof and +shutters of a sickly green, all closed; there was not a sign of life +about, but smoke issued from one of the chimneys. + +Here was an item potent to raise the sleuth that slumbers in every boy, +even in such well-cushioned bosoms as Pudge Sheridan's. + +He paused in his walk, fell into an elaborately careless slouch, and +tacked across the open country toward the back of the house. Here he +discovered a considerable yard fenced with high boards that had once +been painted the same sickly green as the shutters, and a great buckeye +tree just outside, spreading its branches over the corner furthest from +the house. + +Toward this post of observation he was drifting with that fine +assumption of aimlessness which can be managed on occasion by almost any +boy, when he was arrested by a slight but unmistakable shaking of one of +the shutters, as though some one from within were trying the fastenings. + +The shaking stopped after a moment, and then, one after another, the +slats of the double leaves were seen to turn and close as though for a +secret survey of the field. After a moment or two this performance was +repeated at the next window on the left, and finally at a third. + +Here the shaking was resumed after the survey, and ended with the +shutter opening with a snap and being caught back from within and +held cautiously on the crack. Pudge kicked clods in his path and was +pretentiously occupied with a dead beetle which he had picked up. + +All at once something flickered across the ground at his feet, swung two +or three times, touched his shoe, traveled up the length of his trousers +and rested on his breast. How that bosom leaped to the adventure! + +He fished hurriedly in his pocket and brought up a small round mirror. +It had still attached to its rim a bit of the ribbon by which it had +been fastened to his sister's shopping bag, from which, if the truth +must be told, he had surreptitiously detached it. + +Pretending to consult it, as though it were some sort of pocket oracle, +Pudge flashed back, and presently had the satisfaction of seeing a +bright fleck of light travel across the shutter. Immediately there was +a responsive flicker from the window: one, two, three, he counted, and +flashed back: one, two, three. + +Pudge's whole being was suffused with delicious thrills. He wished now +he had obeyed that oft-experienced presentiment and learned the Morse +code; it was a thing no man destined for adventure should be without. +This wordless interchange went on for a few moments, and then a hand, +a woman's hand--O fair, imprisoned ladies of all time!--appeared +cautiously at the open shutter, waved and pointed. + +It pointed toward the buckeye tree. Pudge threw a stone in that +direction and sauntered after it, pitching and throwing. Once at the +corner, after a suitable exhibition of casualness, he climbed until he +found himself higher than the fence, facing the house. + +While he was thus occupied, things had been happening there. The shutter +had been thrown back and a woman was climbing down by the help of a +window ledge below and a pair of knotted window curtains. + +Another woman prepared to follow her, gesticulating forcibly to the +other not to wait, but to run. Run she did, but it was not until Pudge, +lying full length on the buckeye bough, reached her a hand that he +discovered her to be his sister's friend, Geneviève Remington. + +In the interval of her scrambling up by the aid of the bent bough and +such help as he could give her, they had neglected to observe the other +woman. Now, as Mrs. Remington's heels drummed on the outside of the +fence, Pudge was aware of some commotion in the direction of the house, +and saw Miss Eliot running toward him, crying: "Run, run!" while two +men pursued her. She made a desperate jump toward the tree, caught +the branch, hung for a moment, lost her hold, and brought Pudge +ignominiously down in a heap beside her. + +If Miss Eliot had not contradicted it, Pudge would have believed to his +dying day that bullets hurtled through the air; it was so necessary to +the dramatic character of the adventure that there should be bullets. +He recovered from the shock of his fall in time to hear Miss Eliot +say: "Better not touch me, Mike; if there's so much as a bruise when my +friends find me, you'll get sent up for it." + +Her cool, even tones cut the man's stream of profanity like a knife. +He came threateningly close to her, but refrained from laying hands on +either of them. + +Meantime his companion drew himself up to the top of the fence for a +look over, and dropped back with a gesture intended to be reassuring. +Pudge rose gloriously to the occasion. + +"The others have gone back to call the police," he announced. Mike spat +out an oath at him, but it was easy to see that he was not at all sure +that this might not be the case. The possibility that it might be, +checked a movement to pursue the fleeing Geneviève. Miss Eliot caught +their indecision with a flying shaft. + +"Mrs. George Remington," she said, "will probably be in communication +with her friends very shortly. And between his wife and his old and dear +friend Mike it won't take George Remington long to choose." + +This was so obvious that it left the men nothing to say. They fell in +surlily on either side of her, and without any show of resistance she +walked calmly back toward the house. Pudge lingered, uncertain of his +cue. + +"Beat it, you putty-face!" Mike snarled at him, showing a yellow fang. +"If you ain't off the premises in about two shakes, you'll get what's +comin' to you. See?" + +Pudge walked with as much dignity as he could muster in the direction +of the public road. He could see nothing of Mrs. Remington in either +direction; now and then a private motor whizzed by, but there was no +other house near enough to suggest a possibility of calling for help. + +He concealed himself in a group of black locusts and waited. In about +half an hour he heard a car coming from the house with the mansard roof, +and saw that it held three occupants, two men and a woman. The men +he recognized, and he was certain that the woman, though she was well +bundled up, was not E. Eliot. + +The motor turned away from the town and disappeared in the opposite +direction. Pudge surmised that Mike was making his getaway. He waited +another half hour and began to be assailed by the pangs of hunger. The +house gave no sign; even the smoke from the chimney stopped. + +He was sure Miss Eliot was still there; imagination pictured her +weltering in her own gore. Between fear and curiosity and the saving +hope that there might be food of some sort in the house, Pudge left his +hiding place and began a stealthy approach. + +He came to the low stoop and crept up to the closed front door. Hovering +between fear and courage, he knocked. But there was no response. With +growing boldness he tried the door. It was locked. + +The rear door also was bolted; but, creeping on, he found a high +side window that the keepers of this prison in their hasty flight had +forgotten to close. With the aid of an empty rain barrel, which he +overturned and rolled into position, Pudge scrambled with much hard +breathing through the window and dropped into the kitchen. Here he +listened; his ears could discern no sound. On tiptoe he crept through +the rooms of the first floor--but came upon neither furtive enemy nor +imprisoned friend. Up the narrow stairway he crept--peeped into +three bedrooms--and finally opening the door of what was evidently a +storeroom, he found the object of his search. + +E. Eliot sat in an old splint-bottomed chair--gagged, arms tied behind +her and to the chair's back, and her ankles tied to the chair's legs. In +a moment Pudge had the knotted towel out of her mouth, and had cut her +bonds. But quick though Pudge was, to her he seemed intolerably slow; +just then E. Eliot was thinking of only one thing. + +This was the final afternoon of the campaign and she was away out here, +far from all the great things that might be going on. + +She gave a single stretch of her cramped muscles as she rose. "I know +you--you're Betty Sheridan's brother--thanks," she said briskly. "What +time is it?" + +Pudge drew out his most esteemed possession, a watch which kept perfect +time--except when it refused to keep any time at all. + +"Three o'clock," he announced. + +"Then our last demonstration is under way, and when I tell my story--" +E. Eliot interrupted herself. "Come on--let's catch the trolley!" + +With Pudge panting after her, she hurried downstairs, unbolted the door, +and, running lightly on the balls of her feet, sped in the direction of +the street car line. + + + +CHAPTER XIV. BY LEROY SCOTT + + +In the meantime, concern and suspense and irruptive wrath had their +chief abode in the inner room of Remington and Evans. George had +received a request, through Penny Evans, from the chief of police to +remain in his office, where he could be reached instantly if information +concerning Geneviève were received, and where his help could instantly +be secured were it required; and Penny had enlarged that request to the +magnitude of a command and had stood by to see that it was obeyed, and +himself to give assistance. + +George had recognized the sense of the order, but he rebelled at the +enforced inactivity. Where was Geneviève?--why wasn't he out doing +something for her? He strode about the office, fuming, sick with the +suspense and inaction of his rôle. + +But Geneviève was not his unbroken concern. He was still afire with the +high resentment which a few hours earlier had made him go striding into +the office of the _Sentinel_. Fragments of his statement to the editor +leaped into his mind; and as he strode up and down he repeated phrases +silently, but with fierce emphasis of the soul. + +Now and again he paused at his window and looked down into Main Street. +Below him was a crowd that was growing in size and disorder: the last +afternoon of any campaign in Whitewater was exciting enough; much more +so were the final hours of this campaign that marked the first entrance +of women into politics in Whitewater on a scale and with an organized +energy that might affect the outcome of the morrow's voting. + +Across the way, Mrs. Herrington, the fighting blood of five generations +of patriots roused in her, had reinstated the Voiceless Speech within +the plate-glass window broken by the stones of that morning and was +herself operating it; and, armed with banners, groups of women from +the Woman's Club, the Municipal League and the Suffrage Society +were marching up and down the street sidewalks. It was their final +demonstration, their last chance to assert the demands of good +citizenship--and it had attracted hundreds of curious men, vote-owners, +belonging to what, in such periods of political struggle, are referred +to on platforms as "our better element." + +Also drifting into Main Street were groups of voters of less +prepossessing aspect--Noonan's men, George recognized them to be. These +jeered and jostled the marching women and hooted the remarks of the +Voiceless Speech--but the women, disregarding insults and attacks, went +on with their silent campaigning. The feeling was high--and George could +see, as Noonan's men kept drifting into Main Street, that feeling was +growing higher. + +Looking down, George felt an angered exultation. Well, his statement in +the _Sentinel_, due upon the street almost any moment, would answer all +these and give them something to think about!--a statement which would +make an even greater stir than the declaration which he had issued +those many weeks ago, when, fresh from his honeymoon, he had begun his +campaign for the district attorneyship.--[Illustration: Across the way, +Mrs. Herrington, the fighting blood of five generations of patriots +roused in her, had reinstated the Voiceless Speech.] These people below +certainly had a jolt coming to them! + +George's impatient and glowering meditations--the hour was then near +four--were broken in upon by several interruptions, which came on him in +quick succession, as though detonated by brief-interval time-fuses. The +first was the entrance of that straw-haired misspeller of his letters +who had succeeded Betty Sheridan as guardian of the outer office. + +"Mr. Doolittle is here," she announced. "He says he wants to see you." + +"You tell Mr. Doolittle _I_ don't want to see _him_!" commanded the +irritated George. + +But Mr. Benjamin Doolittle was already seeing his candidate. As +political boss of his party, he had little regard for such a formality +as being announced to any person on whom he might call--so he had walked +through the open door. + +"Well, what d'you want, Doolittle?" George demanded aggressively. + +Mr. Doolittle's face wore that look of bland solicitude, that +unobtrusive partnership in the misfortune of others, which had made +him such an admirable and prosperous officiant at the last rites of +residents of Whitewater. + +"I just wanted to ask you, George--" he was beginning in his soft, +lily-of-the-valley voice, when the telephone on George's desk started +ringing. George turned and reached for it, to find that Penny had +already picked up the instrument. + +"I'll answer it, George.... Hello... Mr. Remington is here, but is busy; +I'll speak for him--I'm Mr. Evans.... What--it's you! Where are you?... +Stay where you are; I'll come right over for you in my car." + +"Who was that?" demanded George. + +"Geneviève," Penny said rapidly, seizing his hat, "and I'm going----" + +"So am I!" exclaimed George. + +"Not till we've had a little understanding," sharply put in Doolittle, +blocking his way. + +"Stay here, George," his partner snapped out--"she's perfectly +safe--just a little out of breath--telephoned from a drug store over in +the Red-field district. I'll have her back here in fifteen minutes." And +out Penny dashed, slamming the door. + +But perhaps it was the straw-haired successor of Betty Sheridan who +really prevented George from plunging after his partner. + +"You ordered the _Sentinel_ sent up as soon as it was out," she said. +"Here are six copies." + +George seized the ink-damp papers, and as the straw-haired one walked +out in rubber-heeled silence he turned savagely upon his campaign +manager. + +"Well, Doolittle?" he demanded. + +"I just want to ask you, George----" + +George exploded. "Oh, you just want to ask me! Well, everything you want +to ask me is answered in that paper. Read it!" + +Doolittle took the copy of the _Sentinel_ which was thrust into his +hands. George watched him with triumphant grimness, awaiting the effect +of the bomb about to explode in the other's face. Mr. Doolittle unfolded +the _Sentinel_--looked it slowly through--then raised his eyes +to George. His face seemed somewhat puzzled, but otherwise it was +overspread with that sympathetic concern which, as much as his hearse +and his folding-chairs, was a part of his professional equipment. + +"Why, George. I don't just get what you're driving at." + +Forgetting that he was holding several copies of the Sentinel, George +dropped them all upon the floor and seized the paper from Mr. Doolittle. +He glanced swiftly over the first page--and experienced the highest +voltage shock of his young public career. Feverishly he skimmed the +remaining pages. But of all that he had poured out in the office of the +_Sentinel_, not one word was in print. + +Automatically clutching the paper in a hand that fell to his side, he +stared blankly at his campaign manager. Mr. Doolittle gazed back with +his air of sympathetic concern, bewildered questioning in his eyes. And +for a space, despite the increasing uproar down in the street, there was +a most perfect silence in the inner office of Remington and Evans. + +Before either of the two men could speak, the door was violently flung +open and Martin Jaffry appeared. His clothing was disarranged, his +manner agitated--in striking contrast to the dapper and composed +appearance usual to that middle-aged little gentleman. + +"George," he panted, "heard anything about Geneviève?" + +"She's safe. Penny's got charge of her by this time." + +His answer was almost mechanical. + +"Thank God!" Uncle Martin collapsed in one of the office chairs. +"Mind--if sit here minute--get my breath." + +George did not reply, for he had not heard. He was gazing steadily at +Mr. Doolittle; some great, but as yet shapeless, force was surging up +dazingly within him. But he somehow held himself in control. + +"Well, Doolittle," he demanded, "you said you came to ask something." + +Mr. Doolittle's manner was still propitiatingly bland. "I'll mention +something else first, George, if you don't mind. You just remarked I'd +find your answer in the _Sentinel_. There must 'a' been some little +slip-up somewhere. So I guess I better mention first that the _Sentinel_ +has arranged to stand ready to get out an extra." + +"An extra! What for?" + +"Principally, George, I reckon to print those answers you just spoke +of." + +George still kept that mounting something under his control. "Answers to +what?" + +"Why, George," the other replied softly, persuasively. "I guess we'd +better have a little chat--as man to man--about politics. Meaning no +offense, George, stalling is all right in politics--but this time +you've carried this stalling act a little too far. As the result of your +tactics, George, why here's all this disorder in our streets--and the +afternoon before election. If you'd only really tried to stop these +messing women----" + +"I didn't try to stop them by kidnapping them!" burst from George--and +Uncle Martin, his breath recovered, now sat up, clutching his homespun +cap. + +"Kidnapping women?" queried the bland, bewildered voice of the party +boss. "I say, George, I don't know what you're talking about." "Why, +you--" But George caught himself. "Speak it out, Doolittle--what do you +want?" + +"Since you ask it so frankly, George, I'll try to put it plain: You +been going along handing out high-sounding generalities. There's nothing +better and safer than generalities--usually. But this ain't no usual +case, George. These women, stirring everything up, have got the solid +interests so unsettled that they don't know where they're at--or where +you're at. And a lot of boys in the organization feel the same way. What +the crisis needs, George, is a plain statement of your intentions as +district attorney, which we can get into that _Sentinel_ extra and which +will reassure the public--and the organization." + +"A plain statement?" There was a grim set to George's jaw. + +"Oh, it needn't go into too many details. Just what you might call a +ringing declaration about this being the greatest era of prosperity +Whitewater has ever known, and that you conceive it to be the duty of +your administration to protect and stimulate this prosperity. The people +will understand, and the organization will understand. I guess you get +what I mean, George." + +"Yes, I get what you mean!" exploded George, his fist crashing upon the +table. "You mean you want me to be a complacent accessory to all the +legal evasions that you and your political gang and the rich bunch +behind you may want to get away with! You want me to be a crook in +office! By God, Doolittle----" + +"Shut up, Remington," snapped the political boss, his soft manner now +vanished, his whole aspect now grimly menacing. "I know the rest of what +you're going to say. I was pretty certain what it 'ud be before I came +here, but I had to know for sure. Well, I know now, all right!" + +His lank jaws snapped again. + +"Since you are not going to represent the people that put you up, I +demand your written withdrawal as candidate for the district attorney's +office." + +"And I refuse to give it!" cried George. "I was nominated by a +convention, not by you. And I don't believe the party is as crooked as +you--anyhow I'm going to give the decent members of the party a chance +to vote decently! And you can't remove me from the ballot, either, for +the ballot is already printed and----" + +"That'll do you no----" + +"I thought some time ago I was through with this political mess," George +drove on. "But, Doolittle, damn you, I've just begun to get in it! And +I'm going to see it through to the finish!" + +Suddenly a thin little figure thrust itself between the bellicose pair +and began shaking George's hand. It was Martin Jaffry. + +"George--I guess I'm my share of an old scoundrel--and a trimmer--but +hearing some one stand up and talk man's talk--" He broke off to shake +George's hand again. "I thought you were the king of boobs--but, boy, +I'm with you to wherever you want to go--if my money will last that +far!" + +"Keep out of this, Jaffry," roughly growled Doolittle. "It's too late +for your dough to help this young pup. Remington, we may not take you +off the ballot, but the organization kin send out word to the boys----" + +"To knife me! Of course, I expect that! All right--go to it! But I'm on +the ballot--you can't deprive people of the chance of voting for me. And +I shall announce myself an independent and shall run as one!" + +"We may not be able to elect our own nominee," harshly continued +Doolittle, "but we kin send out word to back the Democratic candidate. +Miller ain't much, but, at least, he's a soft man. And that _Sentinel_ +extra is going to say that a feeling has spread among the respectable +element that it has lost confidence in you, and is going to say that +prominent party members feel the party has made a mistake in ever +putting you up. So run, damn you--run as a Democrat, a Republican, an +Independent--but how are you going to git it across to the public in a +way to do yourself any good--without backing? How are you going to git +it across to the public?" + +His last words, flung out with overmastering fury, brought George up +short, and he saw this. Doolittle's wrath had mounted to that pitch +which should never be reached by the resentment of a practical +politician; it had attained such force that it drove him on to taunt his +man. "How are you going to git it before the public?" he again demanded, +eyes agleam with triumphant rancor--"with us shutting you off and +hammering you on one side?--and them damned messy women across the +street hammering you from the other side? Oh, it's a grand chance you +have--one little old grand chance! Especially with those dear damned +females loving you like they do! Jest take a look at what the bunch over +there are doing to you!" + +Doolittle followed his own taunting suggestion; and George, too, glanced +through his window across the crowded street into the shattered window +whence issued the Voiceless Speech. In that jagged frame in the raw +November air still stood Mrs. Harvey Herrington, turning the giant +leaves of her soundless oratory. The heckling request which then struck +George's eyes began: "_Will Candidate Remington answer_----" + +George Remington read no more. His already tense figure suddenly +stiffened; he caught a sharp breath. Then, without a word to the two men +with him, he seized his hat and dashed from his office. The street was +even more a turbulent human sea, with violently twisting eddies, than +had appeared from George's windows. It seemed that every member of the +organizations whom Mrs. Herrington (and also Betty Sheridan, and later +E. Eliot, and, at the last, Geneviève) had brought into this fight, were +now downtown for the supreme effort. And it seemed that there were now +more of the so-called "better citizens." Certainly there were more of +Noonan's men, and these were still elbowing and jostling, and making +little mass rushes--yet otherwise holding themselves ominously in +control. + +Into this milling assemblage George flung himself, so dominated by the +fiery urge within him that he did not hear Geneviève call to him from +Penny's car, which just then swung around the corner and came to a sharp +stop on the skirts of the crowd. George shouldered his way irresistibly +through this mass; the methods of his football days when he had been +famed as a line-plunging back instinctively returned--and, all the +fine chivalry forgotten which had given to his initial statement to the +voters of Whitewater so noble a sound, he battered aside many of those +"fairest flowers of our civilization, to protect whom it is man's duty +and inspiration." + +His lunging progress followed by curses and startled cries of feminine +indignation, he at length emerged upon the opposite sidewalk, and, +breathless and disheveled, he burst into the headquarters of the +Voiceless Speech. + +Some half-dozen of Mrs. Herrington's assistants cried out at his abrupt +entrance. Mrs. Herrington, forward beside the speech, turned quickly +about. + +"Mr. Remington, you here!" she cried in amazement as he strode toward +her. "What--what do you want?" + +"I want--I want--" gasped George. But instead of finishing his sentence +he elbowed Mrs. Herrington out of the way, shoved past her, and stepped +forth in front of the Voiceless Speech. There, standing in the frame of +jagged plate-glass, upon what was equivalent to a platform raised +above the crowd, he sent forth a speech which had a voice. "Ladies and +gentlemen!" he called, raising an imperative hand. The uproar subsided +to numerous exclamations, then to surprised silence; even Noonan's men +checked their disorder at this appearance of their party's candidate. + +"Ladies and gentlemen," and this Voiceful Speech was loud,--"I'm here +to answer the questions of this contrivance behind me. But first let +me tell you that though I'm on the ballot as the candidate of the +Republican party, I do not want the backing of the Republican machine. +I'm running as an Independent, and I shall act as an Independent. + +"Here are my answers: + +"I want to tell you that I shall enforce all the factory laws. + +"I want to tell you that I shall enforce the laws governing housing +conditions--particularly housing conditions in the factory district. + +"I want to tell you that I shall enforce the laws governing child labor +and the laws governing the labor of women. + +"And I want to tell you that I shall enforce every other law, and shall +try to secure the passage of further laws, which will make Whitewater +a clean, forward-looking city, whose first consideration shall be the +welfare of all. + +"And, ladies and gentlemen--" he shouted, for the hushed voices had +begun to rise--"I wish I could address you all as fellow-voters!--I +want to tell you that I take back that foolish statement I made at the +opening of the campaign. + +"I want to tell you that I stand for, and shall fight for, equal +suffrage! + +"And I want to tell you that what has brought this change is what some +of the women of White-water have shown me--and also some of the things +our men politicians have done--our Doolittles, our Noonans----" + +But George's speech terminated right there. Noise there had been before; +now there burst out an uproar, and there came an artillery attack of +eggs, vegetables, stones and bricks. One of the bricks struck George on +the shoulder and drove him staggering back against the Voiceless Speech, +sending that instrument of silent argument crashing to the floor. +Regaining his balance, George started furiously back for the window; but +Mrs. Herrington caught his arm. + +"Let me go!" he called, trying to shake her off. + +But she held on. "Don't--you've said enough!" she cried, and pulled him +toward the rear of the room. "Look!" + +Through the window was coming a heavier fire of impromptu grenades that +rolled, spent, at their feet. But what they saw without was far more +stirring and important. Noonan's men in the crowd, their hoodlumism now +unleashed, were bowling over the people about them; but these really +constituted Noonan's outposts and advance guards. + +From out of two side streets, though George and Mrs. Herrington could +not see their first appearance upon the scene, Noonan's real army +now came charging into Main Street, as per that gentleman's grim +instructions to "show them messin' women what it means to mess in +politics." Hundreds of Whitewater's women were flung about, many +sent sprawling to the pavement, and some hundreds of the city's most +respectable voters, caught unawares, were hustled about and knocked down +by the same ruthless drive. + +"My God!" cried George, impulsively starting forward. "The damned +brutes!" + +But Mrs. Herrington still held his arm. "Come on--they're making a drive +for this office!" breathlessly cried the quick-minded lady. "You can do +no good here. Out the rear way--my car's waiting in the back street." + +Still clutching his sleeve, Mrs. Herrington opened a door and ran across +the back yard of McMonigal's building in a manner which indicated that +that lady had not spent her college years (and similarly spent the years +since then propped among embroidered cushions consuming marshmallows and +fudge.) + +The lot crossed, she hurried through a little grocery and thence into +the street. Here they ran into a party that, seeing the riot on Main +Street and the drive upon the window from which George had spoken, had +rushed up reinforcements from the rear--a party consisting of Penny, +E. Eliot, Betty Sheridan and Geneviève. "Geneviève!" cried George, and +caught her into his arms. + +"Oh, George," she choked. "I--I heard it all--and it--it was simply +wonderful!" + +"George," cried Betty Sheridan, "I always knew, if you got the right +kind of a jolt, you'd be--you'd be what you are!" + +E. Eliot gripped his hand in a clasp almost as strong as George's arm. +"Mr. Remington, if I were a man, I'd like to have the same sort of stuff +in me." + +"George, you old roughneck--" began Penny. + +"George," interrupted Geneviève, still chokingly, her protective, wifely +instinct now at the fore, "I saw you hit, and we're going to take you +straight home----" + +"Cut it all out," interrupted the cultured Mrs. Herrington. "This isn't +Mr. Remington's honeymoon--nor his college reunion--nor the annual +convention of his maiden aunts. This is Mr. Remington's campaign, and +I'm his new campaign manager. And his campaign manager says he's not +going away out to his home on Sheridan Road. His campaign headquarters +are going to be in the center of town, at the Commercial Hotel, where he +can be reached--for there's quick work ahead of us. Come on." + +Five minutes later they were all in the Commercial Hotel's best suite. + +"Now, to business, Mr. Remington," briskly began Mrs. Herrington. "Of +course, that was a good speech. But why, in heaven's name, didn't you +come out with it before?" + +"I guess I really didn't know where I stood until today," confessed +George, "and today I tried to come out with it." + +And George went on to recount his experience with the _Sentinel_--his +scene with Doolittle--and Doolittle's plan for an extra of the Sentinel, +which was doubtless then in preparation. + +"So they've got the _Sentinel_ muzzled, have they--and are going to get +out an extra repudiating you," Mrs. Herrington repeated. There came a +flash into her quick, dark eyes. "I want our candidate to stay right +here--rest up--get his thoughts in order. There are a lot of things to +be done. I'll be back in an hour, Mr. Remington. The rest of you come +along--you, too, Mrs. Remington." + +Mrs. Herrington did not altogether keep her word in the matter of time. +It was two hours before she was back. To George she handed a bundle of +papers, remarking: "Thought you'd like to see that _Sentinel_ extra." + +"I suppose Doolittle has done his worst," he remarked grimly. He +glanced at the paper. His face went loose with bewilderment at what he +saw--headlines, big black headlines, bigger and blacker than he had +ever before seen in the politically and typographically conservative +_Sentinel_. He read through a few lines of print, then looked up. + +"Why, it's all here!" he gasped. "The kidnapping of Miss Eliot and +Geneviève by Noonan's men--my break with Doolittle, my denunciation of +the party's methods, my coming out as an independent candidate--that +riot on Main Street! How on earth did that ever get into the +_Sentinel_?" + +"Some straight talk, and quick talk, and the exercise of a little of +the art of pressure they say you men exercise," was the prompt reply. +"I telephoned Mr. Ledbetter of the _Sentinel_ advising him to hold +the extra Mr. Doolittle had threatened until he heard from Mr. Wesley +Norton, proprietor of the Norton Dry Goods Store. You know, Mr. Norton +is the _Sentinel_'s largest single advertiser and president of the +Whitewater Business Men's Club. + +"Then a committee of us women called on Mr. Norton and told him that +we'd organize the women of the city and would carry on a boycott +campaign against his store--we didn't really put it quite as crudely +as that--unless he'd force the _Sentinel_ to stop Mr. Doolittle's lying +extra and print your statement. + +"Mr. Norton gave in, and telephoned the _Sentinel_ that if it didn't do +as he said he'd cancel his advertising contract. Then, to make sure, +we got hold of Mr. Jaffry, called on Mr. Ledbetter, who called in the +business manager--and your Uncle Martin told them that unless they +printed the truth, and every bit of it, and printed it at once, he was +going to put up the money to start an opposition paper that _would print +the truth_. That explains the extra 'Well'," ejaculated George, still +staring, "you certainly are a wonder as a campaign manager!" + +"Oh, I only did my fraction. That Miss Eliot did as much as I--she's a +find--she's going to be one of Whitewater's really big women. And +Betty Sheridan, you can't guess how Betty's worked--and your wife, Mr. +Remington, she's turning out to be a marvel! + +"But that's not all," Mrs. Herrington continued rapidly. "We bought +ten thousand copies of that extra for ourselves--your uncle paid for +them--and we're going to distribute them in every home in town. When +the best element in Whitewater read how the women were trampled down +by Noonan's mob--well, they'll know how to vote! Mr. Noonan will never +guess how much he has helped us." + +"You seem to have left nothing for me to do," said George. + +"You'll find out there'll be all you'll want," replied the brisk Mrs. +Herrington. "We're organizing meetings--one in every hall in the city, +one on almost every other street corner, and we're going to rush you +from one to the next--most of the night--and there'll be no letup for +you tomorrow, even if it is election day. Yes, you'll find there'll be +plenty to do!" + +The next twenty-four hours were the busiest that George Remington had +ever known in his twenty-six years. + +But at nine o'clock the next evening it was over--the tumult and the +shouting and the congratulations--and all were gone save only Martin +Jaffry; and District-Attorney-Elect Remington sat in his hotel suite +alone in the bosom of his family. + +He was still dazed by what had happened to him--at the part he had +unexpectedly played--dazed by the intense but well-ordered activity of +the women: their management of his whirlwind tour of the city; their +organization of parades with amazing swiftness; their rapid and complete +house-to-house canvass--the work of Mrs. Herrington, of Betty, of +that Miss Eliot, of hundreds of women--and especially of Geneviève. +He marveled especially at Geneviève because he had never thought of +Geneviève as doing such things. But she _had_ done them--he felt +that somehow she was a different Geneviève: he didn't know what the +difference was--he was in too much of a whirl for analysis--but he had +an undefined sense of _aliveness_, of a spirited, joyous initiative in +her. + +She and all the rest seemed so strange as to be unbelievable. And yet, +she--and all of it--true!... + +From dramatic events and intangible qualities of the spirit, his +consciousness shifted to material things--his immediate surroundings. +Not till this blessed moment of relaxation did he become aware of +the discomforts of this suite--nor did Geneviève fully appreciate the +flamboyantly flowered maroon wall-paper and the jig-saw furniture. + +"George,"' she sighed, "now that you're not needed down here, can't we +go home?" + +"Home!" The word came out half snort, half growl--hardly the tone +becoming one whose triumph was so exultingly fresh. With a jar he had +come back to a present which he fully understood. "Damn home! I haven't +any home!" + +Geneviève stared. Uncle Martin snickered, for Uncle Martin had the gift +of understanding. + +"You mean those flowers of womanhood whom chivalrous man----" + +"Shut up," commanded George. He thought for a brief space; then his jaw +set. "Excuse me a moment." + +Drawing hotel stationery toward him, he scribbled rapidly and then +sealed and addressed what he had written. + +"Uncle Martin, your car's outside doing nothing; would you mind going +on ahead and giving this little note to Cousin Alys Brewster-Smith, and +then staying around and having a little supper with Geneviève and me? +We'll be out soon, but there are a few things I want to talk over with +Geneviève alone before we come." + +Uncle Martin would oblige. But when he had gone, there seemed to +be nothing of pressing importance that George had to communicate to +Geneviève. Nor half an hour later, when he led his bride of four months +up to their home, had he delivered himself of anything which seemed to +require privacy. + +As they stepped up on the porch, softly lighted by a frosted bulb in its +ceiling, Cousin Emelene, her cat under her arm, came out of the front +door and hurried past them, without speech. + +"Why, Cousin Emelene!" George called after her. + +She paused and half turned. + +"You--you--" she half choked upon expletives that would not come +forth. "The man will come for my trunks in the morning." Thrusting a +handkerchief to her face, she hurried away. + +"George, what can have happened to her?" cried the amazed Geneviève. + +But George was saved answering her just then. Another figure had emerged +from the front door--a rather largish figure, all in black--her left +hand clutching the right hand of a child, aged, possibly, five. And this +figure did not cower and hurry away. This figure halted, and glowered. + +"George Remington," exclaimed Cousin Alys, "after your +invitation--you--you apostate to chivalry! That outrageous letter! But +if I am leaving your home, thank God I'm leaving it for a home of my +own! Come on, Martin!" + +With that she stalked away, dragging the sleepy Eleanor. + +Not till then did George and Geneviève become aware that Uncle Martin +was before them, having until now been obscured by Mrs. Brewster-Smith's +outraged amplitude. His arms were loaded with coats, obviously feminine. + +"Uncle Martin!" exclaimed George. + +"George," gulped his uncle--"George--" And then he gained control of a +dazed sort of speech. "When I gave her that letter I didn't know it was +a letter of eviction. And the way she broke down before me--a woman, you +know--I--I--well, George, it's my home she's going to." + +"You don't mean----" + +"Yes, George, that's just what I mean. Though, of course, I'm taking +her back now to Mrs. Gallup's boarding-house until--until--good-night, +George; good-night, Geneviève." The little man went staggering down the +walk with his burden of wraps; and after a minute there came the sound +of his six-cylinder roadster buzzing away into the darkness. + +"I didn't tell 'em they had to go tonight," said George doggedly. "But +I did remark that even if every woman had a right to a home, every +woman didn't have the right to make my home her home. Anyhow," his +tone becoming softer, "I've at last got a home of my own. Our own," he +corrected. + +He took her in his arms. "And, sweetheart--it's a better home than when +we first came to it, for now I've got more sense. Now it is a home in +which each of us has the right to think and be what we please." + + * * * * * + +At just about this same hour just about this same scene was being +enacted upon another front porch in Whitewater--there being the slight +difference that this second porch was not softly illuminated by any +frosted globule of incandescence. Up the three steps leading to this +second porch Mr. Penfield Evans had that moment escorted Miss Elizabeth +Sheridan. + +"Good-night, Penny," she said. + +He caught her by her two shoulders. + +"See here, Betty--the last twenty-four hours have been mighty busy +hours--too busy even to talk about ourselves. But now--see here, you're +not going to get away with any rough work like that. Come across, now. +Will you?" + +"Will I what?" + +"Say, how long do you think you're a paid-up subscriber to this little +daily speech of mine?... Well, if I've got to hand you another copy, +here goes. You promised me, on your word of honor, if George swung +around for suffrage, you'd swing around for me. Well, George has come +around. Not that I had much to do with it--but he surely did come +around! Now, the point is, Miss Betty Sheridan, are you a woman of your +promise--are you going to marry me?" + +"Well, if you try to put it that way, demanding your pound of flesh----" +"One hundred and twenty pounds," corrected Penny. + +"I'll say that, of course, I don't love you, but I guess a promise is a +promise--and--and--" And suddenly a pair of strong young arms were flung +about the neck of Mr. Penfield Evans. "Oh, I'm so happy, Penny dear!" + +"Betty!" + +After that there was a long silence... silence broken only by that +softly sibilant detonation which belongs most properly to the month of +June, but confines itself to no season... to a long, long silence +born of and blessed by the gods... until one Percival Sheridan, coming +stealthily home from a late debauch at Humphrey's drug store, and +mounting the steps in the tennis sneakers which were his invariable wear +on dry and non-state occasions, bumped into the invisible and unhearing +couple. + +"Say, there--" gasped the startled youth, backing away. + +Betty gave an affrighted cry--it was a long swift journey down from +where she had just been. Her right hand, reaching drowningly out, fell +upon a familiar shoulder. + +"It's Pudge!" she cried. "Pudge"--shaking him--"snooping around, +listening and trying to spy----" + +"You stop that--it ain't so!" protested the outraged Pudge, his +utterance throttled down somewhat by the chocolate cream in his mouth. + +"Spying on people! And, besides, you've been stuffing yourself with +candy again! You're ruining your stomach with that sticky sweet +stuff--you're headed straight for a candy-fiend's grave. Now, you go +upstairs and to bed!" + +She jerked him toward the door, opened it, and as he was thrust through +the door Pudge felt something, something warm, press impulsively against +a cheek. Not until the door had closed upon him did he realize what +Betty had done to him. He stood dazed for a moment--unbalanced between +impulses. Then the sturdy maleness of fourteen rewon its dominance. + +"Guess I know what they was doing, all right--aw, wouldn't it make you +sick!" And, in disgust which another chocolate cream alleviated hardly +at all, he mounted to his bed. + +Outside there was again silence... faintly disturbed only by that softly +sibilant, almost muted percussion which recalls inevitably the month of +June.... + +THE END + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Sturdy Oak, by Samuel Merwin, et al. + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STURDY OAK *** + +***** This file should be named 8435-8.txt or 8435-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/8/4/3/8435/ + +Produced by Eric Eldred, David Widger, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Sturdy Oak + A Composite Novel of American Politics by Fourteen American Authors + +Author: Samuel Merwin, et al. + +Editor: Elizabeth Jordan + +Release Date: August 10, 2009 [EBook #8435] +Last Updated: January 8, 2013 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STURDY OAK *** + + + + +Produced by Eric Eldred, David Widger, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team + + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE STURDY OAK + </h1> + <h2> + A COMPOSITE NOVEL OF AMERICAN POLITICS <br />BY FOURTEEN AMERICAN AUTHORS + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Samuel Merwin, et al. + </h2> + <h3> + All Authors + </h3> + <h5> + SAMUEL MERWIN<br /> HARRY LEON WILSON<br /> FANNIE HURST<br /> DOROTHY + CANFIELD<br /> KATHLEEN NORRIS<br /> HENRY KITCHELL WEBSTER<br /> ANNE + O'HAGAN<br /> MARY HEATON VORSE<br /> ALICE DUER MILLER<br /> ETHEL WATTS + MUMFORD<br /> MARJORIE BENTON COOKE<br /> WILLIAM ALLEN WHITE<br /> MARY + AUSTIN<br /> LEROY SCOTT<br /> + </h5> + <h3> + THEME BY MARY AUSTIN + </h3> + <h4> + The chapters collected and (very cautiously) edited <br />by ELIZABETH + JORDAN + </h4> + <h5> + NEW YORK HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY 1917 + </h5> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + Contents + </h2> + <p> + <a href="#link2H_PREF"> PREFACE </a><br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> + THE STURDY OAK </a><br /> + </p> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER I. </a> + </td> + <td> + BY SAMUEL MERWIN + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER II. </a> + </td> + <td> + BY HARRY LEON WILSON + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER III. </a> + </td> + <td> + BY FANNIE HURST + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER IV. </a> + </td> + <td> + BY DOROTHY CANFIELD + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER V. </a> + </td> + <td> + BY KATHLEEN NORRIS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VI. </a> + </td> + <td> + BY HENRY KITCHELL WEBSTER + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VII. </a> + </td> + <td> + BY ANNE O'HAGAN + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER VIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + BY MARY HEATON VORSE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER IX. </a> + </td> + <td> + BY ALICE DUER MILLER + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER X. </a> + </td> + <td> + BY ETHEL WATTS MUMFORD + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XI. </a> + </td> + <td> + BY MARJORIE BENTON COOK + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XII. </a> + </td> + <td> + BY WILLIAM ALLEN WHITE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + BY MARY AUSTIN + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XIV. </a> + </td> + <td> + BY LEROY SCOTT + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_PREF" id="link2H_PREF"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + PREFACE + </h2> + <p> + At a certain committee meeting held in the spring of 1916, it was agreed + that fourteen leading American authors, known to be extremely generous as + well as gifted, should be asked to write a composite novel. + </p> + <p> + As I was not present at this particular meeting, it was unanimously and + joyously decided by those who were present that I should attend to the + trivial details of getting this novel together. + </p> + <p> + It appeared that all I had to do was: + </p> + <p> + First, to persuade each of the busy authors on the list to write a chapter + of the novel. + </p> + <p> + Second, to keep steadily on their trails from the moment they promised + their chapters until they turned them in. + </p> + <p> + Third, to have the novel finished and published serially during the autumn + Campaign of 1917. + </p> + <p> + The carrying out of these requirements has not been the childish diversion + it may have seemed. Splendid team work, however, has made success + possible. + </p> + <p> + Every author represented, every worker on the team, has gratuitously + contributed his or her services; and every dollar realized by the serial + and book publication of "The Sturdy Oak" will be devoted to the Suffrage + Cause. But the novel itself is first of all a very human story of American + life today. It neither unduly nor unfairly emphasizes the question of + equal suffrage, and it should appeal to all lovers of good fiction. + </p> + <p> + Therefore, pausing only to wipe the beads of perspiration from our brows, + we urge every one to buy this book! + </p> + <p> + ELIZABETH JORDAN. NEW YORK. + </p> + <p> + <i>November</i>, 1917. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <p> + "Nobody ever means that a woman really can't get along without a man's + protection, because look at the women who do." + </p> + <p> + It was hard on the darling old boy to come home to Miss Emelene and the + cat and Eleanor and Alys every night! + </p> + <p> + "You mean because she's a suffragist? You sent her away for <i>that!</i> + Why, really, that's <i>tyranny!</i>" + </p> + <p> + Across the way, Mrs. Herrington, the fighting blood of five generations of + patriots roused in her, had reinstated the Voiceless Speech. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> PRINCIPAL CHARACTERS + </p> + <p> + <i>George Remington</i>... Aged twenty-six; newly married. Recently + returned to his home town, New York State, to take up the practice of law. + Politically ambitious, a candidate for District Attorney. Opposed to woman + suffrage. + </p> + <p> + <i>Genevieve</i>... His wife, aged twenty-three, graduate of Smith. + Devoted to George; her ideal being to share his every thought. + </p> + <p> + <i>Betty Sheridan</i>... A friend of Genevieve. Very pretty; one of the + first families, well-to-do but in search of economic independence. Working + as stenographer in George's office; an ardent Suffragist. + </p> + <p> + <i>Penfield Evans</i>... Otherwise "Penny," George's partner, in love with + Betty. Neutral on the subject of Suffrage. + </p> + <p> + <i>Alys Brewster-Smith</i>... Cousin of George, once removed; + thirty-three, a married woman by profession, but temporarily widowed. + Anti-suffragist. One Angel Child aged five. + </p> + <p> + <i>Martin Jaffry</i>... Uncle to George, bachelor of uncertain age and + certain income. The widow's destined prey. + </p> + <p> + <i>Cousin Emelene</i>.... On Genevieve's side. Between thirty-five and + forty, a born spinster but clinging to the hope of marriage as the only + career for women. Has a small and decreasing income. Affectedly feminine + and genuinely incompetent. + </p> + <p> + <i>Mrs. Harvey Herrington</i>.... President of the Woman's Club, the + Municipal League, Suffrage Society leader, wealthy, cultured and + possessing a sense of humor. + </p> + <p> + <i>Percival Pauncefoot Sheridan</i>.... Betty's brother, fifteen, commonly + called Pudge. Pink, pudgy, sensitive; always imposed upon, always grouchy + and too good-natured to assert himself. + </p> + <p> + <i>E. Eliot</i>.... Real estate agent (added in Chapter VI by Henry + Kitchell Webster). + </p> + <p> + <i>Benjamin Doolittle</i>.... A leader of his party, and somewhat careless + where he leads it. (Added in Anne O'Hagan's Chapter). + </p> + <p> + <i>Patrick Noonan</i>.... A follower of Doolittle. + </p> + <p> + Time.... The Present. + </p> + <p> + Place.... Whitewater, N. Y. A manufacturing town of from ten to fifteen + thousand inhabitants. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + THE STURDY OAK + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. BY SAMUEL MERWIN + </h2> + <p> + Genevieve Remington had been called beautiful. She was tall, with brown + eyes and a fine spun mass of golden-brown hair. She had a gentle smile, + that disclosed white, even teeth. Her voice was not unmusical. She was + twenty-three years old and possessed a husband who, though only + twenty-six, had already shown such strength of character and such aptitude + at the criminal branch of the law that he was now a candidate for the post + of district attorney on the regular Republican ticket. + </p> + <p> + The popular impression was that he would be elected hands down. His + address on Alexander Hamilton at the Union League Club banquet at Hamilton + City, twenty-five miles from Whitewater (with which smaller city we are + concerned in this narrative), had been reprinted in full in the Hamilton + City <i>Tribune</i>; and Mrs. Brewster-Smith reported that former + Congressman Hancock had compared it, not unfavorably, with certain public + utterances of the Honorable Elihu Root. + </p> + <p> + George Remington was an inch more than six feet tall, with sturdy + shoulders, a chin that gave every indication of stubborn strength, a frank + smile, and a warm, strong handclasp. He was connected by blood (as well as + by marriage) with five of the eight best families in Whitewater. Mr. + Martin Jaffry, George's uncle and sole inheritor of the great Jaffry + estate (and a bachelor), was known to favor his candidacy; was supposed, + indeed, to be a large contributor to the Remington campaign fund. In fact, + George Remington was a lucky young man, a coming young man. + </p> + <p> + George and Genevieve had been married five weeks; this was their first day + as master and mistress of the old Remington place on Sheridan Road. + </p> + <p> + Genevieve, that afternoon, was in the long living-room, trying out various + arrangements of the flowers that had been sent in. There were a great many + flowers. Most of them came from admirers of George. The Young Men's + Republican Club, for one item, had sent eight dozen roses. But Genevieve, + still a-thrill with the magic of her five-weeks-long honeymoon, + tremulously happy in the cumulative proof that her husband was the + noblest, strongest, bravest man alive, felt only joy in his popularity. + </p> + <p> + As his wife she shared his triumphs. "For better or worse, for richer or + poorer, in sickness and health..." the ancient phrases repeated themselves + so many times in her softly confused thought, as she moved about among the + flowers, that they finally took on a rhythm— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + <i>"For better or worse, + For richer or poorer, + For richer or poorer, + For better or worse—"</i> + +</pre> + <hr /> + <p> + On this day her life was beginning. She had given herself irrevocably into + the hands of this man. She would live only in him. Her life would find + expression only through his. His strong, trained mind would be her guide, + his sturdy courage her strength. He would build for them both, for the + twain that were one. + </p> + <p> + She caught up one red rose, winked the moisture from her eyes, and gazed—rapt, + lips parted, color high—out at the close-clipped lawn behind the + privet hedge. The afternoon would soon be waning—in another hour or + so. She must not disturb him now. + </p> + <p> + In an hour, say, she would run up the stairs and tap at his door. And he + would come out, clasp her in his big arms, and she would stand on the tips + of her toes and kiss away the wrinkles between his brows, and they would + walk on the lawn and talk about themselves and the miracle of their love. + </p> + <p> + The clock on the mantel struck three. She pouted; turned and stared at it. + "Well," she told herself, "I'll wait until half-past four." + </p> + <p> + The doorbell rang. + </p> + <p> + Genevieve's color faded. The slim hand that held the rose trembled a very + little. Her first caller! She decided that it would be best not to talk + about George. Not one word about George! Her feelings were her secret—and + his. + </p> + <p> + Marie ushered in two ladies. One, who rushed forward with outstretched + hand, was a curiously vital-appearing creature in black—plainly a + widow—hardly more than thirty-two or thirty-three, fresh of skin, + rather prominent as to eyeballs, yet, everything considered, a handsome + woman. This was Alys Brewster-Smith. The other, shorter, slighter, several + years older, a faded, smiling, tremulously hopeful spinster, was + Genevieve's own cousin, Emelene Brand. + </p> + <p> + "It's so nice of you to come—" Geneviève began timidly, only to be + swept aside by the superior aggressiveness and the stronger voice of Mrs. + Brewster-Smith. + </p> + <p> + "My <i>dear</i>! Isn't it perfectly delightful to see you actually + mistress of this wonderful old home. And"—her slightly prominent + eyes swiftly took in furniture, pictures, rugs, flowers,—"how + wonderfully you have managed to give the old place your own tone!" + "Nothing has been changed," murmured Genevieve, a thought bewildered. + </p> + <p> + "Nothing, my dear, but yourself! I am <i>so</i> looking forward to a good + talk with you. Emelene and I were speaking of that only this noon. And I + can't tell you how sorry I am that our first call has to be on a miserable + political matter. Tell me, dear, is that wonderful husband of yours at + home?" + </p> + <p> + "Why—yes. But I am not to disturb him." + </p> + <p> + "Ah, shut away in his den?" + </p> + <p> + Genevieve nodded. + </p> + <p> + "It's a very important paper he has to write. It has to be done now, + before he is drawn into the whirl of campaign work." + </p> + <p> + "Of course! Of course! But I'm afraid the campaign is whirling already. I + will tell you what brought us, my dear. You know of course that Mrs. + Harvey Herrington has come out for suffrage—thrown in her whole + personal weight and, no doubt, her money. I can't understand it—with + her home, and her husband—going into the mire of politics. But that + is what she has done. And Grace Hatfield called up not ten minutes ago to + say that she has just led a delegation of ladies up to your husband's + office. Think of it—to his office! The first day!... Well, Emelene, + it is some consolation that they won't find him there." + </p> + <p> + "He isn't going to the office today," said Genevieve. "But what can they + want of him?" + </p> + <p> + "To get him to declare for suffrage, my dear." + </p> + <p> + "Oh—I'm sure he wouldn't do that!" + </p> + <p> + "Are you, my dear? Are you <i>sure</i>?" + </p> + <p> + "Well——" + </p> + <p> + "He has told you his views, of course?" + </p> + <p> + Genevieve knit her brows. "Why, yes—of course, we've talked about + things——" + </p> + <p> + "My dear, of course he is <i>against suffrage</i>." + </p> + <p> + "Oh yes, of course. I'm sure he is. Though, you see, I would no more think + of intruding in George's business affairs than he would think of intruding + in my household duties." + </p> + <p> + "Naturally, Genevieve. And very sweet and dear of you! But I'm sure you + will see how very important this is. Here we are, right at the beginning + of his campaign. Those vulgar women are going to hound him. They've begun + already. As our committee wrote him last week, it is vitally important + that he should declare himself unequivocally at once." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, yes," murmured Genevieve, "of course. I can see that." + </p> + <p> + The doors swung open. A thin little man of forty to fifty stood there, a + dry but good-humored man, with many wrinkles about his quizzical blue + eyes, and sandy hair at the sides and back of an otherwise bald head. He + was smartly dressed in a homespun Norfolk suit. He waved a cap of homespun + in greeting. + </p> + <p> + "Afternoon, ladies! Genevieve, a bachelor's admiration and respect! I hope + that boy George has got sense enough to be proud of you. But they haven't + at that age. They're all for themselves." + </p> + <p> + "Oh no, Uncle Martin," cried Genevieve, "George is the most generous——" + </p> + <p> + Mr. Martin Jaffry flicked his cap. "All right. All right! He is." And + slowly retreated. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Brewster-Smith, an eager light in her eyes, moved part way across the + room. "But we can't let you run away like this, Mr. Jaffry. Do sit down + and tell us about the work you are doing at the Country Club. Is it to be + bowling alley <i>and</i> swimming pool——" + </p> + <p> + "Bowling alley <i>and</i> swimming pool, yes. Tell me, chick, might a + humble constituent speak to the great man?" + </p> + <p> + Genevieve hesitated. "I'm sure he'd love to see you, Uncle Martin. But he + <i>did</i> say——" + </p> + <p> + "Not to be disturbed by <i>any</i>body, eh?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, Uncle Martin. It's a very important statement he has to prepare + before——" + </p> + <p> + "Good day, then. You look fine in the old house, chick!" + </p> + <p> + Mr. Jaffry donned his cap of homespun, ran down the steps and out the + front walk, hopped into his eight-cylinder roadster, and was off down the + street in a second. There was a sharp decisiveness about his exit, and + about the sudden speed of his machine; all duly noted by Mrs. + Brewster-Smith, who had gone so far as to move down the room to the front + window and watch the performance with narrowed eyes. The Jaffry Building + stands at the southwest corner of Fountain Square. It boasts six stories, + mosaic flooring in the halls, and the only passenger elevator in + Whitewater. The ground floor was given over to Humphrey's drug store; and + most of Humphrey's drug store was given over to the immense marble soda + fountain and the dozen or more wire-legged tables and the two or three + dozen wire chairs that served to accommodate the late afternoon and + evening crowd. + </p> + <p> + At the moment the fountain had but one patron—a remarkably fat boy + of, perhaps, fifteen, with plump cheeks and drooping mouth.... The row of + windows across the second floor front of the building, above Humphrey's, + bore, each, the legend—<i>Remington and Evans, Attorneys at Law</i>. + </p> + <p> + The fat boy was Percival Sheridan, otherwise Pudge. His sister, Betty + Sheridan, worked in the law offices directly overhead and possessed a + heart of stone. + </p> + <p> + Betty was rich, at least in the eyes of Pudge. For more than a year (Betty + was twenty-two) she had enjoyed a private income. Pudge definitely knew + this. She had money to buy out the soda fountain. But her character, + thought Pudge, might be summed up in the statement that she worked when + she didn't have to (people talked about this; even to him!) and flatly + refused to give her brother money for soda. + </p> + <p> + As if a little soda ever hurt anybody. She took it herself, often enough. + Within five minutes he had laid the matter before her—up in that + solemn office, where they made you feel so uncomfortable. She had said: + "Pudge Sheridan, you're killing yourself! Not one cent more for wrecking + your stomach!" + </p> + <p> + She had called him "Pudge." For months he had been reminding her that his + name was Percival. And he wasn't wrecking his stomach. That was silly + talk. He had eaten but two nut sundaes and a chocolate frappé since + luncheon. It wasn't soda and candy that made him so fat. Some folks just + were fat, and some folks were thin. That was all there was <i>to</i> it! + </p> + <p> + Pudge himself would have a private income when he was twenty-one. Six + years off... and Billy Simmons in his white apron, was waiting now, on the + other side of the marble counter, for his order—and grinning as he + waited. Six years! Why, Pudge would be a man then—too old for nut + sundaes and chocolate frappés, too far gone down the sober slope of life + to enjoy anything! + </p> + <p> + Pudge wriggled nervously, locked his feet around behind the legs of the + high stool, rubbed a fat forefinger on the edge of the counter, and + watched the finger intently with gloomy eyes. + </p> + <p> + "Well, what'll it be, Pudge?" This from Billy Simmons. + </p> + <p> + "My name ain't Pudge." + </p> + <p> + "Very good, Mister Sheridan. What'll it be?" + </p> + <p> + "One of those chocolate marshmallow nut sundaes, I guess, if—if——" + </p> + <p> + "If what, Mister Sheridan?" + </p> + <p> + "—if, oh well, just charge it." + </p> + <p> + Billy Simmons paused in the act of reaching for a sundae glass. The smile + left his face. + </p> + <p> + Pudge, though he did not once look up from that absorbing little operation + with the fat forefinger, felt this pause and knew that Billy's grin had + gone; and his own mouth drooped and drooped. It was a tense moment. + </p> + <p> + "You see, Pudge," Billy began in some embarrassment, only to conclude + rather sharply, "I'll have to ask Mr. Humphrey. Your sister said we + weren't——" + </p> + <p> + "Oh, well!" sighed Pudge. Getting down from the stool he waddled slowly + out of the store. + </p> + <p> + It was no use going up against old Humphrey. He had tried that. He went as + far as the fire-plug, close to the corner, and sank down upon it. + Everybody was against him. He would sit here awhile and think it over. + Perhaps he could figure out some way of breaking through the conspiracy. + Then Mr. Martin Jaffry drove up to the curb and he had to move his legs. + Mr. Jaffry said, "Hello, Pudge," too. It was all deeply annoying. + </p> + <p> + Meantime, during the past half-hour, the law offices of Remington and + Evans were not lacking in the sense of life and activity. Things began + moving when Penny Evans (christened Penfield) came back from lunch. He + wore an air—Betty Sheridan noted, from her typewriter desk within + the rail—of determination. His nod toward herself was distinctly + brusque; a new quality which gave her a moment's thought. And then when he + had hung up his hat and was walking past her to his own private office, he + indulged in a faint, fleeting grin. + </p> + <p> + Betty considered him. She had known Penny Evans as long as she could + remember knowing anybody; and she had never seen him look quite as he + looked this afternoon. + </p> + <p> + The buzzer sounded. It was absurd, of course; nobody else in the office. + He could have spoken—you could hear almost every sound over the + seven-foot partitions. + </p> + <p> + She rose, waited an instant to insure perfect composure, smoothed down her + trim shirtwaist, pushed back a straying wisp of her naturally wavy hair, + picked up her notebook and three sharp pencils, and went quietly into his + office. + </p> + <p> + He sat there at his flat desk—his blond brows knit, his mouth firm, + a light of eager good humor in his blue eyes. + </p> + <p> + "Take this," he said... Betty seated herself opposite him, and was + instantly ready for work. + </p> + <p> + "... Memorandum. From rentals—the old Evans property on Ash Street, + the two houses on Wilson Avenue South, and the factory lease in the South + Extension, a total of slightly over $3600. + </p> + <p> + "New paragraph. From investments in bonds, railway and municipal, an + average the last four years of $2800. + </p> + <p> + "New paragraph. From law practice, last year, over $4500. Will be + considerably more this year. Total——" + </p> + <p> + "New paragraph?" + </p> + <p> + "No. Continue. Total, $10,900. This year will be close to $12,000. Don't + you think that's a reasonably good showing for an unencumbered man of + twenty-seven?" + </p> + <p> + "Dictation—that last?" + </p> + <p> + "No, personal query, Penny to Betty." + </p> + <p> + "Yes, then, it is very good. You want this in memorandum form. Any + carbons?" + </p> + <p> + "One carbon—in the form of a diamond—gift from Penny to + Betty." Miss Sheridan settled back in her chair, tapped her pretty mouth + with her pencil, and surveyed the blond young man. Her eyes were blue—frank, + capable eyes. + </p> + <p> + "Penny, I like my work here——" + </p> + <p> + "I should hope so——" + </p> + <p> + "And I don't want to give it up." + </p> + <p> + "Then don't." + </p> + <p> + "I shall have to, Penny, if you don't stop breaking your word. It was a + definite agreement, you know. You were not to propose to me, on any + working day, before seven P.M. This is a proposal of course——" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, of course, but I've just——" + </p> + <p> + "That makes twice this month, then, that you've broken the agreement. Now + I can go on and put my mind on my work, if you'll let me. Otherwise, I + shall have to get a job where they <i>will</i> let me." + </p> + <p> + "But, Betty, I've just this noon sat down and figured up where I stand. It + has frightened me a little. I didn't realize I was taking in more than ten + thousand a year. And all of a sudden it struck me that I've been an + imbecile to wait, or make any agreement——" + </p> + <p> + "Then you broke it deliberately?" + </p> + <p> + "Absolutely. Betty—no fooling now; I'm in earnest——" + </p> + <p> + Studying him, she saw that he was intensely in earnest. + </p> + <p> + "You see, child, I've tried to be patient because I know how you were + brought up, what you're used to. Why, I wouldn't dream of asking you to be + my wife unless I could feel pretty sure of being able to give you the + comforts you've always had and ought to have. But hang it, Betty, I <i>can</i> + do it right! I can give you a home that's worthy of you. Any time! This + year, even!" + </p> + <p> + "Penny, do you think I care what your income is—for one minute?" + </p> + <p> + "Why—why——" + </p> + <p> + "When I'm earning twenty dollars a week myself and prouder of it than—" + </p> + <p> + "But that's absurd, Betty—for you to be working—as a + stenographer, of all things! A girl with your looks and your gifts and all + that's back of you." + </p> + <p> + "You mean that I should make marriage my profession?" + </p> + <p> + "Well—well——" + </p> + <p> + "Probably that's why we keep missing each other, Penny. I've pinned my + flag to the principle of economic independence. You're looking for a girl + who will marry for a living. There are lots of them. Pretty, attractive + girls, too. Your difficulty is, you want that sort. You really believe all + girls are that sort at heart, and you think my independence a fad—something + I shall get over. Don't you, now?" + </p> + <p> + "Well, I'll confess I can't see it as the normal thing. Yes, I believe—I + hope—you will get over it." + </p> + <p> + "Well—" Miss Sheridan slammed her book shut and stood up—"I + won't." + </p> + <p> + She stepped to the door. + </p> + <p> + "And the agreement stands. I want to keep on working. And I want to keep + on being fond of you. That agreement is necessary to both desires." She + opened the door, hesitated and a hint of mischief flashed across her face. + "I'll tell you just the person for you, Penny. Really. Marriage is her + profession. She's very experienced. Temporarily out of a job—Alys + Brewster-Smith." + </p> + <p> + He snatched a carnation from the glass on his desk and threw it at her. It + struck a closed door. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + The outer door opened just then, and Mr. Martin Jaffry stepped in. He + nodded, with his little quizzical smile, to the composed young woman who + stood within the railing. + </p> + <p> + "Anybody here, Betty?" + </p> + <p> + A slight movement of her prettily poised head indicated the door marked + "Mr. Evans." And she said, "Penny's there." + </p> + <p> + "Is he shut up, too? His partner is too important to be seen today." + </p> + <p> + "Oh no," Betty replied, inscrutably sober, "he's not important." + </p> + <p> + Mr. Jaffry wrinkled up his eyes, chuckled softly, then stepped to the door + of the unimportant one. Before opening it, he turned. "Mrs. Harvey + Herrington been in?" + </p> + <p> + "Twice with a committee." + </p> + <p> + "Any idea what she wanted?" + </p> + <p> + Betty was aware that the whimsical and roundabout Mr. Jaffry knew + everything about everybody in Whitewater. She was further aware that he + had, undoubtedly, reasons of his own for questioning her. He was always + asking questions, anyway. Worse than a Chinaman. And for some reason—perhaps + because he was Martin Jaffry—you always answered his questions. + </p> + <p> + "Yes," said Betty. "She wants to pledge him to suffrage." + </p> + <p> + "Umm! Yes, I see! You wouldn't be against that yourself, would you?" + </p> + <p> + "Naturally not. I'm secretary of the Second Ward Suffrage Club." + </p> + <p> + "Umm! Yes, yes!" With which illuminating comment, Mr. Jaffry tapped on + Penny Evans' door, opened it and entered. + </p> + <p> + "Spare a minute?" he inquired. + </p> + <p> + "Sure," said Penny; "two, ten! Take a chair." + </p> + <p> + "No," replied Mr. Jaffry, "I won't take a chair. Think better on my feet. + I'm in a bit of a quandary. Suppose you tell me what this important paper + is that George is drawing up. Do you know?" + </p> + <p> + "I do." + </p> + <p> + "Is he coming out against suffrage?" + </p> + <p> + "Flatly." + </p> + <p> + "Umm!" Mr. Jaffry flicked his cap about. "I want to see George. He mustn't + do that." + </p> + <p> + "Say, Mr. Jaffry, you haven't swung over——" + </p> + <p> + "Not at all. It's tactics. I ought to see him." + </p> + <p> + "Why not run out to his house——" + </p> + <p> + "Just been there. Ran away. Some one there I'm afraid of." + </p> + <p> + "Telephone?" + </p> + <p> + Mr. Jaffry shook his head and lowered his voice. + </p> + <p> + "With Betty hearing it at this end, and the committee from the Antis + sitting it out down there—the telephone's on the stair landing——" + </p> + <p> + He pursed his lips, waved his cap slowly to and fro and observed it with a + whimsical expression on his sandy face, then glanced out of the window. He + stepped closer, looking sharply down. A very fat boy with pink cheeks and + a downcast expression was sitting on a fire-plug. Mr. Jaffry leaned out. + </p> + <p> + "Pudge," he called, "come up here a minute." + </p> + <p> + On the Remington and Evans stationery he penciled a note, which he sealed. + Then he scribbled another—to Mrs. George Remington, asking her to + hand George the inclosure the moment he appeared from his work. The two he + slipped into a large envelope. The very fat boy stood before him. + </p> + <p> + "Want to make a quarter, Pudge? Take this letter, right now, to Mrs. + George Remington. Give it to her personally. It's the old Remington place, + you know." + </p> + <p> + He felt in his change pocket. It was empty. He hesitated, turned to Evans, + then, reconsidering, produced a dollar bill from another pocket and gave + it to the boy. + </p> + <p> + "Now run," he said. + </p> + <p> + The boy, speechless, turned and moved out of the office. His sister spoke + to him, but he did not turn his head. He rolled down the stairs to the + street, stood a moment in front of Humphrey's, drew a sudden breath that + was almost a gasp, waddled into the store, advanced directly on the soda + fountain, and with a blazing red face and angrily triumphant eyes + confronted Billy Simmons. + </p> + <p> + "I'll take a chocolate marshmallow nut sundae," he said. "And you needn't + be stingy with the marshmallow, either!" + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + At ten minutes past four, the anxious Antis in the Remington living-room + heard the candidate for district attorney running down the stairs, and + even Mrs. Brewster-Smith was hushed. The candidate stopped, however, on + the landing. They heard him lift the telephone receiver. He called a + number. Then—— + </p> + <p> + "<i>Sentinel</i> office?... Mr. Ledbetter, please.... Hello, Ledbetter! + Remington speaking. I have that statement ready. Will you send a man + around?... Yes, right away. And I wish you'd put it on the wires. Display + it just as prominently as you can, won't you?... Thanks. That's fine! + Good-by." + </p> + <p> + He ran back upstairs. + </p> + <p> + But shortly he appeared, wearing the distrait, exalted expression of the + genius who has just passed through the creative act. He looked very tall + and strong as he stood before the mantel, receiving the congratulations of + Mrs. Brewster-Smith and the timid admiration of Cousin Emelene. His few + words were well chosen and were uttered with dignity. + </p> + <p> + "And now, dear Mr. Remington, I'm sure I don't need to ask you if you are + taking the right stand on suffrage." This from Mrs. Brewster-Smith. + </p> + <p> + The candidate smiled tolerantly. + </p> + <p> + "If unequivocal opposition is 'right'——" + </p> + <p> + "Oh, you dear man! I was sure we could count on you. Isn't it splendid, + Geneviève!" + </p> + <p> + The reporters came. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + It was a busy evening for the young couple. There were relatives for + dinner. Other relatives and an old friend or two came later. Throughout, + George wore that quietly exalted expression, and carried himself with the + new dignity. + </p> + <p> + To the adoring Genevieve his chin had never appeared so long and strong, + his thought had never seemed so elevated, his quiet self-respect had never + been so commanding. He was no longer merely her George, he was now a + public figure. Soon he would be district attorney; then, very likely, + Governor; then—well, Senator; and finally—it was possible—some + one had to be—President of the United States. He had begun, this + day, by making a great decision, by stepping boldly out on principle, on + moral principle, and announcing himself a defender of the home, of the + right. + </p> + <p> + At midnight, the last guest departed. George and Genevieve stepped out + into the summer moonlight and strolled arm in arm down the walk. + </p> + <p> + Waddling up the street appeared a very fat boy. + </p> + <p> + "Why, Pudge," cried Geneviève, "what on earth are you doing out at this + time of night!" + </p> + <p> + "I'm going home, I tell you!" muttered the boy, on the defensive. He + carried a large bag of what seemed to be chocolate creams, from which he + was eating. + </p> + <p> + As he passed, a twinge of memory disturbed him. He fumbled in his pockets. + </p> + <p> + "I was to give you this," he said then; and leaving a crumpled envelope in + Genevieve's hand, he walked on as rapidly as he could. + </p> + <p> + A few minutes later, standing under the light in the front hall, George + Remington read this penciled note: + </p> + <p> + "I stood ready to contribute more than I promised—any amount to put + you over. But if you give out a statement against suffrage you're a damn + fool and I withdraw every cent. A man with no more political sense and + skill than that isn't worth helping. You should have advised me. + </p> + <p> + "M. J." <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. BY HARRY LEON WILSON + </h2> + <p> + It may have been surmised that our sterling young candidate for district + attorney had not yet become skilled in dalliance with the equivocal; that + he was no adept in ambiguity; that he would confront all issues with a + rugged valiance susceptible of no misconstruction; that, in short, George + Remington was no trimmer. + </p> + <p> + If he opposed an issue, one knew that he opposed it from the heart out. He + said so and he meant it. And, being opposed to the dreadful heresy of + equal suffrage, no reader of the Whitewater <i>Sentinel</i> that morning + could say, as the shrewd so often say of our older statesmen, that George + was "side-stepping." + </p> + <p> + Not George's the mellow gift to say, in effect, that of course woman + should vote the instant she wishes to, though perhaps that day has not yet + come. Meantime the speaker boldly defies the world to show a man holding + woman in loftier regard than he does, or ready to accord her a higher + value in all true functions of the body politic. Equal suffrage, thank + God, is inevitable at some future time, but until that glorious day when + we can be assured that the sex has united in a demand for it, it were + perhaps as well not to cloud the issues of the campaign now opening; + though let it be understood, and he cannot put this too plainly, that he + reveres the memory of his gray-haired mother without whose tender + ministrations and wise guidance he could never have reached the height + from which he now speaks. And so let us pass on to the voting on these + canal bonds, the true inwardness of which, thanks to the venal activities + of a corrupt opposition, even an exclusively male constituency has thus + far failed to comprehend. And so forth. + </p> + <p> + Our hero, then, had yet to acquire this finesse. As we are now privileged + to observe him, he is as easy to understand as the multiplication table, + as little devious and, alas! as lacking in suavity. Yet, let us be fair to + George. Mere innocence of guile, of verbal trickery, had not alone + sufficed for his passionate bluntness in the present crisis. At a later + stage in his career as a husband he might have been equally blunt; yet + never again, perhaps, would he have been so emotional in his opposition to + woman polluting herself with the mire of politics. + </p> + <p> + Be it recalled that but five weeks had elapsed since George had solemnly + promised to cherish and protect the fairest of the non-voting sex—at + least in his State—and he was still taking his mission seriously. As + he wrote the words that were now electrifying, in a manner of speaking, + the readers of the <i>Sentinel</i>, and of neighboring journals with + enough enterprise to secure them, he had beheld his own Genevieve, fine, + flawless, tenderly nourished flower that she was, being dragged from her + high place with the most distressing results. + </p> + <p> + He saw her rushed from the sacred shelter of her home and made to attend + primaries; he saw her compelled to strive tearfully with problems that + revolted all her finer instincts; he saw her insulted at polling booths; + saw her voting in company with persons of both sexes whom one could never + know. + </p> + <p> + He saw her tainted, bruised, beaten down in the struggle, losing little by + little all sense of the holy values of Wife, Mother, Home. As he wrote he + heard her weakening cries for help as she perished, and more than once his + left arm instinctively curved to shield her. + </p> + <p> + Was it not for his wife, then; nay, for wifehood itself, that he wrote? + And so, was it quite fair for unmarried Penfield Evans, burning at his + breakfast table a cynical cigarette over the printed philippic, to murmur, + "Gee! old George <i>has</i> spilled the beans!" + </p> + <p> + Simple words enough and not devoid of friendly concern. But should he not + have divined that George had been appalled to his extremities of speech by + the horrendous vision of his fair young bride being hurled into depths + where she would be obliged, if not to have opinions of her own, at least + to vote with the rabble as he might decide they ought to vote? + </p> + <p> + And should not other critics known to us have divined the racking anguish + under which George had labored? For one, should not Elizabeth Sheridan, + amateur spinster, have been all sympathy for one who was palpably more an + alarmed bridegroom than a mere candidate? + </p> + <p> + Should not her maiden heart have been touched by this plausible aspect of + George's dilemma, rather than her mere brain to have been steeled to a + humorous disparagement tinged with bitterness? + </p> + <p> + And yet, "What rot!" muttered Miss Sheridan,—"silly rot, bally rot, + tommy rot, and all the other kinds!" + </p> + <p> + Hereupon she creased a brow not meant for creases and defaced an admirable + nose with grievous wrinkles of disdain. "Sacred names of wife and mother!" + This seemed regrettably like swearing as she delivered it, though she + quoted verbatim. "Sacred names of petted imbeciles!" she amended. + </p> + <p> + Then, with berserker fury, crumpling her <i>Sentinel</i> into a ball, she + venomously hurled it to the depths of a waste basket and religiously + rubbed the feel of it from her fingers. As she had not even glanced at the + column headed "Births, Deaths, Marriages," it will be seen that her + agitation was real. And surely a more discerning sympathy might have been + looked for from the seasoned Martin Jaffry. A bachelor full of years and + therefore with illusions not only unimpaired but ripened, who more quickly + than he should have divined that his nephew for the moment viewed all + womankind as but one multiplied Genevieve, upon whom it would be heinous + to place the shackles of suffrage? + </p> + <p> + Perhaps Uncle Martin did divine this. Perhaps he was a mere trimmer, a + rank side-stepper, steeped in deceit and ever ready to mouth the + abominable phrase "political expediency." It were rash to affirm this, for + no analyst has ever fathomed the heart of a man who has come to his late + forties a bachelor by choice. One may but guess from the ensuing meager + data. + </p> + <p> + Uncle Martin at a certain corner of Maple Avenue that morning, fell in + with Penfield Evans, who, clad as the lilies of a florist's window, strode + buoyantly toward his office, the vision of his day's toil pinkly suffused + by an overlaying vision of a Betty or Sheridan character. Mr. Evans + bubbled his greeting. "Morning! Have you seen it? Oh, <i>say</i>, have you + seen it?" + </p> + <p> + The immediate manner of Uncle Martin not less than his subdued garb of + gray, his dark gloves and his somber stick, intimated that he saw nothing + to bubble about. + </p> + <p> + "He has burned his bridges behind him." The speaker looked as grim as any + bachelor-by-choice ever may. + </p> + <p> + "Regular little fire-bug," blithely responded Mr. Evans, moderating his + stride to that of the other. + </p> + <p> + "Can't understand it," resumed the gloomy uncle. "I sent him word in time; + sent it from your office by messenger. It was plain enough. I told him no + money of mine would go into his campaign if he made a fool of himself—or + words to that effect." + </p> + <p> + "Phew! Cast you off, did he? Just like that?" + </p> + <p> + "Just like that! Went out of his way to overdo it, too. Needn't have come + out half so strong. No chance now to backwater—not a chance on earth + to explain what he really did mean—and make it something different." + "Quixotic! That's how it reads to me." + </p> + <p> + Uncle Martin here became oracular, his somber stick gesturing to point his + words. + </p> + <p> + "Trouble with poor George, he's been silly enough to blurt out the truth, + what every man of us thinks in his heart—" + </p> + <p> + "Eh?" said Mr. Evans quickly, as one who has been jolted. + </p> + <p> + "No more sense than to come right out and say what every one of us thinks + in his secret heart about women. I think it and you think it—" + </p> + <p> + "Oh, well, if you put it <i>that</i> way," admitted young Mr. Evans + gracefully. "But of course—" + </p> + <p> + "Certainly, of <i>course!</i> We all think it—sacred names of home + and mother and all the rest of it; but a man running for office these days + is a chump to say so, isn't he? Of course he is! What chance does it leave + him? Answer me that." + </p> + <p> + "Darned little, if you ask me," said Mr. Evans judicially. "Poor old + George!" + </p> + <p> + "Talks as if he were going to be married tomorrow instead of its having + come off five weeks ago," pursued Uncle Martin bitterly. Plainly there + were depths of understanding in the man, trimmer though he might be. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Evans made no reply. Irrationally he was considering the terms "five + weeks" and "married" in relation to a spinster who would have professed to + be indignant had she known it. + </p> + <p> + "Got to pull the poor devil out," said Uncle Martin, when in silence they + had traversed fifty feet more of the shaded side of Maple Avenue. + </p> + <p> + "How?" demanded the again practical Mr. Evans. + </p> + <p> + "Make him take it back; make him recant; swing him over the last week + before election. Make him eat his words with every sign of exquisite + relish. Simple enough!" + </p> + <p> + "How?" persisted Mr. Evans. + </p> + <p> + "Wiles, tricks, subterfuges, chicanery—understand what I mean?" + </p> + <p> + "Sure! I understand what you mean as well as you do, but—come down + to brass tacks." + </p> + <p> + "That's an entirely different matter," conceded Uncle Martin gruffly. "It + may take thought." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, is that all? Very well then; we'll think. I, myself, will think. + First, I'll have a talk with the sodden amorist. I'll grill him. I'll find + the weak spot in his armor. There must be something we can put over on + him." + </p> + <p> + "By fair means or foul," insisted Uncle Martin as they paused at the + parting of their ways. "Low-down, underhanded work—do you get what I + mean?" + </p> + <p> + "I do, I do!" declared young Mr. Evans and broke once more into the + buoyant stride of an earlier moment. This buoyance was interrupted but + once, and briefly, ere he gained the haven of his office. + </p> + <p> + As he stepped quite too buoyantly into Fountain Square, he was all but run + down by the new six-cylinder roadster of Mrs. Harvey Herrington, driven by + the enthusiastic owner. He regained the curb in time, with a ready and + heartfelt utterance nicely befitting the emergency. + </p> + <p> + The president of the Whitewater Women's Club, the Municipal League and the + Suffrage Society, brought her toy to a stop fifteen feet beyond her too + agile quarry, with a fine disregard for brakes and tire surfaces. She + beckoned eagerly to him she might have slain. She was a large woman with + an air of graceful but resolute authority; a woman good to look upon, + attired with all deference to the modes of the moment, and exhaling an + agreeable sense of good-will to all. + </p> + <p> + "Be careful always to look before you start across and you'll never have + to say such things," was her greeting to Mr. Evans, as he halted beside + this minor juggernaut. + </p> + <p> + "Sorry you heard it," lied the young man readily. + </p> + <p> + "Such a flexible little car—picks up before one realizes," conceded + Whitewater's acknowledged social dictator. "But what I wanted to say is + this: that poor daft partner of yours has mortally offended every woman in + town except three, with that silly screed of his. I've seen nearly all of + them that count this morning, or they've called me by telephone. Now, why + couldn't he have had the advice of some good, capable woman before + committing himself so rabidly?" + </p> + <p> + "Who were the three?" queried Mr. Evans. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, poor Genevieve, of course; she goes without saying. And you'd guess + the other two if you knew them better—his cousin, Alys + Brewster-Smith, and poor Genevieve's Cousin Emelene. They both have his + horrible school-boy composition committed to memory, I do believe. + </p> + <p> + "Cousin Emelene recited most of it to me with tears in her weak eyes, and + Alys tells me his noble words have made the world seem like a different + place to her. She said she had been coming to believe that chivalry of the + old true brand was dying out, but that dear Cousin George has renewed her + faith in it. + </p> + <p> + "Think of poor Genevieve when they both fall on his neck. They're going up + for that particular purpose this afternoon. The only two in town, mind + you, except poor Genevieve. Oh, it's too awfully bad, because aside from + this medieval view of his, George was probably as acceptable for this + office as any man could be." + </p> + <p> + The lady burdened the word "man" with a tiny but distinguishable emphasis. + Mr. Evans chose to ignore this. + </p> + <p> + "George's friends are going to take him in hand," said he. "Of course he + was foolish to come out the way he has, even if he did say only what every + man believes in his secret heart." + </p> + <p> + The president of the Whitewater Woman's Club fixed him with a glittering + and suddenly hostile eye. + </p> + <p> + "What! you too?" she flung at him. He caught himself. He essayed + explanations, modifications, a better lighting of the thing. But at the + expiration of his first blundering sentence Mrs. Herrington, with her + flexible little car, was narrowly missing an aged and careless pedestrian + fifty yards down the street. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + "George come in yet?" + </p> + <p> + For the second time Mr. Evans was demanding this of Miss Elizabeth + Sheridan who had also ignored his preliminary "Good morning!" + </p> + <p> + Now for a moment more she typed viciously. One would have said that the + thriving legal business of Remington and Evans required the very swift + completion of the document upon which she wrought. And one would have been + grossly deceived. The sheet had been drawn into the machine at the moment + Mr. Evans' buoyant step had been heard in the outer hall, and upon it was + merely written a dozen times the bald assertion, "Now is the time for all + good men to come to the aid of the party." + </p> + <p> + Actually it was but the mechanical explosion of the performer's mood, + rather than the wording of a sentiment now or at any happier time + entertained by her. + </p> + <p> + At last she paused; she sullenly permitted herself to be interrupted. Her + hands still hovered above the already well-punished keys of the + typewriter. She glanced over a shoulder at Mr. Evans and allowed him to + observe her annoyance at the interruption. + </p> + <p> + "George has not come in yet," she said coldly. "I don't think he will ever + come in again. I don't see how he can have the face to. I shouldn't think + he could ever show himself on the street again after that—that—" + </p> + <p> + The young woman's emotion overcame her at this point. Again her relentless + fingers stung the blameless mechanism—"to come to the aid of the + party. Now is the time for all good—" She here controlled herself to + further speech. "And <i>you!</i> Of course you applaud him for it. Oh, I + knew you were all alike!" + </p> + <p> + "Now look here, Betty, this thing has gone far enough——" + </p> + <p> + "Far enough, indeed!" + </p> + <p> + "But you won't give me a chance!" + </p> + <p> + Mr. Evans here bent above his employee in a threatening manner. + </p> + <p> + "You don't even ask what I think about it. You say I'm guilty and ought to + be shot without a trial—not even waiting till sunrise. If you had + the least bit of fairness in your heart you'd have asked me what I really + thought about this outbreak of George's, and I'd have told you in so many + words that I think he's made all kinds of a fool of himself." + </p> + <p> + "No! Do you really, Pen?" + </p> + <p> + Miss Sheridan had swiftly become human. She allowed her eyes to meet those + of Mr. Evans' with an easy gladness but little known to him of late. "Of + course I do, Betty. The idea of a candidate for office in this enlightened + age breaking loose in that manner! It's suicide. He could be arrested for + the attempt in this State. Is that strong enough for you? You surely know + how I feel now, don't you? Come on, Betty dear! Let's not spar in that + foolish way any longer. Remember all I said yesterday. It goes double + today—really, I see things more clearly." + </p> + <p> + Plainly Miss Sheridan was disarmed. + </p> + <p> + "And I thought you'd approve every word of his silly tirade," she + murmured. Mr. Evans, still above her, was perilously shaken by the softer + note in her voice, but he controlled himself in time and sat in one of the + chairs reserved for waiting clients. It was near Miss Sheridan, yet beyond + reaching distance. He felt that he must be cool in this moment of + impending triumph. + </p> + <p> + "Wasn't it the awfullest rot?" demanded the spinster, pounding out a row + of periods for emphasis. + </p> + <p> + "And he's got to be made to eat his words," said Mr. Evans, wisely taking + the same by-path away from the one subject in all the world that really + mattered. + </p> + <p> + "Who could make him?" + </p> + <p> + "I could, if I tried." It came in quiet, masterful tones that almost + convinced the speaker himself. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, Pen, if you could! Wouldn't that be a victory, though? If you only + could——" + </p> + <p> + "Well, if I only could—and if I do?" His intention was too pointed + to be ignored. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, <i>that</i>!" He winced at the belittling "that." "Of course I + couldn't promise—anyway I don't believe you could ever do it, so + what's the use of being silly?" + </p> + <p> + "But you will—will you promise, if I <i>do</i> convert George? + Answer the question, please!" Mr. Evans glared as only actual district + attorneys have the right to. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, what nonsense—but, well, I'll promise—I'll promise to + promise to think very seriously about it indeed, if you bring George + around." + </p> + <p> + "Betty!" It was the voice of an able pleader and he half arose from his + chair, his arms eloquent of purpose. "'Now is the time for all good men to + come to the aid of the party. Now is the time for'—" wrote Miss + Sheridan with dazzling fingers, and the pleader resumed his seat. + </p> + <p> + "How will you bring him 'round," she then demanded. + </p> + <p> + "Wiles, tricks, stratagems," replied the rising young diplomat moodily, + smarting under the moment's defeat. + </p> + <p> + "Serve him right for pulling all that old-fashioned nonsense," said Miss + Sheridan, and accorded her employer a glance in which admiration for his + prowess was not half concealed. + </p> + <p> + "The words of a fool wise in his own folly," went on the encouraged Mr. + Evans, and then, alas! a victim to the slight oratorical thrill these + words brought him,—"honestly uttering what every last man believes + and feels about woman in his heart and yet what no sane man running for + office can say in public—here, what's the matter?" + </p> + <p> + The latter clause had been evoked by the sight of a blazing Miss Sheridan, + who now stood over him with fists tightly clenched. "Oh, oh, oh!" This was + low, tense, thrilling. It expressed horror. "So that's what your + convictions amount to! Then you do applaud him, every word of him, and you + were deceiving me. Every man in his own heart, indeed. Thank heaven I + found you out in time!" + </p> + <p> + It may be said that Mr. Evans now cowered in his chair. The term is not + too violent. He ventured to lift a hand in weak protest. + </p> + <p> + "No, no, Betty, you are being unjust to me again. I meant that that was + what Martin Jaffry told me this morning. It isn't what I believe at all. I + tell you my own deepest sentiments are exactly what yours are in this + great cause which—which—" + </p> + <p> + Painfully he became aware of his own futility. Miss Sheridan had ceased to + blaze. Seated again before the typewriter she grinned at him with amused + incredulity. + </p> + <p> + "You nearly had me going, Pen." + </p> + <p> + Mr. Evans summoned the deeper resources of his manhood and achieved an + easier manner. He brazenly returned her grin. "I'll have you going again + before I'm through—remember that." + </p> + <p> + "By wiles, tricks and stratagems, I suppose." + </p> + <p> + "The same. By those I shall make poor George recant, and by those, + assuming you to be a woman with a fine sense of honor who will hold a + promise sacred, I shall have you going. And, mark my words, you'll be + going good, too!" + </p> + <p> + "Silly!" + </p> + <p> + She drew from the waste basket the maltreated <i>Sentinel</i>, unfurled it + to expose the offending matter, and smote the column with the backs of + four accusing fingers. + </p> + <p> + "There, my dear, is your answer. Now run along like a good boy." + </p> + <p> + "Silly!" said Mr. Evans, striving for a masterly finish to the unequal + combat. He arose, dissembling cheerful confidence, straightened the frame + of a steel-engraved Daniel Webster on the wall, and thrice paced the + length of the room, falsely appearing to be engaged in deep thought. + </p> + <p> + Miss Sheridan, apparently for mere exclamatory purposes, now reread the + fulmination of the absent partner. She scoffed, she sneered, flouted, + derided, and one understood that she was including both members of the + firm. Then her listener became aware that she had achieved coherence. + </p> + <p> + "Indeed, yes! Do you know what ought to happen to him? Every unprotected + female in this county ought to pack her trunk and trudge right up to the + Remington place and say, 'Here we are, noble man! We have read your + burning words in which you offer to protect us. Save us from the vote! Let + your home be our sanctuary. That's what you mean if you meant anything but + tommy-rot. Here and now we throw ourselves upon your boasted chivalry. + Where are our rooms, and what time is luncheon served.'" + </p> + <p> + "Here! Just say that again," called Mr. Evans from across the room. Miss + Sheridan obliged. She elaborated her theme. George should be taken at his + word by every weak flower of womanhood. If women were nothing but + ministering angels, it was "up to" George to give 'em a chance to + minister. + </p> + <p> + So went Miss Sheridan's improvisation and Mr. Evans, suffering the throes + of a mighty inspiration, suddenly found it sweetest music. + </p> + <p> + When Miss Sheridan subsided, Mr. Evans appeared to have forgotten the + cause of their late encounter. Whistling cheerily he bustled into his own + office, mumbling of matters that had to be "gotten off." For some moments + he busied himself at his desk, then emerged to dictate three business + letters to his late antagonist. + </p> + <p> + He dictated in a formal and distant manner, pausing in the midst of the + last letter to spell out the word "analysis," which he must have known + would enrage her further. Then, quite casually, he wished to be told if + she might know the local habitat of Mrs. Alys Brewster-Smith and a certain + Cousin Emelene. His manner was arid. + </p> + <p> + Miss Sheridan chanced to know that the ladies were sheltered in the + exclusive boarding-house of one Mrs. Gallup, out on Erie Street, and + informed him to this effect in the fewest possible words. Mr. Evans + whistled absently a moment, then formally announced that he should be + absent from the office for perhaps an hour. Hat, gloves and stick in hand, + he was about to nod punctiliously to the back of Miss Sheridan's head when + the door opened to admit none other than our hero, George Remington. + George wore the look of one who is uplifted and who yet has found occasion + to be thoughtful about it. Penfield Evans grasped his hand and shook it + warmly. + </p> + <p> + "Fine, George, old boy—simply corking! Honestly, I didn't believe + you had it in you. You covered the ground and you did it in a big way. It + took nerve, all right! Of course you probably know that every woman in + town is speaking of your young wife as 'poor Genevieve,' but you've had + the courage of your convictions. It's great!" + </p> + <p> + "Thanks, old man! I've spoken for the right as I saw it, let come what + may. By the way, has Uncle Martin been in this morning, or telephoned, or + sent any word?" + </p> + <p> + Miss Sheridan coldly signified that none of these things had occurred, + whereupon George sighed in an interesting manner and entered his own room. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Evans had uttered his congratulations in clear, ringing tones and Miss + Sheridan, even as she wrote, contrived with her trained shoulders to + exhibit to his lingering eye an overwhelming contempt for his opinions and + his double-dealing. + </p> + <p> + In spite of which he went out whistling, and dosed the door in a defiant + manner. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. BY FANNIE HURST + </h2> + <p> + Destiny, busybody that she is, has her thousand irons in her perpetual + fires, turning, testing and wielding them. + </p> + <p> + While Miss Betty Sheridan, for another scornful time, was rereading the + well-thumbed copy of the <i>Sentinel</i>, her fine back arched like a + prize cat's, George Remington in his small mahogany office adjoining, neck + low and heels high, was codifying, over and over again, the small planks + of his platform, stuffing the knot holes which afforded peeps to the + opposite side of the issue with anti-putty, and planning a bombardment of + his pattest phrases for the complete capitulation of his Uncle Jaffry. + </p> + <p> + While Genevieve Remington in her snug library, so eager in her wifeliness + to clamber up to her husband's small planks, and if need be, spread her + prettily flounced skirts over the rotting places, was memorizing, with + more pride than understanding, extracts from the controversial article for + quotation at the Woman's Club meeting, Mr. Penfield Evans, with a + determination which considerably expanded his considerable chest + measurement, ran two at a bound up the white stone steps of Mrs. Gallup's + private boarding-house and pulled out the white china knob of a bell that + gave no evidence of having sounded within, and left him uncertain to ring + again. + </p> + <p> + A cast-iron deer, with lichen growing along its antlers, stood poised for + instant flight in Mrs. Gallup's front yard. + </p> + <p> + While Mr. Evans waited he regarded its cast-iron flanks, but not seeingly. + His rather the expression of one who stares into the future and smiles at + what he sees. + </p> + <p> + Erie Street, shaded by a double row of showy chestnuts, lay in summer + calm. A garden hose with a patent attachment spun spray over an adjoining + lawn and sent up a greeny smell. Out from under the striped awning of + Hassebrock's Ice Cream Parlor, cat-a-corner, Percival Pauncefort Sheridan, + in rubber-heeled canvas shoes and white trousers, cuffed high, emerged and + turned down Huron Street, making frequent forays into a bulging rear + pocket. + </p> + <p> + Miss Lydia Chipley, vice-president of the Busy Bee Sewing and Civic Club, + cool, starchy and unhatted, clicked past on slim, trim heels, all radiated + by the reflection from a pink parasol, gay embroidery bag dangling. + </p> + <p> + "Hello, Lyd!" + </p> + <p> + "Hello, Pen!" + </p> + <p> + "What's your hurry?" + </p> + <p> + "It's my middle name." + </p> + <p> + "Why hurry, when the future is always waiting?" + </p> + <p> + "Why aren't you holding your partner's head since he committed political + suicide in the <i>Sentinel</i>?" + </p> + <p> + "I'd rather hold your head, Lyd, any day in the week." + </p> + <p> + "Gaul," said Miss Chipley, passing on, her sharply etched little face + glowing in the pink reflection of the parasol, "is bounded on the north by + Mrs. Gallup's boarding-house, and on the south by——" + </p> + <p> + "By the Frigid Zone!" + </p> + <p> + Then the door from behind swung open. Mr. Penfield Evans stepped into Mrs. + Gallup's cool, exclusive parlor of better days, and delivering his card to + a moist-fingered maid, sat himself among the shrouded furniture to await + Mrs. Alys Brewster-Smith and Miss Emelene Brand. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Gallup's boarding-house was finishing its noonday meal. Boiled odors + lay upon a parlor that was otherwise redolent of the more opulent days of + the Gallups. A not too ostentatious clatter of dishes came through the + closed folding-doors. + </p> + <p> + Almost immediately Mrs. Alys Brewster-Smith, her favorite Concentrated + Breath of the Lily always in advance, rustled into the darkened parlor, + her stride hitting vigorously into her black taffeta skirts. Even as she + shook hands with Mr. Evans, she jerked the window shade to its height, so + that her smoothness and coloring shone out above her weeds. + </p> + <p> + In the shadow of her and at her life job of bringing up the rear, with a + large Maltese cat padding beside her, entered Miss Brand on rubber heels. + She was the color of long twilight. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Evans rose to his six-feet-in-his-stockings and extended them each a + hand, Miss Emelene drawing the left. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Smith threw up a dainty gesture, black lace ruffles falling back from + arms all the whiter because of them. + </p> + <p> + "Well, Penny Evans!" + </p> + <p> + "None other, Mrs. Smith, than the villain himself." + </p> + <p> + "Be seated, Penfield." + </p> + <p> + "Thanks, Miss Emelene." + </p> + <p> + They drew up in a triangle beside the window overlooking the cast-iron + deer. The cat sprang up, curling in the crotch of Miss Emelene's arm. + </p> + <p> + "Nice ittie kittie, say how-do to big Penny-field-Evans. Say how-do to big + man. Say how-do, muvver's ittie kittie." Miss Emelene extended the + somewhat reluctant Maltese paw, five hook-shaped claws slightly in + evidence. + </p> + <p> + "Say how-do to Hanna, Penfield. Hanna, say how-do to big man." "How-do, + Hanna," said Mr. Evans, reddening slightly beneath his tan. Then hitched + his chair closer. + </p> + <p> + "To what," he began, flashing his white smile from one to the other of + them, and with a strong veer to the facetious, "are we indebted for the + honor of this visit? Are those the unspoken words, ladies?" + </p> + <p> + "Nothing wrong at home, Penfield? Nobody ailing or—" + </p> + <p> + "No, no, Miss Emelene, never better. As a matter of fact, it's a piece of + political business that has prompted me to—" + </p> + <p> + At that Mrs. Smith jangled her bracelets, leaning forward on her knees. + </p> + <p> + "If it's got anything to do with your partner and my cousin George + Remington having the courage to go in for the district attorneyship + without the support of the vote-hunting, vote-eating women of this town, + I'm here to tell you that I'm with him heart and soul. He can have my + support and—" + </p> + <p> + "Mine too. And if I've got anything to say my two nephews will vote for + him; and I think I have, with my two heirs." + </p> + <p> + "Ladies, it fills my heart with joy to—" + </p> + <p> + "Votes! Why what would the powder-puffing, short-skirted, bridge-playing + women of this town do with the vote if they had it? Wear it around their + necks on a gold chain?" + </p> + <p> + "Well spoken, Mrs. Smith, if—" + </p> + <p> + "I know the direction you lean, Penfield Evans, letting—" + </p> + <p> + "But, Miss Emelene, I—" + </p> + <p> + "Letting that shameless Betty Sheridan, a girl that had as sweet and + womanly a mother as Whitewater ever boasted, lead you around by the nose + on her suffrage string. A girl with her raising and both of her + grandmothers women that lived and died genteel, to go traipsing around in + her low heels in men's offices and addressing hoi polloi from soap boxes! + Why, between her and that female chauffeur, Mrs. Herrington, another woman + whose mother was of too fine feelings even to join the Delsarte class, the + women of this town are being influenced to making disgraceful—dis—oh, + what shall I say, Alys?" + </p> + <p> + Here Mrs. Smith broke in, thumping a soft fist into a soft palm. + </p> + <p> + "It's the most pernicious movement, Mr. Evans, that has ever got hold of + this community and we need a man like my cousin George Remington to—" + </p> + <p> + "But, Mrs. Smith, that's just what I—" + </p> + <p> + "To stamp it out! Stamp it out! It's eating into the homes of Whitewater, + trying to make breadwinners out of the creatures God intended for the + bread-eaters—I mean bread-bakers." + </p> + <p> + "But, Mrs. Smith, I—" + </p> + <p> + "Woman's place has been the home since home was a cave, and it will be the + home so long as women will remember that womanliness is their greatest + asset. As poor dear Mr. Smith was so fond of saying, he—I can't + bring myself to talk of him, Mr. Evans, but—but as he used to say, I—I—" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, yes, Mrs. Smith, I understa—" + </p> + <p> + "But as my cousin says in his article, which in my mind should be spread + broadcast, what higher mission for woman than—than—just what + are his words, Emelene?" + </p> + <p> + Miss Brand leaned forward, her gaze boring into space. + </p> + <p> + "What higher mission," she quoted, as if talking in a chapel, "for woman + than that she sit enthroned in the home, wielding her invisible but mighty + scepter from that throne, while man, kissing the hand that so lovingly + commands him, shall bear her gifts and do her bidding. That is the + strongest vote in the world. That is the universal suffrage which chivalry + grants to woman. The unpolled vote! Long may it reign!" + </p> + <p> + Round spots of color had come out on Miss Emelene's long cheeks. + </p> + <p> + "A man who can think like that has the true—the true—what + shall I say, Alys?" + </p> + <p> + "But, ladies, I protest that I'm not—" + </p> + <p> + "Has the true chivalry of spirit, Emelene, that the women are too stark + raving mad to appreciate. You can't come here, Mr. Evans, to two women to + whom womanliness and love of home, thank God, are still uppermost and try + to convert us to—" + </p> + <p> + Here Mr. Evans executed a triple gyration, to the annoyance of Hanna, who + withdrew from the gesture, and raised his voice to a shout that was not + without a note of command. + </p> + <p> + "Convert you! Why women alive, what I've been bursting a blood vessel + trying to say during the length of this interview is that I'd as soon dip + my soul in boiling oil as try to convert you away from the cause. <i>My</i> + cause! <i>Our</i> cause!" + </p> + <p> + "Why—" + </p> + <p> + "I'm here to tell you that I'm with my partner head-over-heels on the + plank he has taken." + </p> + <p> + "But we thought—" + </p> + <p> + "We thought you and Betty Sheridan—why, my cousin Genevieve + Remington told me that—" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, yes, Miss Emelene. But not even the wiles of a pretty woman can hold + out indefinitely against Truth! A broad-minded man has got to keep the + door of his mind open to conviction, or it decays of mildew. I confess + that finally I am convinced that if there is one platform more than + another upon which George Remington deserves his election it is on the + brave and chivalrous principles he has so courageously come out with in + the current <i>Sentinel</i>. Whatever may have been between Betty Sheridan + and—" + </p> + <p> + "Mr. Evans, you don't mean to tell me that you and Betty Sheridan have + quarreled! Such a desirable match from every point of view, family and + all! It goes to show what a rattle-pated bunch of women they are! Any + really clever girl with an eye to her future, anti or pro, could shift her + politics when it came to a question of matri—" + </p> + <p> + "Mrs. Smith, there comes a time in every modern man's life when he's got + to keep his politics and his pretty girls separate, or suffrage will get + him if he don't watch out!" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, and Mr. Evans, if what I hear is true, a good-looking woman can talk + you out of your safety deposit key!" + </p> + <p> + "That's where you're wrong, Mrs. Smith, and I'll prove it to you. Despite + any wavering I may have exhibited, I now stand, as George puts it in his + article, 'ready to conserve the threatened flower of womanhood by also + endeavoring to conserve her unpolled vote!' If you women want prohibition, + it is in your power to sway man's vote to prohibition. If you women want + the moon, let man cast your proxy vote for it! In my mind, that is the + true chivalry. To quote again, 'Woman is man's rarest heritage, his + beautiful responsibility, and at all times his co-operation, support and + protection are due her. His support and protection.'" + </p> + <p> + Miss Emelene closed her eyes. The red had spread in her cheeks and she + laid her head back against the chair, rocking softly and stroking the + thick-napped cat. + </p> + <p> + "The flower of womanhood," she repeated. "'His support and his + protection.' If ever a man deserved high office because of high + principles, it's my cousin George Remington! My cousin Genevieve + Livingston Remington is the luckiest girl in the world, and not one of us + Brands but what is willing to admit it. My two nephews, too, if their Aunt + Emelene has anything to say, and I think she has—" + </p> + <p> + "Why, there isn't a stone in the world I wouldn't turn to see that boy in + office," Mrs. Smith interrupted. + </p> + <p> + At that Mr. Evans rose. + </p> + <p> + "You mean that, Mrs. Smith?" + </p> + <p> + Miss Emelene rose with him, the cat pouring from her lap. + </p> + <p> + "Of course she means it, Penfield. What self-respecting woman wouldn't!" + </p> + <p> + Mr. Evans sat down again suddenly, Miss Emelene with him, and leaning + violently forward, thrust his eager, sun-tanned face between the two + women. + </p> + <p> + "Well, then, ladies, here's your chance to prove it! That's what brings me + today. As two of the self-respecting, idealistic and womanly women of this + community, I have come to urge you both to—" + </p> + <p> + "Oh, Mr. Evans!" + </p> + <p> + "Penfield, you are the flatterer!" + </p> + <p> + "To induce two such representative women as yourselves to help my partner + to the election he so well deserves." + </p> + <p> + "Us?" "It is in your power, ladies, to demonstrate to Whitewater that + George Remington's chivalry is not only on paper, but in his soul." + </p> + <p> + "But—how?" + </p> + <p> + "By throwing yourselves upon his generosity and hospitality, at least + during the campaign. You have it in your power, ladies, to strengthen the + only uncertain plank upon which George Remington stands today." + </p> + <p> + A clock ticked roundly into a silence tinged with eloquence. The Maltese + leaped back into Miss Emelene's lap, purring there. + </p> + <p> + "You mean, Penfield, for us to go visit George—er—er—" + </p> + <p> + "Just that! Bag and baggage. As two relatives and two unattached women, it + is your privilege, nay, your right." + </p> + <p> + "But—" + </p> + <p> + "He hasn't come out in words with it, but he has intimated that such an + act from the representative antis of this town would more than anything + strengthen his theories into facts. As unattached women, particularly as + women of his own family, his support and protection, as he puts it, are + due you, <i>due</i> you!" + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Smith clasped her plentifully ringed fingers, and regarded him with + her prominent eyes widening. + </p> + <p> + "Why, I—unprotected widow that I am, Mr. Evans, am not the one to + force myself even upon my cousin if—" + </p> + <p> + "Nor I, Penfield. It would be a pleasant enough change, heaven knows, from + the boarding-house. But you can ask your mother, Penfield, if there ever + was a prouder girl in all Whitewater than Emmy Brand. I—" + </p> + <p> + "But I tell you, ladies, the obligation is all on George's part. It's just + as if you were polling votes for him. What is probably the oldest adage in + the language, states that actions speak louder than words. Give him his + chance to spread broadcast to your sex his protection, his support. That, + ladies, is all I—we—ask." + </p> + <p> + "But I—Genevieve—the housekeeping, Penfield. Genevieve isn't + much on management when it comes to—" "Housekeeping! Why, I have it + from your fair cousin herself, Miss Emelene, that her idea of their new + little home is the Open House." + </p> + <p> + "Yes, but—as Emelene says, Mr. Evans, it's an imposition to—" + </p> + <p> + "Why do you think, Mrs. Smith, Martin Jaffry spends all his evenings up at + Remingtons' since they're back from their honeymoon? Why, he was telling + me only last night it's for the joy of seeing that new little niece of his + lording it over her well-oiled little household, where a few extra + dropping in makes not one whit of difference." + </p> + <p> + At this remark, embedded like a diamond in a rock, a shade of faintest + color swam across Mrs. Smith's face and she swung him her profile and + twirled at her rings. + </p> + <p> + "And where Genevieve Remington's husband's interests are involved, ladies, + need I go further in emphasizing your welcome into that little home?" + </p> + <p> + "Heaven knows it would be a change from the boarding-house, Alys. The + lunches here are beginning to go right against me! That sago pudding today—and + Gallup knowing how I hate starchy desserts!" + </p> + <p> + "For the sake of the cause, Miss Emelene, too!" + </p> + <p> + "Gallup would have to hold our rooms at half rate." + </p> + <p> + "Of course, Mrs. Smith. I'll arrange all that." + </p> + <p> + "I—I can't go over until evening, with three trunks to pack." + </p> + <p> + "Just fine, Mrs. Smith. You'll be there just in time to greet George at + dinner." + </p> + <p> + Miss Emelene fell to stroking the cat, again curled like a sardelle in her + lap. + </p> + <p> + "Kitti-kitti-kitti—, does muvver's ittsie Hanna want to go on visit + to Tousin George in fine new ittie house? To fine Tousin Georgie what give + ittsie Hanna big saucer milk evvy day? Big fine George what like ladies + and lady kitties!" + </p> + <p> + "Emelene, it's out of the question to take Hanna. You know how George + Remington hates cats! You remember at the Sunday School Bazaar when—" + A grimness descended like a mask over Miss Brand's features. Her mouth + thinned. + </p> + <p> + "Very well, then. Without Hanna you can count me out, Penfield. If—" + </p> + <p> + "No, no! Why nonsense, Miss Emelene! George doesn't—" + </p> + <p> + "This cat has the feelings and sensibilities of a human being." + </p> + <p> + "Why of course," cried Penfield Evans, reaching for his hat. "Just you + bring Hanna right along, Miss Emelene. That's only a pet pose of George's + when he wants to tease his relatives, Mrs. Smith. I remember from college—why + I've seen George <i>kiss</i> a cat!" + </p> + <p> + Miss Emelene huddled the object of controversy up in her chin, talking + down into the warm gray fur. + </p> + <p> + "Was 'em tryin' to 'buse muvver's ittsie bittsie kittsie? Muvver's ittsie + bittsie kittsie!" + </p> + <p> + They were in the front hall now, Mr. Evans tugging at the door. + </p> + <p> + "I'll run around now and arrange to have your trunks called for at five. + My congratulations and thanks, ladies, for helping the right man toward + the right cause." + </p> + <p> + "You're <i>sure</i>, Penfield, we'll be welcome?" + </p> + <p> + "Welcome as the sun that shines!" + </p> + <p> + "If I thought, Penfield, that Hanna wouldn't be welcome I wouldn't budge a + step." + </p> + <p> + "Of course she's welcome, Miss Emelene. Isn't she of the gentler sex? + There'll be a cab around for you and Mrs. Smith and Hanna about five. So + long, Mrs. Smith, and many thanks. Miss Emelene, Hanna." + </p> + <p> + On the outer steps they stood for a moment in a dapple of sunshine and + shadow from chestnut trees. + </p> + <p> + "Good-by, Mr. Evans, until evening." + </p> + <p> + "Good-by, Mrs. Smith." He paused on the walk, lifting his hat and flashing + his smile a third time. + </p> + <p> + "Good-by, Miss Emelene." + </p> + <p> + From the steps Miss Brand executed a rotary motion with the left paw of + the dangling Maltese. + </p> + <p> + "Tell nice gentleman by-by. Tum now, Hanna, get washed and new ribbon to + go by-by. Her go to big Cousin George and piddy Cousin Genevieve. By-by! + By-by!" + </p> + <p> + The door swung shut, enclosing them. Down the quiet, tree-shaped sidewalk, + Mr. Penfield Evans strode into the somnolent afternoon, turning down Huron + Street. At the remote end of the block and before her large frame mansion + of a thousand angles and wooden lace work, Mrs. Harvey Herrington's low + car sidled to her curb-stone, racy-looking as a hound. That lady herself, + large and modish, was in the act of stepping up and in. + </p> + <p> + "Well, Pen Evans! 'Tis writ in the book our paths should cross." + </p> + <p> + "Who more pleased than I?" + </p> + <p> + "Which way are you bound?" + </p> + <p> + "Jenkins' Transfer and Cab Service." + </p> + <p> + "Jump in." + </p> + <p> + "No sooner said than done." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Herrington threw her clutch and let out a cough of steam. They jerked + and leaped forward. From the rear of the car an orange and black pennant—<i>Votes + for Women</i>—stiffened out like a semaphore against the breeze. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. BY DOROTHY CANFIELD + </h2> + <p> + Genevieve Remington sat in her pretty drawing-room and watched the hour + hand of the clock slowly approach five. Five was a sacred hour in her day. + At five George left his office, turned off the business-current with a + click and turned on, full-voltage, the domestic-affectionate. + </p> + <p> + Genevieve often told her girl friends that she only began really to live + after five, when George was restored to her. She assured them the + psychical connection between George and herself was so close that, sitting + alone in her drawing-room, she could feel a tingling thrill all over when + the clock struck five and George emerged from his office downtown. + </p> + <p> + On the afternoon in question she received her five o'clock electric thrill + promptly on time, although history does not record whether or not George + walked out from his office at that moment. With all due respect for the + world-shaking importance of Mr. Remington's movements, it must be stated + that history had, on that afternoon, other more important events to + chronicle. + </p> + <p> + As the clock struck five, the front doorbell rang. Marie, the maid, went + to open the door. Genevieve adjusted the down-sweeping, golden-brown tress + over her right eye, brushed an invisible speck from the piano, + straightened a rose in a vase, and after these traditionally bridal + preparations, waited with a bride's optimistic smile the advent of a + caller. But it was Marie who appeared at the door, with a stricken face of + horror. + </p> + <p> + "Mrs. Remington! Mrs. Remington!" she whispered loudly. "They've come to + stay. The men are getting their trunks down from the wagon." + </p> + <p> + "<i>Who</i> has come to stay? <i>Where?</i>" queried the startled bride. + </p> + <p> + "The two ladies who came to call yesterday!" + </p> + <p> + "<i>Oh!</i>" said the relieved Genevieve. "There's some mistake, of + course. If it's Cousin Emelene and Mrs.——" + </p> + <p> + She advanced into the hall and was confronted by two burly men with a very + large trunk between them. + </p> + <p> + "Which room?" said one of them in a bored and insolent voice. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, you must have come to the wrong house," Genevieve assured them with + her pretty, friendly smile. + </p> + <p> + She was so happy and so convinced of the essential rightness of a world + which had produced George Remington that she had a friendly smile for + every one, even for unshaven men who kept their battered derby hats on + their heads, had viciously smelling cigars in their mouths, and penetrated + to her sacred front hall with trunks which belonged somewhere else. + </p> + <p> + "Isn't this G. L. Remington's house?" inquired one of the men, dropping + his end of the trunk and consulting a dirty slip of paper. + </p> + <p> + "Yes, it is," admitted Genevieve, thrilling at the thought that it was + also hers. "This is the place all right, then," said the man. He heaved up + his end of the trunk again, and said once more, "Which room?" + </p> + <p> + The repetition fell a little ominously on Genevieve's ear. What on earth + could be the matter? + </p> + <p> + She heard voices outside and craning her soft white neck, she saw Cousin + Emelene, with her gray kitten under one arm and a large suitcase in her + other hand, coming up the steps. There was a beatific expression in her + gentle, faded eyes, and her lips were quivering uncertainly. When she + caught sight of Genevieve's sweet face back of the bored expressmen, she + gave a little cry, ran forward, set down her suitcase and clasped her + young cousin in her arms. + </p> + <p> + "Oh Genevieve dear, that noble wonderful husband of yours! What have you + done to deserve such a man... out of this Age of Gold!" + </p> + <p> + This was a sentiment after Genevieve's own heart, but she found it rather + too vague to meet the present somewhat tense situation. + </p> + <p> + Cousin Emelene went on, clasping her at intervals, and talking very fast. + "I can hardly believe it! Now that my time of trial is all over I don't + mind telling you that I was growing embittered and cynical. All those + phrases my dear mother had brought me to believe, the sanctity of the + home, the chivalrous protection of men, the wicked folly of women who + leave the home to engage in fierce industrial struggle."... At about this + point the expressmen set the trunk down, put their hands on their hips, + cocked their hats at a new angle and waited in gloomy ennui for the + conversation to stop. Cousin Emelene flowed on, her voice unsteady with a + very real emotion. + </p> + <p> + "See, dear, you must not blame me for my lack of faith... but see how it + looked to me. There I was, as womanly a woman as ever breathed, and yet <i>I</i> + had no home to be sanctified, <i>I</i> had never had a bit of chivalrous + protection from any man. And with the New Haven stocks shrinking from one + day to the next, the way they do, it looked as though I would either have + to starve or engage in the wicked, unwomanly folly of earning my own + living. Do you know, dear Genevieve, I had almost come to the point—you + know how the suffragists do keep banging away at their points—I + almost wondered if perhaps they were right and if men really mean those + things about protection and support in place of the vote.... And then + George's splendid, noble-spirited article appeared, and a kind friend + interpreted it for me and told what it really meant, for <i>me</i>! Oh, + Genevieve."... The tears rose to her mild eyes, her gentle, flat voice + faltered, she took out a handkerchief hastily. "It seemed too good to be + true," she said brokenly into its folds. "I've longed all my life to be + protected, and now I'm going to be!" + </p> + <p> + "Which room, please?" said the expressman. "We gotta be goin' on." + </p> + <p> + Genevieve pinched herself hard, jumped and said "<i>ouch</i>." Yes, she + was awake, all right! + </p> + <p> + "Oh, Marie, will you please get Hanna a saucer of milk?" said Cousin + Emelene now, seeing the maid's round eyes glaring startled from the + dining-room door. "And just warm it a little bit, don't scald it. She + won't touch it if there's the least bit of a scum on it. Just take that + ice-box chill off. Here, I'll go with you this time. Since we're going to + live here now, you'll have to do it a good many times, and I'd better show + you just how to do it right." + </p> + <p> + She disappeared, leaving a trail of caressing baby-talk to the effect that + she would take good care of muvver's ittie bittie kittie. + </p> + <p> + She left Genevieve for all practical purposes turned to stone. She felt as + though she were stone, from head to foot, and she could open her mouth no + more than any statue when, in answer to the next repetition, very + peremptory now, of "Which room?" a voice as peremptory called from the + open front door, "Straight upstairs; turn to your right, first door on the + left." + </p> + <p> + As the men started forward, banging the mahogany banisters with the + corners of the trunk at every step, Mrs. Brewster-Smith stepped in, + immaculate as to sheer collar and cuffs, crisp and tailored as to suit, + waved and netted as to hair, and chilled steel and diamond point as to + will-power. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, Genevieve, I didn't see <i>you</i> there! I didn't know why they + stood there waiting so long. I know the house so well I knew of course + which room you'll have for guests. <i>Dear</i> old house! It will be like + returning to my childhood to live here again!" She cocked an ear toward + the upper regions and frowned, but went on smoothly. + </p> + <p> + "Such happy girlhood hours as I have passed here! After all there is + nothing like the home feeling, is there, for us women at any rate! We're + the natural conservatives, who cling to the simple, elemental + satisfactions, and there's a heart-hunger that can only be satisfied by a + home and a man's protection! I thought George's description too beautiful + ... in his article you know... of the ideal home with the women of the + family safe within its walls, protected from the savagery of the economic + struggle which only men in their strength can bear without being crushed." + </p> + <p> + She turned quickly and terribly to the expressmen coming down the stairs + and said in so fierce a voice that they shrank back visibly, "There's + another trunk to take up to the room next to that. And if you let it down + with the bang you did this one, you'll get something that will surprise + you! Do you hear me!" + </p> + <p> + They shrank out, cowed and tiptoeing. Mrs. Brewster-Smith turned back to + her young cousin-by-marriage and murmured, "That was such a true and deep + saying of George's... wherever does such a young man get his wisdom!... + that women are not fitted by nature to cope with hostile forces!" + </p> + <p> + Cousin Emelene approached from behind the statue of Genevieve, still + frozen in place with an expression of stupefaction on her white face. The + older woman put her arms around the bride's neck and gave her an + affectionate hug. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, dearest Jinny, doesn't it seem like a dream that we're all going to + be together, all we women, in a real home, with a real man at the head of + it to direct us and give us of his strength! It does seem just like that + beautiful old-fashioned home that George drew such an exquisite picture + of, in his article, where the home was the center of the world to the + women in it. It will be to me, I assure you, dear. I feel as though I had + come to a haven, and as though I <i>never</i> would want to leave it!" + </p> + <p> + The expressmen were carrying up another trunk now, and so conscious of the + glittering eyes of mastery upon them that they carried it as though it + were the Ark of the Covenant and they its chosen priests. Mrs. + Brewster-Smith followed them with a firm tread, throwing over her shoulder + to the stone Genevieve below, "Oh, my dear, little Eleanor and her nurse + will be in soon. Frieda was taking Eleanor for her usual afternoon walk. + Will you just send them upstairs when they come! I suppose Frieda will + have the room in the third story, that extra room that was finished off + when Uncle Henry lived here. Emelene, you'd better come right up, too, if + you expect to get unpacked before dinner." + </p> + <p> + She disappeared, and Emelene fluttered up after her, drawn along by + suction, apparently, like a sheet of paper in the wake of a train. The + expressmen came downstairs, still treading softly, and went out. Genevieve + was alone again in her front hall. To her came tiptoeing Marie, with wide + eyes of query and alarm. And from Marie's questioning face, Genevieve fled + away like one fleeing from the plague. + </p> + <p> + "Don't ask me, Marie! Don't <i>speak</i> to me. Don't you dare ask me + what... or I'll..." She was at the front door as she spoke, poised for + flight like a terrified doe. "I must see Mr. Remington! I don't know <i>what</i> + to tell you, Marie, till I have seen Mr. Remington! I must see my husband! + I don't know what to say, I don't know what to <i>think</i>, until I have + seen my husband." + </p> + <p> + Calling this eminently wifely sentiment over her shoulder she ran down the + front walk, hatless, wrapless, just as she was in her pretty flowered and + looped-up bride's house dress. She couldn't have run faster if the house + had been on fire. + </p> + <p> + The clicking of her high heels on the concrete sidewalk was a rattling + tattoo so eloquent of disorganized panic that more than one head was + thrust from a neighboring window to investigate, and more than one head + was pulled back, nodding to the well-worn and charitable hypothesis, + "Their first quarrel." The hypothesis would instantly have been withdrawn + if any one had continued looking after the fleeing bride long enough to + see her, regardless of passers-by, fling herself wildly into her husband's + arms as he descended from the trolley-car at the corner. + </p> + <p> + Betty Sheridan was sitting in the drawing-room of her parents' house, + rather moodily reading a book on the <i>Balance of Trade</i>. + </p> + <p> + She had an unconfessed weakness of mind on the subject of tariffs and + international trade. Although when in college she had written a paper on + it which had been read aloud in the Economics Seminar and favorably + commented upon, she knew, in her heart of hearts, that she understood less + than nothing about the underlying principles of the subject. This nettled + her and gave her occasional nightmare moments of doubt as to the real + fitness of women for public affairs. She read feverishly all she could + find on the subject, ending by addling her brains to the point of frenzy. + </p> + <p> + She was almost in that condition now although she did not look it in the + least as, dressed for dinner in the evening gown which replaced the stark + linens and tailored seams of her office-costume, she bent her shining head + and earnest face over the pages of the book. + </p> + <p> + Penfield Evans took a long look at her, as one looks at a rose-bush in + bloom, before he spoke through the open door and broke the spell. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, Betty," he called in a low tone, beckoning her with a gesture + redolent of mystery. + </p> + <p> + Betty laid down her book and stared. "What you want?" she challenged him, + reverting to the phrase she had used when they were children together. + </p> + <p> + "Come on out here a minute!" he said, jerking his head over his shoulder. + "I want to show you something." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, I can't fuss around with you," said Betty, turning to her book again. + "I've got Roberts' <i>Balance of Trade</i> out of the library and I must + finish it by tomorrow." She began to read again. + </p> + <p> + The young man stood silent for a moment. "Great Scott!" he was saying to + himself with a sinking heart. "So <i>that's</i> what they pick up for + light reading, when they're waiting for dinner!" + </p> + <p> + He had a particularly gone feeling because, although he had made several + successful political speeches on international trade and foreign tariffs, + he was intelligent enough to know in his heart of hearts that he had no + real understanding of the principles involved. He had come, indeed, to + doubt if any one had! + </p> + <p> + Now, as he watched the pretty sleek head bent over the book he had + supposed of course was a novel, he felt a qualm of real apprehension. + Maybe there was something in what that guy said, the one who wrote a book + to prove (bringing Queen Elizabeth and Catherine the Great as examples) + that the real genius of women is for political life. Maybe they <i>have</i> + a special gift for it! Maybe, a generation or so from now, it'll be the <i>men</i> + who are disfranchised for incompetence.... He put away as fantastic such + horrifying ideas, and with a quick action of his resolute will applied + himself to the present situation. "Oh Betty, you don't know what you're + missing! It's a sight you'll never forget as long as you live... oh, come + on! Be a sport. Take a chance!" + </p> + <p> + Betty was still suspicious of frivolity, but she rose, looked at her + wrist-watch and guessed she'd have a few minutes before dinner, to fool + away in light-minded society. + </p> + <p> + "There's nothing light-minded about this!" Penny assured her gravely, + leading her swiftly down the street, around the corner, up another street + and finally, motioning her to silence, up on the well-clipped lawn of a + handsome, dignified residence, set around with old trees. + </p> + <p> + "Look!" he whispered in her ear, dramatically pointing in through the + lighted window. "Look! What do you see?" + </p> + <p> + Betty looked, and looked again and turned on him petulantly: + </p> + <p> + "What foolishness are you up to now, Penfield Evans!" she whispered + energetically. "Why under the sun did you drag me out to see Emelene and + Alys Brewster-Smith dining with the Remingtons? Isn't it just the + combination of reactionary old fogies you might expect to get together... + though I didn't know Alys ever took her little girl out to dinner-parties, + and Emelene must be perfectly crazy over that cat to take her here. Cats + make George's flesh creep. Don't you remember, at the Sunday School + Bazaar." + </p> + <p> + He cut her short with a gesture of command, and applying his lips to her + ear so that he would not be heard inside the house, he said, "You think + all you see is Emelene and Alys taking dinner <i>en famille</i> with the + Remingtons. Eyes that see not! What you are gazing upon is a + reconstruction of the blessed family life that existed in the good old + days, before the industrial period and the abominable practice of economic + independence for women began! You are seeing Woman in her proper place, + the Home,... if not her own Home, somebody's Home, anybody's Home... the + Home of the man nearest to her, who owes her protection because she can't + vote. You are gazing upon..." + </p> + <p> + His rounded periods were silenced by a tight clutch on his wrist. + "Penfield Evans. Don't you dare exaggerate to me! Have they come there to + stay! <i>To take him at his word!</i>" + </p> + <p> + He nodded solemnly. + </p> + <p> + "Their trunks are upstairs in the only two spare-rooms in the house, and + Frieda is installed in the only extra room in the attic. Marie gave notice + that she was going to quit, just before dinner. George has been + telephoning to my Aunt Harriet to see if she knows of another maid...." + </p> + <p> + "Whatever... whatever could have made them <i>think</i> of such a thing!" + gasped Betty, almost beyond words. + </p> + <p> + "I did!" said Penfield Evans, tapping himself on the chest. "It was <i>my</i> + giant intelligence that propelled them here." + </p> + <p> + He was conscious of a lacy rush upon him, and of a couple of soft arms + which gave him an impassioned embrace none the less vigorous because the + arms were more used to tennis-racquets and canoe-paddles than impassioned + embraces. Then he was thrust back... and there was Betty, collapsed + against a lilac bush, shaking and convulsed, one hand pressed hard on her + mouth to keep back the shrieks of merriment which continually escaped in + suppressed squeals, the other hand outstretched to ward him off.... + </p> + <p> + "No, don't you touch me, I didn't mean a thing by it! I just couldn't help + it! It's too, <i>too</i> rich! Oh Penny, you duck! Oh, I shall die! I + shall die! I never saw anything so funny in my life! Oh, Penny, take me + away or I shall perish here and now!" + </p> + <p> + On the whole, in spite of the repulsing hand, he took it that he had + advanced his cause. He broke into a laugh, more light-hearted than he had + uttered for a long time. They stood for a moment more in the soft + darkness, gazing in with rapt eyes at the family scene. Then they reeled + away up the street, gasping and choking with mirth, festooning themselves + about trees for support when their legs gave way under them. + </p> + <p> + "<i>Did</i> you see George's face when Emelene let the cat eat out of her + plate!" cried Betty. + </p> + <p> + "And did you see Genevieve's when Mrs. Brewster-Smith had the dessert set + down in front of her to serve!" + </p> + <p> + "How about little Eleanor upsetting the glass of milk on George's + trousers!" + </p> + <p> + "Oh <i>poor</i> old George! Did you ever see such gloom!" + </p> + <p> + Thus bubbling, they came again to Betty's home with the door still open + from which she had lately emerged. There Betty fell suddenly silent, all + the laughter gone from her face. The man peered in the dusk, apprehensive. + What had gone wrong, now, after all? + </p> + <p> + "Do you know, Penny, we're pigs!" she said suddenly, with energy. "We're + hateful, abominable pigs!" + </p> + <p> + He glared at her and clutched his hair. + </p> + <p> + "Didn't you see Emelene Brand's face? I can't get it out of my mind! It + makes me sick, it was so happy and peaceful and befooled! Poor old dear! + She <i>believes</i> all that! And she's the only one who does! And its + beastly in us to make a joke of it! She has wanted a home all her life, + and she'd have made a lovely one, too, for children! And she's been kept + from it by all this fool's talk about womanliness." + </p> + <p> + "Help! What under the sun are you..." began Penfield. + </p> + <p> + "Why, look here, she's not and never was, the kind any man wants to marry. + She wouldn't have liked a real husband, either... poor, dear, thin-blooded + old child! But she wanted a <i>home</i> just the same. Everybody does! And + if she had been taught how to earn a decent living, if she hadn't been + fooled out of her five senses by that idiotic cant about a man's doing + everything for you, or else going without... why she'd be working now, a + happy, useful woman, bringing up two or three adopted children in a decent + home she'd made for them with her own efforts... instead of making her + loving heart ridiculous over a cat...." + </p> + <p> + She dashed her hand over her eyes angrily, and stood silent for a moment, + trying to control her quivering chin before she went into the house. + </p> + <p> + The young man touched her shoulder with reverent fingers. "Betty," he said + in a rather unsteady voice, "its <i>true</i>, all that bally-rot about + women being better than men. You <i>are</i>!" + </p> + <p> + With which very modern compliment, he turned and left her. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. BY KATHLEEN NORRIS + </h2> + <p> + Her first evening with her augmented family Genevieve Remington never + forgot. It is not at all likely that George ever forgot it, either; but to + George it was only one in the series of disturbing events that followed + his unqualified repudiation of the suffrage cause. + </p> + <p> + To Genevieve's tender heart it meant the wreckage, not the preservation of + the home; that lovely home to whose occupancy she had so hopefully looked. + She was too young a wife to recognize in herself the evanescent emotions + of the bride. The blight had fallen upon her for all time. What had been + fire was ashes; it was all over. The roseate dream had been followed by a + cruel, and a lasting, awakening. + </p> + <p> + Some day Genevieve would laugh at the memory of this tragic evening, as + she laughed at George's stern ultimatums, and at Junior's decision to be + an engineer, and at Jinny's tiny cut thumb. But she had no sense of humor + now. As she ran to the corner, and poured the whole distressful story into + her husband's ears, she felt the walls of her castle in Spain crashing + about her ears. + </p> + <p> + George, of course, was wonderful; he had been that all his life. He only + smiled, at first, at her news. + </p> + <p> + "You poor little sweetheart!" he said to his wife, as she clung to his + arm, and they entered the house together. "It's a shame to distress you + so, just as we are getting settled, and Marie and Lottie are working in! + But it's too absurd, and to have you worry your little head is ridiculous, + of course! Let them stay here to dinner, and then I'll just quietly take + it for granted that they are going home—" + </p> + <p> + "But—but their trunks are here, dearest!" + </p> + <p> + Husband and wife were in their own room now, and Genevieve was rapidly + recovering her calm. George turned from his mirror to frown at her in + surprise. "Their trunks! They didn't lose any time, did they? But do you + mean to say there was no telephoning—no notice at all?" + </p> + <p> + "They may have telephoned, George, love. But I was over at Grace + Hatfield's for a while, and I got back just before they came in!" + </p> + <p> + George went on with his dressing, a thoughtful expression on his face. + Genevieve thought he looked stunning in the loose Oriental robe he wore + while he shaved. + </p> + <p> + "Well, whatever they think, we can't have this, you know," he said + presently. "I'll have to be quite frank with Alys,—of course Emelene + has no sense!" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, be quite frank!" Genevieve urged eagerly. "Tell them that of course + you were only speaking figuratively. Nobody ever means that a woman really + can't get along without a man's protection, because look at the women who + <i>do</i>—" + </p> + <p> + She stopped, a little troubled by the expression on his face. + </p> + <p> + "I said what I truly believe, dear," he said kindly. "You know that!" + Genevieve was silent. Her heart beat furiously, and she felt that she was + going to cry. He was angry with her—he was angry with her! Oh, what + had she said, what <i>had</i> she said! + </p> + <p> + "But for all that," George continued, after a moment, "nobody but two + women could have put such an idiotic construction upon my words. I am + certainly going to make that point with Alys. A sex that can jump headlong + to such a perfectly untenable conclusion is very far from ready to assume + the responsibilities of citizenship—" + </p> + <p> + "George, dearest!" faltered Genevieve. She did not want to make him cross + again, but she could not in all loyalty leave him under this + misunderstanding, to approach the always articulate Alys. + </p> + <p> + "George, it was Penny, I'm sure!" she said. "From what they said,—they + talked all the time!—I think Penny went to see them, and sort of—sort + of—suggested this! I'm so sorry, George—" + </p> + <p> + George was sulphurously silent. + </p> + <p> + "And Penny will make the most of it, you know!" + </p> + <p> + Genevieve went on quickly and nervously. "If you should send them back, + tonight, I know he'd tell Betty! And Betty says she is coming to see you + because she has been asked to read an answer to your paper, at the Club, + and she might—she has such a queer sense of humor—" + </p> + <p> + Silence. Genevieve wished that she was dead, and that every one was dead. + </p> + <p> + "I don't want to criticize you, dear," George said presently, in his + kindest tone. "But the time to <i>act</i>, of course, was when they first + arrived. I can't do anything now. We'll just have to face it through, for + a few days." + </p> + <p> + It was not much of a cloud, but it was their first. Genevieve went + downstairs with tears in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + She had wanted their home to be so cozy, so dainty, so intimate! And now + to have two grown women and a child thrust into her Paradise! Marie was + sulky, rattling the silver-drawer viciously while her mistress talked to + her, and Lottie had an ugly smile as she submitted respectfully that there + wasn't enough asparagus. + </p> + <p> + Then George's remoteness was terrifying. He carved with appalling + courtesy. "Is there another chicken, Genevieve?" he asked, as if he had + only an impersonal interest in her kitchen. No, there was only the one. + And plenty, too, said the guests pleasantly. Genevieve hoped there were + eggs and bacon for Marie and Lottie and Frieda. + </p> + <p> + "I'm going to ask you for just a mouthful more, it tastes so delicious and + homy!" said Alys. "And then I want to talk a little business, George. It's + about those houses of mine, out in Kentwood...." + </p> + <p> + George looked at her blankly, over his drumstick. + </p> + <p> + "Darling Tom left them," said Tom's widow, "and they really have rented + well. They're right near the factory, you know. But now, just lately, some + man from the agents has been writing and writing me; he says that one of + them has been condemned, and that unless I do something or other they'll + all be condemned. It's a horrid neighborhood, and I don't like the idea, + anyway, of a woman poking about among drains and cellars. Yet, if I send + the agent, he'll run me into fearful expense; they always do. So I'm going + to take them out of his hands tomorrow, and turn it all over to you, and + whatever you decide will be best!" + </p> + <p> + "My dear girl, I'm the busiest man in the world!" George said. "Leave all + that to Allen. He's the best agent in town!" + </p> + <p> + "Oh, I took them away from Allen months ago, George. Sampson has them + now." + </p> + <p> + "Sampson? What the deuce did you change for? I don't know that Sampson is + solvent. I certainly would go back to Allen—" + </p> + <p> + "George, I can't!" + </p> + <p> + The widow looked at her plate, swept him a coquettish glance, and dropped + her eyes again. + </p> + <p> + "Mr. Allen is a dear fellow," she elucidated, "but his wife is dreadful! + There's nothing she won't suspect, and nothing she won't say!" + </p> + <p> + "My dear cousin, this isn't a question of social values! It's business!" + George said impatiently. "But I'll tell you what to do," he added, after + scowling thought. "You put it in Miss Eliot's hands; she was with Allen + for some years. Now she's gone in for herself, and she's doing well. We've + given her several things—" "Take it out of a man's hands to put it + into a woman's!" Alys exclaimed. And Emelene added softly: + </p> + <p> + "What can a woman be thinking of, to go into a dreadful business like + selling real estate and collecting rents!" + </p> + <p> + "Of course, she was trained by men!" Genevieve threw in, a little + anxiously. Alys was so tactless, when George was tired and hungry. She + cast about desperately for some neutral topic, but before she could find + one the widow spoke again. + </p> + <p> + "I'll tell you what I'll do, George. I'll bring the books and papers to + your office tomorrow morning, and then you can do whatever you think best! + Just send me a check every month, and it will be all right!" + </p> + <p> + "Just gather me up what's there, on the plate," Emelene said, with her + nervous little laugh in the silence. "I declare I don't know when I've + eaten such a dinner! But that reminds me that you could help me out + wonderfully, too, Cousin George—I can't quite call you Mr. + Remington!—with those wretched stocks of mine. I'm sure I don't know + what they've been doing, but I know I get less money all the time! It's + the New Haven, George, that P'pa left me two years ago. I can't understand + anything about it, but yesterday I was talking to a young man who advised + me to put all my money into some tonic stock. It's a tonic made just of + plain earth—he says it makes everything grow. Doesn't it sound + reasonable? But if I should lose all I have, I'm afraid I'd <i>really</i> + wear my welcome out, Genevieve, dear. So perhaps you'll advise me?" + </p> + <p> + "I'll do what I can!" George smiled, and Genevieve's heart rose. "But upon + my word, what you both tell me isn't a strong argument for Betty's cause!" + he added good-naturedly. + </p> + <p> + "P'pa always said," Emelene quoted, "that if a woman looked about for a + man to advise her, she'd find him! And as I sit here now, in this lovely + home, I think—isn't it sweeter and wiser and better this way? For a + while,—because I was a hot-headed, rebellious girl!—I couldn't + see that he was right. I had had a disappointment, you know," she went on, + her kind, mild eyes watering. Genevieve, who had been gazing in some + astonishment at the once hot-headed, rebellious girl, sighed + sympathetically. Every one knew about the Reverend Mr. Totter's death. + </p> + <p> + "And after that I just wanted to be busy," continued Emelene. "I wanted to + be a trained nurse, or a matron, or something! I look back at it now, and + wonder what I was thinking about! And then dear Mama went, and I stepped + into her place with P'pa. He wasn't exactly an invalid, but he did like to + be fussed over, to have his meals cooked by my own hands, even if we were + in a hotel. And whist—dear me, how I used to dread those three + rubbers every evening! I was only a young woman then, and I suppose I was + attractive to other men, but I never forgot Mr. Totter. And Cousin + George," she turned to him submissively, "when you were talking about a + woman's real sphere, I felt—well, almost guilty. Because only that + one man ever asked me. Do you think, feeling as I did, that I should have + deliberately made myself attractive to men?" + </p> + <p> + George cleared his throat. "All women can't marry, I suppose. It's in + England, I believe, that there are a million unmarried women. But you have + made a contented and a womanly life for yourself, and, as a matter of + fact, there always <i>has</i> been a man to stand between you and the + struggle!" he said. + </p> + <p> + "I know. First P'pa, and now you!" Emelene mused happily. + </p> + <p> + "I wasn't thinking of myself. I was thinking that your father left you a + comfortable income!" he said quickly. + </p> + <p> + "And now you have asked me here; one of the dearest old places in town!" + Emelene added innocently. + </p> + <p> + Genevieve listened in a stupefaction. This was married life, then? Not + since her childhood had Genevieve so longed to stamp, to scream, to + protest, to tear this twisted scheme apart and start anew! + </p> + <p> + She was not a crying woman, but she wanted to cry now. She was not—she + told herself indignantly—quite a fool. But she felt that if George + went on being martyred, and mechanically polite, and grim, she would go + into hysterics. She had been married less than six weeks; that night she + cried herself to sleep. + </p> + <p> + Her guests were as agreeable as their natures permitted; but Genevieve was + reduced, before the third day of their visit, to a condition of continual + tears. + </p> + <p> + This was her home, this was the place sacred to George and herself, and + their love. Nobody in the world,—not his mother, not hers, had their + mothers been living!—was welcome here. She had planned to be such a + good wife to him, so thoughtful, so helpful, so brave when he must be + away. But she could not rise to the height of sharing him with other + women, and saying whatever she said to him in the hearing of witnesses. + And then she dared not complain too openly! That was an additional + hardship, for if George insulted his guests, then that horrid Penny— + </p> + <p> + Genevieve had always liked Penny, and had danced and flirted with him + aeons ago. She had actually told Betty that she hoped Betty would marry + Penny. But now she felt that she loathed him. He was secretly laughing at + George, at George who had dared to take a stand for old-fashioned virtue + and the purity of the home! + </p> + <p> + It was all so unexpected, so hard. Women everywhere were talking about + George's article, and expected her to defend it! George, she could have + defended. But how could she talk about a subject upon which she was not + informed, in which, indeed, as she was rather fond of saying, she was + absolutely uninterested? + </p> + <p> + George was changed, too. Something was worrying him; and it was hard on + the darling old boy to come home to Miss Emelene and the cat and Eleanor + and Alys, every night! Emelene adored him, of course, and Alys was always + interesting and vivacious, but—but it wasn't like coming home to his + own little Genevieve! + </p> + <p> + The bride wept in secret, and grew nervous and timid in manner. Mrs. + Brewster-Smith, however, found this comprehensible enough, and one hot + summer afternoon Genevieve went into George's office with her lovely head + held high, her color quite gone, and her breath coming quickly with + indignation. [Illustration: It was hard on the darling old boy to come + home to Miss Emelene and the cat and Eleanor and Alys every night!] + "George—I don't care what we do, or where we go! But I can't stand + it! She said—she said—she told me—" + </p> + <p> + Her husband was alone in his office, and Genevieve was now crying in his + arms. He patted her shoulder tenderly. + </p> + <p> + "I'm so worried all the time about dinners, and Lottie's going, and that + child getting downstairs and letting in flies and licking the frosting off + the maple cake," sobbed Genevieve, "that of <i>course</i> I show it! And + if I <i>have</i> given up my gym work, it's just because I was so busy + trying to get some one in Lottie's place! And now they say—they say—that + <i>they</i> know what the matter is, and that I mustn't dance or play golf—the + horrible, spying cats! I won't go back, George, I will not! I—" + </p> + <p> + Again George was wonderful. He put his arm about her, and she sat down on + the edge of his desk, and leaned against that dear protective shoulder and + dried her eyes on one of his monogrammed handkerchiefs. He reminded her of + a long-standing engagement for this evening with Betty and Penny, to go + out to Sea Light and have dinner and a swim, and drive home in the + moonlight. And when she was quiet again, he said tenderly: + </p> + <p> + "You mustn't let the 'cats' worry you, Pussy. What they think isn't true, + and I don't blame you for getting cross! But in one way, dear, aren't they + right? Hasn't my little girl been riding and driving and dancing a little + too hard? Is it the wisest thing, just now? You have been nervous lately, + dear, and excitable. Mightn't there be a reason? Because I don't have to + tell you, sweetheart, nothing would make me prouder, and Uncle Martin, of + course, has made no secret of how <i>he</i> feels! You wouldn't be sorry, + dear?" + </p> + <p> + Genevieve had always loved children deeply. Long before this her happy + dreams had peopled the old house in Sheridan Road with handsome, dark-eyed + girls, and bright-eyed boys like their father. + </p> + <p> + But, to her own intense astonishment, she found this speech from her + husband distasteful. George would be "proud," and Uncle Martin pleased. + But it suddenly occurred to Genevieve that neither George nor Uncle Martin + would be tearful and nervous. Neither George nor Uncle Martin need eschew + golf and riding and dancing. To be sick, when she had always been so well! + To face death, for which she had always had so healthy a horror! Cousin + Alex had died when her baby came, and Lois Farwell had never been well + after the fourth Farwell baby made his appearance. + </p> + <p> + Genevieve's tears died as if from flame. She gently put aside the + sustaining arm, and went to the little mirror on the wall, to straighten + her hat. She remembered buying this hat, a few weeks ago, in the ecstatic + last days of the old life. + </p> + <p> + "We needn't talk of that yet, George," she said quietly. + </p> + <p> + She could see George's grieved look, in the mirror. There was a short + silence in the office. + </p> + <p> + Then Betty Sheridan, cool in pongee, came briskly in. + </p> + <p> + "Hello, Jinny!" said she. "Had you forgotten our plan tonight? You're + chaperoning me, I hope you realize! I'm rather difficile, too. Genevieve, + Pudge is outside; he'll take you out and buy you something cold. I took + him to lunch today. It was disgraceful! Except for a frightful-looking + mess called German Pot Roast With Carrots and Noodles Sixty, he ate + nothing but melon, lemon-meringue pie, and pineapple special. I was + absolutely ashamed! George, I would have speech with you." + </p> + <p> + "Private business, Betty?" he asked pleasantly. "My wife may not have the + vote, but I trust her with all my affairs!" + </p> + <p> + "Indeed, I'm not in the least interested!" Genevieve said saucily. + </p> + <p> + She knew George was pleased with her as she went happily away. + </p> + <p> + "It's just as well Jinny went," said Betty, when she and the + district-attorney-elect were alone. "Because it's that old bore Colonel + Jaynes! He's come again, and he says he <i>will</i> see you!" + </p> + <p> + Deep red rose in George's handsome face. + </p> + <p> + "He came here last week, and he came yesterday," Betty said, sitting down, + "and really I think you should see him! You see, George, in that far-famed + article of yours, you remarked that 'a veteran of the civil as well as the + Spanish war' had told you that it was the restless outbreaking of a few + northern women that helped to precipitate the national catastrophe, and he + wants to know if you meant him!" + </p> + <p> + "I named no names!" George said, with dignity, yet uneasily, too. + </p> + <p> + "I know you didn't. But you see we haven't many veterans of <i>both</i> + wars," Betty went on, pleasantly. "And of course old Mrs. Jaynes is a + rabid suffragist, and she is simply hopping. He's a mild old man, you + know, and evidently he wants to square things with 'Mother.' Now, George, + who <i>did</i> you mean?" + </p> + <p> + "A statement like that may be made in a general sense," George remarked, + after scowling thought. + </p> + <p> + "You might have made the statement on your own hook," Betty conceded, "but + when you mention an anonymous Colonel, of course they all sit up! He says + that he's going to get a signed statement from you that <i>he</i> never + said that, and publish it!" + </p> + <p> + "Ridiculous!" said George. + </p> + <p> + "Then here are two letters," Betty pursued. "One is from the corresponding + secretary of the Women's Non-partisan Pacific Coast Association. She says + that they would be glad to hear from you regarding your statement that + equal suffrage, in the western states, is an acknowledged failure." + </p> + <p> + "She'll wait!" George predicted grimly. + </p> + <p> + "Yes, I suppose so. But she's written to our Mrs. Herrington here, asking + her to follow up the matter. George, dear," asked Betty maternally, "<i>why</i> + did you do it? Why couldn't you let well enough alone!" + </p> + <p> + "What's your other letter?" asked George. + </p> + <p> + "It's just from Mr. Riker, of the <i>Sentinel</i>, George. He wants you to + drop in. It seems that they want a correction on one of your statistics + about the number of workingwomen in the United States who don't want the + vote. He says it only wants a signed line from you that you were mistaken—" + </p> + <p> + Refusing to see Colonel Jaynes, or to answer the Colonel's letter, George + curtly telephoned the editor of the <i>Sentinel</i>, and walked home at + four o'clock, his cheeks still burning, his mind in a whirl. Big issues + should have been absorbing him: and his mind was pestered instead with + these midges of the despised cause. Well, it was all in the day's work— + </p> + <p> + And here was his sweet, devoted wife, fluttering across the hall, as cool + as a rose, in her pink and white. And she had packed his things, in case + they wanted to spend the night at Sea Light, and the "cats" had gone off + for library books, and he must have some ginger-ale, before it was time to + go for Betty and Penny. + </p> + <p> + The day was perfection. The motor-car purred like a racing tiger under + George's gloved hand. Betty and Penny were waiting, and the three young + persons forgot all differences, and laughed and chatted in the old happy + way, as they prepared for the start. But Betty was carrying a book: <i>Catherine + of Russia</i>. + </p> + <p> + "Do you know why suffragists should make an especial study of queens, + George?" she asked, as she and Penny settled themselves on the back seat. + </p> + <p> + "Well, I'll be interlocutor," George smiled, glancing up at the house, + from which his wife might issue at any moment. "Why should suffragists + read the lives of queens, Miss Bones?" + </p> + <p> + "Because queens are absolutely the only women in all history who had equal + rights!" Betty answered impassively. "Do you realize that? The only women + whose moral and social and political instincts had full sway!" + </p> + <p> + "And a sweet use they made of them, sometimes!" said George. + </p> + <p> + "And who were the great rulers," pursued Betty. "Whose name in English + history is like the names of Elizabeth and Victoria, or Matilda or Mary, + for the matter of that? Who mended and conserved and built up what the + kings tore down and wasted? Who made Russia an intellectual power—" + </p> + <p> + Again Penny had an odd sense of fear. Were women perhaps superior to men, + after all! + </p> + <p> + "I don't think Catherine of Russia is a woman to whom a lady can point + with pride," George said conclusively. Genevieve, who had appeared, shot + Betty a triumphant glance as they started. Pudge waved to them from the + candy store at the corner. + </p> + <p> + "There's a new candy store every week!" said Penny, shuddering. "Heaven + help that poor boy; it must be in the blood!" + </p> + <p> + "Women must always have something sweet to nibble," George said, leaning + back. "The United States took in two millions last year in gum alone!" + </p> + <p> + "Men chew gum!" suggested Betty. + </p> + <p> + "But come now, Betty, be fair!" George said. "Which sex eats more candy?" + </p> + <p> + "Well, I suppose women do," she admitted. + </p> + <p> + "You count the candy stores, down Main Street," George went on, "and ask + yourself how it is that these people can pay rents and salaries just on + candy,—nothing else. Did you ever think of that?" + </p> + <p> + "Well, I could vote with a chocolate in my mouth!" Betty muttered + mutinously, as the car turned into the afternoon peace of the main + thoroughfare. + </p> + <p> + "You count them on your side, Penny, and I will on mine!" Genevieve + suggested. "All down the street." "Well, wait—we've passed two!" + Penny said excitedly. + </p> + <p> + "Go on; there's three. That grocery store with candy in the window!" + </p> + <p> + "Groceries don't count!" objected Betty. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, they do, too! And drug stores.... Every place that sells candy!" + </p> + <p> + "Drug stores and groceries and fruit stores only count half a point," + Betty stipulated. "Because they sell other things!" + </p> + <p> + "That's fair enough," George conceded here, with a nod. + </p> + <p> + Genevieve and Penny almost fell out of the car in their anxiety not to + miss a point, and George quite deliberately lingered on the cross-streets, + so that the damning total might be increased. + </p> + <p> + Laughing and breathless, they came to the bridge that led from the town to + the open fields, and took the count. + </p> + <p> + "One hundred and two and a half!" shouted Penny and Geneviève + triumphantly. George smiled over his wheel. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, women, women!" he said. "One hundred and sixty-one!" said Betty. + There was a shout of protest. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, Betty Sheridan! You didn't! Why, we didn't miss <i>one</i>!" + </p> + <p> + "I wasn't counting candy stores," smiled Betty. "Just to be different, I + counted cigar stores and saloons. But it doesn't signify much either way, + does it, George?" + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. BY HENRY KITCHELL WEBSTER + </h2> + <p> + Of the quartette who, an hour later, emerged from the bath-houses and + scampered across the satiny beech into a discreetly playful surf, + Genevieve was the one real swimmer. She was better even than Penny, and + she left Betty and George nowhere. + </p> + <p> + She had an endless repertory of amphibious stunts which she performed with + gusto, and in the intervals she took an equal satisfaction in watching + Penny's heroic but generally disastrous attempts to imitate them. + </p> + <p> + The other two splashed around aimlessly and now and then remonstrated. + </p> + <p> + Now, it's all very well to talk about two hearts beating as one, and in + the accepted poetical sense of the words, of course Genevieve's and + George's did. But as a matter of physiological fact, they didn't. At the + end of twenty minutes or so George began turning a delicate blue and a + clatter as of distant castanets provided an obligato when he spoke, the + same being performed by George's teeth. + </p> + <p> + The person who made these observations was Betty. + </p> + <p> + "You'd better go out," she said. "You're freezing." + </p> + <p> + It ought to have been Genevieve who said it, of course, though the fact + that she was under water more than half the time might be advanced as her + excuse for failing to say it. But who could venture to excuse the + downright callous way in which she exclaimed, "Already? Why we've just got + in! Come along and dive through that wave. That'll warm you up!" + </p> + <p> + It was plain to George that she didn't care whether he was cold or not. + And, though the idea wouldn't quite go into words, it was also clear to + him that an ideal wife—a really womanly wife—would have turned + blue just a little before he began to. + </p> + <p> + "Thanks," he said, in a cold blue voice that matched the color of his + finger nails. "I think I've had enough." + </p> + <p> + Betty came splashing along beside him. + </p> + <p> + "I'm going out, too," she said. "We'll leave these porpoises to their + innocent play." + </p> + <p> + This was almost pure amiability, because she wasn't cold, and she'd been + having a pretty good time. Her other (practically negligible) motive was + that Penny might be reminded, by her withdrawal, of his forgotten promise + to teach her to float—and be sorry. Altogether, George would have + been showing only a natural and reasonable sense of his obligations if + he'd brightened up and flirted with her a little, instead of glooming out + to sea the way he did, paying simply no attention to her at all. So at + last she pricked him. + </p> + <p> + "Isn't it funny," she said, "the really blighting contempt that swimmers + feel for people who can't feel at home in the water—people who gasp + and shiver and keep their heads dry?" + </p> + <p> + She could see that, in one way, this remark had done George good. It + helped warm him up. Leaning back on her hands, as she did, she could see + the red come up the back of his neck and spread into his ears. But it + didn't make him conversationally any more exciting. He merely grunted. So + she tried again. + </p> + <p> + "I suppose," she said dreamily, "that the myth about mermaids must be + founded in fact. Or is it sirens I'm thinking about? Perfectly + fascinating, irresistible women, who lure men farther and farther out, in + the hope of a kiss or something, until they get exhausted and drown. I'll + really be glad when Penny gets back alive." + </p> + <p> + "And I shall be very glad," said George, trying hard for a tone of + condescending indifference appropriate for use with one who has played + dolls with one's little sister, "I shall really be very glad when you make + up your mind what you are going to do with Penny. He's just about a total + loss down at the office as it is, and he's getting a worse idiot from day + to day. And the worst of it is, I imagine you know all the while what + you're going to do about it—whether you're going to take him or + not." + </p> + <p> + The girl flushed at that. He was being almost too outrageously rude, even + for George. But before she said anything to that effect, she thought of + something better. + </p> + <p> + "I shall never marry any man," she said very intensely, "whose heart is + not with the Cause. You know what Cause I mean, George—the Suffrage + Cause. When I see thoughtless girls handing over their whole lives to men + who..." + </p> + <p> + It sounded like the beginning of an oration. + </p> + <p> + "Good Lord!" her victim cried. "Isn't there anything else than that to + talk about—<i>ever</i>?" + </p> + <p> + "But just think how lucky you are, George," she said, "that at home they + all think exactly as you do!" + </p> + <p> + He jumped up. Evidently this reminder of the purring acquiescences of + Cousin Emelene and Mrs. Brewster-Smith laid no balm upon his harassed + spirit. + </p> + <p> + "You may leave my home alone, if you please." + </p> + <p> + He was frightfully annoyed, of course, or he wouldn't have said anything + as crude as that. In a last attempt to recover his scattered dignity, he + caught at his office manner. "By the way," he said, "you forgot to remind + me today to write a letter to that Eliot woman about Mrs. Brewster-Smith's + cottages." + </p> + <p> + With that he stalked away to dress. Genevieve and Penny, now shoreward + bound, hailed him. But it wasn't quite impossible to pretend he didn't + hear, and he did it. + </p> + <p> + The dinner afterward at the Sea Light Inn was a rather gloomy affair. + George's lonely grandeur was only made the worse, it seemed, by + Genevieve's belated concern lest he might have taken cold through not + having gone and dressed directly he came out of the water. Genevieve then + turned very frosty to Penny, having decided suddenly that it was all his + fault. + </p> + <p> + As for Betty, though she was as amiable a little soul as breathed, she + didn't see why she should make any particular effort to console Penny, + just because his little flirtation with Genevieve had stopped with a bump. + </p> + <p> + Even the ride home in the moonlight didn't help much. Genevieve sat beside + George on the front seat, and between them there stretched a tense, tragic + silence. In the back seat with Penfield Evans, and in the intervals of + frustrating his attempts to hold her hand, Betty considered how + frightfully silly young married couples could be over microscopic + differences. + </p> + <p> + But Betty was wrong here and the married pair on the front seat were + right. + </p> + <p> + Just reflect for a minute what Genevieve's George was. He was her knight, + her Bayard, her thoroughly Tennysonian King Arthur. The basis of her + adoration was that he should remain like that. You can see then what a + staggering experience it was to have caught herself, even for a minute, in + the act of smiling over him as sulky and absurd. + </p> + <p> + And think of George's Genevieve! A saint enshrined, that his soul could + profitably bow down before whenever it had leisure to escape from the + activities of a wicked world. Fancy his horror over the mere suspicion + that she could be indifferent to his wishes—his comfort—even + his health, because of a mere tomboy flirtation with a man who could swim + better than he could! Most women were like that, he knew—vain, + shallow, inconstant creatures! But was not his pearl an exception? It was + horrible to have to doubt it. + </p> + <p> + By three o'clock the next morning, after many tears and much grave + discourse, they succeeded in getting these doubts to sleep—killing + them, they'd have said, beyond the possibility of resurrection. It was the + others who had made all the trouble. If only they could have the world to + themselves—no Cousin Emelene, no Alys Brewster-Smith, no Penfield + Evans and Betty Sheridan, with their frivolity and low ideals, to + complicate things! An Arcadian Island in some Aeonian Sea. + </p> + <p> + "Well," he said hopefully, "our home can be like that. It shall be like + that, when we get rid of Alys and her horrible little girl, and Cousin + Emelene and her unspeakable cat. It shall be our world; and no troubles or + cares or worries shall ever get in there!" + </p> + <p> + She acquiesced in this prophecy, but even as she did so, cuddling her face + against his own, a low-down, unworthy spook, whose existence in her he + must never suspect, said audibly in her inner ear, "Much he knows about + it!" Betty did not forget to remind George of the letter he was to write + to Miss Eliot about taking over the agency of Mrs. Brewster-Smith's + cottages. In the composition of this letter George washed his hands of + responsibility with, you might say, antiseptic care. + </p> + <p> + He had taken pleasure in recommending Miss Eliot, he explained, and Mrs. + Brewster-Smith was acting on his recommendation. Any questions arising out + of the management of the property should be taken up directly with her + client. Miss Eliot would have no difficulty in understanding that the + enormous pressure of work which now beset him precluded him from having + anything more to do with the matter. + </p> + <p> + The letter was typed and inclosed in a big linen envelope, with the mess + of papers Alys had dumped upon his desk a few days previously, and it was + despatched forthwith by the office boy. + </p> + <p> + "There," said George on a note of grim satisfaction, "that's done!" + </p> + <p> + The grimness lasted, but the satisfaction did not. Or only until the + return of the office boy, half an hour later, with the identical envelope + and a three-line typewritten note from Miss Eliot. She was sorry to say, + she wrote, that she did not consider it advisable to undertake the agency + for the property in question. Thanking him, nevertheless, for his + courtesy, she was his very truly, E. Eliot. + </p> + <p> + George summoned Betty by means of the buzzer, and asked her, with icy + indignation, what she thought of that. But, as he was visibly bursting + with impatience to say what <i>he</i> thought of it, she gave him the + opportunity. + </p> + <p> + "I thought you advanced women," he said, "were supposed to stand by each + other—stand by all women—try to make things better for them. + One for all—all for one. That sort of thing. But it really works the + other way. It's just because a woman owns those cottages that Miss Eliot + won't have anything to do with them. She knows that women are unreasonable + and hard to get on with in business matters, so she passes the buck! Back + to a man, if you please, who hasn't any more real responsibility for it + than she has." + </p> + <p> + There was, of course, an obvious retort to this; namely, that business was + business, and that a business woman had the same privilege a business man + had, of declining a job that looked as if it would entail more bother than + it was worth. But Betty couldn't quite bring herself to take this line. + Women, if they could ever get the chance (through the vote and in other + ways), were going to make the world a better place—run it on a + better lot of ideals. It wouldn't do to begin justifying women on the + ground that they were only doing what men did. As well abandon the whole + crusade right at the beginning. + </p> + <p> + George saw her looking rather thoughtful, and pressed his advantage. + Suppose Betty went and saw Miss Eliot personally, sometime today, and + urged her to reconsider. The business didn't amount to much, it was true, + and it no doubt involved the adjustment of some troublesome details. But + unless Miss Eliot would undertake it, he wouldn't know just where to turn. + Alys had quarreled with Allen, and Sampson was a skate. And perhaps a + little plain talk to Alys about the condition of the cottages—"from + one of her own sex," George said this darkly and looked away out of the + window at the time—might be productive of good. + </p> + <p> + "All right," Betty agreed, "I'll see what I can do. It's kind of hard to + go to a woman you barely know by sight, and talk to her about her duty, + but I guess I'm game. If you can spare me, I'll go now and get it over + with." + </p> + <p> + There were no frills about Edith Eliot's real estate office, though the + air of it was comfortably busy and prosperous. + </p> + <p> + The place had once been a store. An architect's presentation of an + apartment building, now rather dusty, occupied the show-window. There was + desk accommodation for two or three of those bright young men who make a + selection of keys and take people about to look at houses; there was a + stenographer's desk with a stenographer sitting at it; and back of a table + in the corner, in the attitude of one making herself as comfortable as the + heat of the day would permit, while she scowled over a voluminous + typewritten document, was E. Eliot herself. It was almost superfluous to + mention that her name was Edith. She never signed it, and there was no + one, in Whitewater anyway, who called her by it. + </p> + <p> + She was a big-boned young woman (that is, if you call the middle thirties + young), with an intelligent, homely face, which probably got the + attraction some people surprisingly found in it from the fact that she + thought nothing about its looks one way or the other. It was rather red + when Betty came in, and she was making it rapidly redder with the vigorous + ministrations of a man's-size handkerchief. + </p> + <p> + She greeted Betty with a cordial "how-de-doo," motioned her to the other + chair at the table (Betty had a fleeting wish that she might have dusted + it before she sat down), and asked what she could do for her. + </p> + <p> + "I'm from Mr. Remington's office," Betty said, "Remington and Evans. He + wrote you a note this morning about some cottages that belong to a cousin + of his, Mrs. Brewster-Smith." + </p> + <p> + "I answered that note by his own messenger," said E. Eliot. "He should + have got the reply before this." "Oh, he got it," said Betty, "and was + rather upset about it. What I've come for, is to urge you to reconsider." + </p> + <p> + E. Eliot smiled rather grimly at her blotting-pad, looked up at Betty, and + allowed her smile to change its quality. What she said was not what she + had meant to say before she looked up. E. Eliot was always upbraiding + herself for being sentimental about youth and beauty in her own sex. She'd + never been beautiful, and she'd never been young—not young like + Betty. But the upbraidings never did any good. + </p> + <p> + She said: "I thought I had considered sufficiently when I answered Mr. + Remington's note. But it's possible I hadn't. What is it you think I may + have overlooked?" + </p> + <p> + "Why," said Betty, "George thought the reason you wouldn't take the + cottages was because a woman owned them. He used it as a sort of example + of how women wouldn't stick together. He said that you probably knew that + women were unreasonable and hard to deal with and didn't want the bother." + </p> + <p> + It disconcerted Betty a little that E. Eliot interposed no denial at this + point, though she'd paused to give her the opportunity. + </p> + <p> + "You see," she went on a little breathlessly, "I'm for women suffrage and + economic independence and all that. I think it's perfectly wonderful that + you should be doing what you are—showing that women can be just as + successful in business as men can. Of course I know that you've got a + perfect <i>right</i> to do just what a man would do—refuse to take a + piece of business that wasn't worth while. But—but what we hope is, + and what we want to show men is, that when women get into politics and + business they'll be better and less selfish." + </p> + <p> + "Which do you mean will be better?" E. Eliot inquired. "The politics and + the business, or the women?" + </p> + <p> + "I mean the politics and the business," Betty told her rather frostily. + Was the woman merely making fun of her? + </p> + <p> + E. Eliot caught the note. "I meant my question seriously," she said. "It + has a certain importance. But I didn't mean to interrupt you. Go ahead." + "Well," Betty said, "that's about all. George—Mr. Remington—that + is—is running for district attorney, and he has come out against + suffrage as you know. I thought perhaps this was a chance to convert him a + little. It would be a great favor to him, anyway, if you took the + cottages; because he doesn't know whom to turn to, if you won't. I didn't + come to try to tell you what your duty is, but I thought perhaps you + hadn't just looked at it that way." + </p> + <p> + "All right," said E. Eliot. "Now I'll tell you how I do look at it. In the + first place, about doing business for women. It all depends on the woman + you're doing business with. If she's had the business training of a man, + she's as easy to deal with as a man. If she's never had any business + training at all, if business doesn't mean anything to her except some + vague hocus-pocus that produces her income, then she's seven kinds of a + Tartar. + </p> + <p> + "She has no more notion about what she has a right to expect from other + people, or what they've a right to expect from her, than a white Angora + cat. Of course, the majority of women who have property to attend to have + had it dumped on their hands in middle life, or after, by the wills of + loving husbands. Those women, I'll say frankly, are the devil and all to + deal with. But it's their husbands' and fathers' fault, and not their own. + Anyhow, that isn't the reason I wouldn't take those cottages. + </p> + <p> + "It was the cottages themselves, and not the woman who owned them, that + decided me. That whole Kentwood district is a disgrace to civilization. + The sanitary conditions are filthy; have been for years. The owners have + been resisting condemnation proceedings right along, on the ground that + the houses brought in so little rental that it would be practical + confiscation to compel them to make any improvements. Now, since the war + boon struck the mills, and every place with four walls and a roof is full, + they're saying they can't afford to make any change because of the + frightful loss they'd suffer in potential profits. + </p> + <p> + "Well, when you agree to act as a person's agent, you've got to act in + that person's interest; and when it's a question of the interest of the + owners of those Kentwood cottages, whether they're men or women, my idea + was that I didn't care for the job." + </p> + <p> + "I think you're perfectly right about it," Betty said. "I wouldn't have + come to urge you to change your mind, if I had understood what the + situation was. But," here she held out her hand, "I'm glad I did come, and + I wish we might meet again sometime and get acquainted and talk about + things." + </p> + <p> + "No time like the present," said E. Eliot. "Sit down again, if you've got + a minute." She added, as Betty dropped back into her chair, "You're + Elizabeth Sheridan, aren't you?—Judge Sheridan's daughter? And + you're working as a stenographer for Remington and Evans?" + </p> + <p> + Betty nodded and stammered out the beginning of an apology for not having + introduced herself earlier. But the older woman waved this aside. + </p> + <p> + "What I really want to know," she went on, "if it isn't too outrageous a + question, is what on earth you're doing it for—working in that law + office, I mean?" + </p> + <p> + It was a question Betty was well accustomed to answering. But coming from + this source, it surprised her into a speechless stare. + </p> + <p> + "Why," she said at last, "I do it because I believe in economic + independence for women. Don't you? But of course you do." + </p> + <p> + "I don't know," said E. Eliot. "I believe in food and clothes, and money + to pay the rent, and the only way I have ever found of having those things + was to get out and earn them. But if ever I make money enough to give me + an independent income half the size of what yours must be, I'll retire + from business in short order." + </p> + <p> + "Do you know," said Betty, "I don't believe you would. I think you're + mistaken. I don't believe a woman like you could live without working." + </p> + <p> + "I didn't say I'd quit working," said E. Eliot. "I said I'd quit business. + That's another thing. There's plenty of real work in the world that won't + earn you a living. Lord! Don't I see it going by right here in this + office! There are things I just itch to get my hands into, and I have to + wait and tell myself 'some day, perhaps!' There's a thing I'd like to do + now, and that's to take a hand in this political campaign for district + attorney. It would kill my business deader than Pharaoh's aunt, so I've + got to let it go. But it would certainly put your friend George Remington + up a tall tree." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, you're a suffragist, then?" Betty exclaimed eagerly. "I was wondering + about that. I've never seen you at any of our meetings." + </p> + <p> + "I'm a suffragist, all right," said E. Eliot, "but as your meetings are + mostly held in the afternoons, when I'm pretty busy, I haven't been able + to get 'round. + </p> + <p> + "I'm curious about Remington," she went on. "I've known him a little, for + years. When I worked for Allen, I used to see him quite often in the + office. And I'd always rather liked him. So that I was surprised, clear + down to the ground, when I read that statement of his in the <i>Sentinel</i>. + I'd never thought he was <i>that</i> sort. And from the fact that you work + in his office and like him well enough to call him George one might almost + suppose he wasn't." + </p> + <p> + Clearly Betty was puzzled. "Of course," she said, "I think his views about + women are obsolete and ridiculous. But I don't see what they've got to do + with liking him or not, personally." + </p> + <p> + E. Eliot's smile became grim again, but she said nothing, so Betty asked a + direct question. + </p> + <p> + "That was what you meant, wasn't it?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes," the other woman said, "that was what I meant. Why, if you don't + mind plain speaking, it's been my observation that the sort of men who + think the world is too indecent for decent women to go out into, generally + have their own reasons for knowing how indecent it is; and that when they + spring a line of talk like that, they're being sickening hypocrites into + the bargain." + </p> + <p> + Betty's face had gone flame color. + </p> + <p> + "George isn't like that at all," she said. "He's—he's really fine. + He's old-fashioned and sentimental about women, but he isn't a hypocrite. + He really means those things he says. Why..." + </p> + <p> + And then Betty went on to tell her new friend about Cousin Emelene and + Alys Brewster-Smith, and how George, though he writhed, had stood the + gaff. + </p> + <p> + "A grown-up man," E. Eliot summed up, "who honestly believes that women + are made of something fine and fragile, and that they ought to be kept + where even the wind can't blow upon them! But good heavens, child, if he + really means that, it makes it all the better for what I was thinking of. + You don't understand, of course. I hadn't meant to tell you, but I've + changed my mind. + </p> + <p> + "Listen now. That statement in the <i>Sentinel</i> has set the town + talking, of course, and stirred up a lot of feeling, for and against + suffrage. But what it would be worth as an issue to go to the mat with on + election day, is exactly nothing at all. You go out and ask a voter to + vote against a candidate for district attorney because he's an + anti-suffragist, and he'll say, 'What difference does it make? It isn't up + to him to give women the vote. It doesn't matter to me what his private + opinions are, as long as he makes a good district attorney!' But there is + an issue that we <i>can</i> go to the mat with, and so far it hasn't been + raised at all. There hasn't been a peep." She reached over and laid a hand + on Betty's arm. + </p> + <p> + "Do you know what the fire protection laws for factories are? And do you + know that it's against the law for women to work in factories at night? + Well, and do you know what the conditions are in every big mill in this + town? With this boom in war orders, they've simply taken off the lid. + Anything goes. The fire and building ordinances are disregarded, and for + six months the mills have been running a night shift as well as a day + shift, on Sundays and week-days, and three-quarters of their operatives + are women. Those women go to work at seven o'clock at night, and quit at + six in the morning; and they have an hour off from twelve to one in the + middle of the night. + </p> + <p> + "Now do you see? It's up to the district attorney to enforce the law. + Isn't it fair to ask this defender of the home whether he believes that + women should be home at night or not, and if he does, what he's going to + do about it? Talk about slogans! The situation bristles with them! We + could placard this town with a lot of big black-faced questions that would + make it the hottest place for George Remington that he ever found himself + in. + </p> + <p> + "Well, it would be pretty good campaign work if he was the hypocrite I + took him to be, from his stuff in the <i>Sentinel</i>. But if he's on the + level, as you think he is, there's a chance—don't you see there's a + chance that he'd come out flat-footed for the enforcement of the law? And + if he did!... Child, can you see what would happen if he <i>did</i>?" + </p> + <p> + Betty's eyes were shining like a pair of big sapphires. When she spoke, it + was in a whisper like an excited child. + </p> + <p> + "I can see a little," she said. "I think I can see. But tell me." + </p> + <p> + "In the first place," said E. Eliot, "see whom he'd have against him. + There'd be the best people, to start with. Most of them are stockholders + in the mills. Why, you must be, yourself, in the Jaffry-Bradshaw Company! + Your father was, anyway." + </p> + <p> + Betty nodded. + </p> + <p> + "You want to be sure you know what it means," the older woman went on. + "This thing might cut into your dividends, if it went through." + </p> + <p> + "I hope it will," said Betty fiercely. "I never realized before that my + money was earned like that—by women, girls of my age, standing over + a machine all night." She shivered. "And there are some of us, I'm sure," + she went on, "who would feel the way I do about it." + </p> + <p> + "Well,—some," E. Eliot admitted. "Not many, though. And then there + are the merchants. These are great times for them—town crammed with + people, all making money, and buying right and left. And then there's the + labor vote itself! A lot of laboring men would be against him. Their women + just now are earning as much as they are. There are a lot of these men—whatever + they might say—who'd take good care not to vote for a man who would + prevent their daughters from bringing in the fifteen, twenty, or + twenty-five dollars a week they get for that night work. + </p> + <p> + "Well, and who would be with him? Why, the women themselves. The one + chance on earth he'd have for election would be to have the women + organized and working for him, bringing every ounce of influence they had + to bear on their men—on all the men they knew. + </p> + <p> + "Mind you, I don't believe he could win at that. But, win or lose, he'd + have done something. He'd have shown the women that they needed the vote, + and he'd have found out for himself—he and the other men who believe + in fair human treatment for everybody—that they can't secure that + treatment without women's votes. That's the real issue. It isn't that + women are better than men, or that they could run the world better if they + got the chance. It's that men and women have got to work together to do + the things that need doing." + </p> + <p> + "You're perfectly wonderful," said Betty, and sat thereafter, for perhaps + a minute and a half, in an entranced silence. + </p> + <p> + Then, with a shake of the head, a straightening of the spine, and a good, + deep, business-like preliminary breath, she turned to her new friend and + said, "Well, shall we do it?" + </p> + <p> + This time it was E. Eliot's turn to gasp. + </p> + <p> + She hadn't expected to have a course of action put up to her in that + instantaneous and almost casual manner. She wasn't young like Betty. She'd + been working hard ever since she was seventeen years old. She'd succeeded, + in a way, to be sure. But her success had taught her how hard success is + to obtain. She saw much farther into the consequences of the proposed + campaign than Betty could see. She realized the bitter animosity that it + would provoke. She knew it was well within the probabilities that her + business would be ruined by it. + </p> + <p> + She sat there silent for a while, her face getting grimmer and grimmer all + the time. But she turned at last and looked into the eager face of the + girl beside her, and she smiled,—though even the smile was grim. + </p> + <p> + "All right," she said, holding out her hand to bind the bargain. "We'll + start and we'll stick. And here's hoping! We'd better lunch together, + hadn't we?" + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. BY ANNE O'HAGAN + </h2> + <p> + Mr. Benjamin Doolittle, by profession White-water's leading furniture + dealer and funeral director, and by the accident of political fortune the + manager of Mr. George Remington's campaign, sat in his candidate's private + office, and from time to time restrained himself from hasty speech by the + diplomatic and dexterous use of a quid of tobacco. + </p> + <p> + He found it difficult to preserve his philosophy in the face of George + Remington's agitation over the woman's suffrage issue. + </p> + <p> + "It's the last time," he had frequently informed his political cronies + since the opening of the campaign, "that I'll wet-nurse a new-fledged + candidate. They've got at least to have their milk teeth through if they + want Benjamin Doolittle after this." To George, itchingly aware through + all his rasped nerves of Mrs. Herrington's letter in that morning's <i>Sentinel</i> + asking him to refute, if he could, an abominable half column of statistics + in regard to legislation in the Woman Suffrage States, the furniture + dealer was drawling pacifically: + </p> + <p> + "Now, George, you made a mistake in letting the women get your goat. Don't + pay no attention to them. Of course their game's fair enough. I will say + that you gave them their opening; stood yourself for a target with that + statement of yours. Howsomever, you ain't obligated to keep on acting as + the nigger head in the shooting gallery. + </p> + <p> + "Let 'em write; let 'em ask questions in the papers; let 'em heckle you on + the stump. All that you've got to say is that you've expressed your + personal convictions already, and that you've stood by those convictions + in your private life, and that as you ain't up for legislator, the + question don't really concern your candidacy. And that, as you're running + for district attorney, you will, with their kind permission, proceed to + the subjects that do concern you there—the condition of the court + calendar of Whitewater County, the prosecution of the racetrack gamblers + out at Erie Oval, and so forth, and so forth. + </p> + <p> + "You laid yourself open, George, but you ain't obligated in law or equity + to keep on presenting yourself bare chest for their outrageous slings and + arrows." + </p> + <p> + "Of course, what you say about their total irrelevancy is quite true," + said George, making the concession so that it had all the belligerency of + a challenge. "But of course I would never have consented to run for office + at the price of muzzling my convictions." + </p> + <p> + Mr. Doolittle wearily agreed that that was more than could be expected + from any candidate of the high moral worth of George Remington. Then he + went over a list of places throughout the county where George was to speak + during the next week, and intimated dolefully that the committee could use + a little more money, if it had it. + </p> + <p> + He expressed it thus: "A few more contributions wouldn't put any strain to + speak of on our pants' pockets. Anything more to be got out of Old Martin + Jaffry? Don't he realize that blood's thicker than water?" + </p> + <p> + "I'll speak to him," growled George. + </p> + <p> + He hated Mr. Benjamin Doolittle's colloquialisms, though once he had + declared them amusing, racy, of the soil, and had rebuked Genevieve's + fastidious criticisms of them on an occasion when she had interpreted her + rôle of helpmeet to include that of hostess to Mr. and Mrs. Doolittle—oh, + not in her own home, of course!—at luncheon, at the Country Club! + </p> + <p> + "Well, I guess that's about all for today." + </p> + <p> + Mr. Doolittle brought the conference to a close, hoisting himself by links + from his chair. + </p> + <p> + "It takes $3000 every time you circularize the constituency, you know——" + </p> + <p> + He lounged toward the window and looked out again upon the pleasant, + mellow scene around Fountain Square. And with the look his affectation of + bucolic calm dropped from him. He turned abruptly. + </p> + <p> + "What's that going on at McMonigal's corner?" he demanded sharply. "I + don't know, I am sure," said George, with indifference, still bent upon + teaching his manager that he was a free and independent citizen, in + leading strings to no man. "It's been vacant since the fire in March, when + Petrosini's fish market and Miss Letterblair's hat st——" + </p> + <p> + He had reached the window himself by this time, and the sentence was + destined to remain forever unfinished. + </p> + <p> + From the low, old-fashioned brick building on the northeast corner of + Fountain Square, whose boarded eyes had stared blindly across toward the + glittering orbs of its towering neighbor, the Jaffry Building, for six + months, a series of great placards flared. + </p> + <p> + Planks had been removed from the windows, plate glass restored, and behind + it he read in damnable irritation: + </p> + <p> + "SOME QUESTIONS FOR CANDIDATE REMINGTON." + </p> + <p> + A foot high, an inch broad, black as Erebus, the letters shouted at him + against an orange background. Every window of the second story contained a + placard. On the first story, in the show window where Petrosini had been + wont to ravish epicurean eyes by shad and red snapper, perch and trout, + cunningly imbedded in ice blocks upon a marble slab—in that window, + framed now in the hated orange and black, stood a woman. + </p> + <p> + She was turning backward, for the benefit of onlookers who pressed close + to the glass, the leaves of a mammoth pad resting upon an easel. + </p> + <p> + From their point of vantage in the second story of the Jaffry Building, + the candidate and his manager could see that each sheet bore that horrid + headline: + </p> + <p> + "QUESTIONS FOR CANDIDATE REMINGTON." + </p> + <p> + The whole population of White water, it seemed to George, was crowded + about that corner. + </p> + <p> + "I'll be back in a minute," said Benjie Doolittle, disappearing through + the private office door with the black tails of his coat achieving a true + horizontal behind him. As statesman and as undertaker, Mr. Doolittle never + swerved from the garment which keeps green the memory of the late Prince + Consort. + </p> + <p> + As the door opened, the much-tried George Remington had a glimpse of that + pleasing industrial unit, Betty Sheridan, searching through the file for + the copy of the letter to the Cummunipaw Steel Works, which he had + recently demanded to see. He pressed the buzzer imperiously, and Betty + responded with duteous haste. He pointed through the window to the crowd + in front of McMonigal's block. + </p> + <p> + "Perhaps," he said, with what seemed to him Spartan self-restraint, "<i>you</i> + can explain the meaning of that scene." + </p> + <p> + Betty looked out with an air of intelligent interest. + </p> + <p> + "Oh yes!" she said vivaciously. "I think I can. It's a Voiceless Speech." + </p> + <p> + "A voice l—" George's own face was a voiceless speech as he repeated + two syllables of his stenographer's explanation. + </p> + <p> + "Yes. Don't you know about voiceless speeches? It's antiquated to try to + run any sort of a campaign without them nowadays." + </p> + <p> + "Perhaps you also know who that—female—" again George's power + of utterance failed him. Betty came closer to the window and peered out. + </p> + <p> + "It's Frances Herrington who is turning the leaves now," she said amiably. + "I know her by that ducky toque." + </p> + <p> + "Frances Herrington! What Harvey Herrington is thinking of to allow——" + George's emotion constrained him to broken utterance. "And we're dining + there tonight! She has no sense of the decencies—the—the—the + hospitality of existence. We won't go—I'll telephone Genevieve——" + </p> + <p> + "Fie, fie Georgie!" observed Betty. "Why be personal over a mere detail of + a political campaign?" + </p> + <p> + But before George could tell her why his indignation against his + prospective hostess was impersonal and unemotional, the long figure of Mr. + Doolittle again projected itself upon the scene. + </p> + <p> + Betty effaced herself, gliding from the inner office, and George turned a + look of inquiry upon his manager. + </p> + <p> + "Well?" the monosyllable had all the force of profanity. + </p> + <p> + "Well, the women, durn them, have brought suffrage into your campaign." + </p> + <p> + "How?" + </p> + <p> + "How? They've got a list of every blamed law on the statute books relating + to women and children, and they're asking on that sheet of leaves over + there, if you mean to proceed against all who are breaking those laws here + in Whitewater County. And right opposite your own office! It's—it's + damn smart. You ought to have got that Herrington woman on your + committee." + </p> + <p> + "It's indelicate, unwomanly, indecent. It shows into what unsexed + degradation politics will drag woman. But I'm relieved that that's all + they're asking. Of course, I shall enforce the law for the protection of + every class in our community with all the power of the——" + </p> + <p> + "Oh, shucks! There's nobody here but me—you needn't unfurl Old + Glory," counseled Mr. Doolittle, a trifle impatiently. "They're asking + real questions, not blowing off hot-air. Oh, I say, who owns McMonigal's + block since the old man died? We'll have the owner stop this circus. + That's the first thing to do." + </p> + <p> + "I'll telephone Allen. He'll know." + </p> + <p> + Allen's office was very obliging and would report on the ownership on + McMonigal's block in ten minutes. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Doolittle employed the interval in repeating to George some of the + "Questions for Candidate Remington," illegible from George's desk. + </p> + <p> + "You believe that 'WOMAN'S PLACE IS IN THE HOME.' Will you enforce the law + against woman's night work in the factories? Over nine hundred women of + Whitewater County are doing night work in the munition plants of Airport, + Whitewater and Ondegonk. What do you mean to do about it?" + </p> + <p> + "You 'DESIRE TO CONSERVE THE THREATENED FLOWER OF WOMANHOOD.'" + </p> + <p> + A critical listener would have caught a note of ribald scorn in Mr. + Doolittle's drawl, as he quoted from his candidate's statement, via the + voiceless speech placards. + </p> + <p> + "To conserve the threatened flower of womanhood, the grape canneries of + Omega and Onicrom Townships are employing children of five and six years + in defiance of the Child Labor Law of this State. Are you going to proceed + against them?" + </p> + <p> + "'WOMAN IS MAN'S RAREST HERITAGE.' Do you think man ought to burn her + alive? Remember the Livingston Loomis-Ladd collar factory fire—fourteen + women killed, forty-eight maimed. In how many of the factories in + Whitewater, in which women work, are the fire laws obeyed? Do you mean to + enforce them?" + </p> + <p> + The telephone interrupted Mr. Doolittle's hateful litany. + </p> + <p> + Alien's bright young man begged to report that McMonigal's block was held + in fee simple by the widow of the late Michael McMonigal. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Doolittle juggled the leaves of the telephone directory with the + dazzling swiftness of a Japanese ball thrower, and in a few seconds he was + speaking to the relict of the late Michael. + </p> + <p> + George watched him with fevered eyes, listened with fevered ears. The + conversation, it was easy to gather, did not proceed as Mr. Doolittle + wished. + </p> + <p> + "Oh! in entire charge—E. Eliot. Oh! In sympathy yourself. Oh, come + now, Mrs. McMonigal——" + </p> + <p> + But Mrs. McMonigal did not come now. The campaign manager frowned as he + replaced the receiver. + </p> + <p> + "Widow owns the place. That Eliot woman is the agent. The suffrage gang + has the owner's permission to use the building from now on to election. + She says she's in sympathy. Well, we'll have to think of something——" + </p> + <p> + "It's easy enough," declared George. "I'll simply have a set of posters + printed answering their questions. And we'll engage sandwich men to carry + them in front of McMonigal's windows. Certainly I mean to enforce the law. + I'll give the order to the <i>Sentinel</i> press now for the answers—definite, + dignified answers." "See here, George." Mr. Doolittle interrupted him with + unusual weightiness of manner. "It's too far along in the campaign for you + to go flying off on your own. You've got to consult your managers. This is + your first campaign; it's my thirty-first. You've got to take advice——" + </p> + <p> + "I will not be muzzled." + </p> + <p> + "Shucks! Who wants to muzzle, anybody! But you can't say everything that's + inside of you, can you? There's got to be some choosing. We've got to help + you choose. + </p> + <p> + "The silly questions the women are displaying over there—you can't + answer 'em in a word or in two words. This city is having a boom; every + valve factory in the valley, every needle and pin factory, is makin' + munitions today—valves and needles and pins all gone by the board + for the time being. Money's never been so plenty in Whitewater County and + this city is feelin' the benefits of it. People are buying things—clothes, + flour, furniture, victrolas, automobiles, rum. + </p> + <p> + "There ain't a merchant of any description in this county but his business + is booming on account of the work in the factories. You can't antagonize + the whole population of the place. Why, I dare say, some of your own money + and Mrs. Remington's is earning three times what it was two years ago. The + First National Bank has just declared a fifteen per cent. dividend, and + Martin Jaffry owns fifty-four per cent. of the stock. + </p> + <p> + "You don't want to put brakes on prosperity. It ain't decent citizenship + to try it. It ain't neighborly. Think of the lean years we've known. You + can't do it. This war won't last forever—" Mr. Doolittle's voice was + tinged with regret—"and it will be time enough to go in for playing + the deuce with business when business gets slack again. That's the time + for reforms, George,—when things are dull." + </p> + <p> + George was silent, the very presentment of a sorely harassed young man. He + had not, even in a year when blamelessness rather than experience was his + party's supreme need in a candidate, become its banner bearer without + possessing certain political apperceptions. He knew, as Benjie Doolittle + spoke, that Benjie spoke the truth—White-water city and county would + never elect a man who had too convincingly promised to interfere with the + prosperity of the city and county. + </p> + <p> + "Better stick to the gambling out at Erie Oval, George," counseled the + campaign manager. "They're mostly New Yorkers that are interested in that, + anyway." + </p> + <p> + "I'll not reply without due consideration and—er—notice," + George sullenly acceded to his manager and to necessity. But he hated both + Doolittle and necessity at the moment. + </p> + <p> + That sun-bright vision of himself which so splendidly and sustainingly + companioned him, which spoke in his most sonorous periods, which so + completely and satisfyingly commanded the reverence of Genevieve—that + George Remington of his brave imaginings would not thus have answered + Benjamin Doolittle. + </p> + <p> + Through the silence following the furniture man's departure, Betty, at the + typewriter, clicked upon Georgie's ears. An evil impulse assailed him—impolitic, + too, as he realized—impolitic but irresistible. It was the easiest + way in which candidate Remington, heckled by suffragists, overridden by + his campaign committee, mortifyingly tormented by a feeling of inadequacy, + could re-establish himself in his own esteem as a man of prompt and + righteous decisions. + </p> + <p> + He might not be able to run his campaign to suit himself, but, by Jove, + his office was his own! + </p> + <p> + He went into Betty's quarters and suggested to her that a due sense of the + eternal fitness of things would cause her to offer him her resignation, + which his own sense of the eternal fitness of things would lead him at + once to accept. + </p> + <p> + It seemed, he said, highly indecorous of her to remain in the employ of + Remington and Evans the while she was busily engaged in trying to thwart + the ambitions of the senior partner. He marveled that woman's boasted + sensitiveness had not already led her to perceive this for herself. + </p> + <p> + For a second, Betty seemed startled, even hurt. She colored deeply and her + eyes darkened. Then the flush of surprise and the wounded feeling died. + She looked at him blankly and asked how soon it would be possible for him + to replace her. She would leave as soon as he desired. + </p> + <p> + In her bearing, so much quieter than usual, in the look in her face, + George read a whole volume. He read that up to this time, Betty had + regarded her presence in the ranks of his political enemies as she would + have regarded being opposed to him in a tennis match. He read that he, + with that biting little speech which he already wished unspoken, had given + her a sudden, sinister illumination upon the relations of working women to + their employers. + </p> + <p> + He read the question in the back of her mind. Suppose (so it ran in his + constructive fancy) that instead of being a prosperous, protected young + woman playing the wage-earner more or less as Marie Antoinette had played + the milkmaid, she had been Mamie Riley across the hall, whose work was + bitter earnest, whose earnings were not pin-money, but bread and meat and + brother's schooling and mother's health—would George still have made + the stifling of her views the price of her position? + </p> + <p> + And if George—George, the kind, friendly, clean-minded man would + drive that bargain, what bargain might not other men, less gentle, less + noble, drive? + </p> + <p> + All this George's unhappily sensitized conscience read into Betty + Sheridan's look, even as the imp who urged him on bade him tell her that + she could leave at her own convenience; at once, if she pleased; the + supply of stenographers in Whitewater was adequately at demand. + </p> + <p> + He rather wished that Penny Evans would come in; Penny would doubtless + take a high hand with him concerning the episode, and there was nothing + which George Remington would have welcomed like an antagonist of his own + size and sex. + </p> + <p> + But Penny did not appear, and the afternoon passed draggingly for the + candidate for the district attorneyship. He tried to busy himself with the + affairs of his clients, but even when he could keep away from his windows + he was aware of the crowds in front of McMonigal's block, of Frances + Herrington, her "ducky" toque and her infernal voiceless speech. + </p> + <p> + And when, for a second, he was able to forget these, he heard from the + outer office the unmistakable sounds of a desk being permanently cleared + of its present incumbent's belongings. + </p> + <p> + After a while, Betty bade him a too courteous good-by, still with that + abominable new air of gravely readjusting her old impressions of him. And + then there was nothing to do but to go home and make ready for dinner at + the Herrington's, unless he could induce Genevieve to have an opportune + headache. + </p> + <p> + Of course Betty had been right. Not upon his masculine shoulders should + there be laid the absurd burden of political chagrin strong enough to + break a social engagement. + </p> + <p> + Genevieve was in her room. The library was given over to Alys + Brewster-Smith, Cousin Emelene Brand, two rusty callers and the tea + things. Before the drawing-room fire, Hanna slept in Maltese + proprietorship. George longed with passion to kick the cat. + </p> + <p> + Genevieve, as he saw through the open door, sat by the window. She had, it + appeared, but recently come in. She still wore her hat and coat; she had + not even drawn off her gloves. And seeing her thus, absorbed in some + problem, George's sense of his wrongs grew greater. + </p> + <p> + He had, he told himself, hurried home out of the jar and fret of a man's + day to find balm, to feel the cool fingers of peace pressed upon hot + eyelids, to drink strengthening draughts of refreshment from his wife's + unquestioning belief, from the completeness of her absorption in him. And + here she sat thinking of something else! + </p> + <p> + Genevieve arose, a little startled as he snapped on the lights and grunted + out something which optimism might translate into an affectionate + husbandly greeting. She came dutifully forward and raised her face, still + exquisite and cool from the outer air, for her lord's home-coming kiss. + That resolved itself into a slovenly peck. + </p> + <p> + "Been out?" asked George unnecessarily. He tried to quell the unreasonable + inclination to find her lacking in wifely devotion because she had been + out. + </p> + <p> + "Yes. There was a meeting at the Woman's Forum this afternoon," she + answered. She was unpinning her hat before the pier glass, and in it he + could see the reflection of her eyes turned upon his image with a + questioning look. + </p> + <p> + "The ladies seem to be having a busy day of it." + </p> + <p> + He struggled not quite successfully to be facetious over the pretty, + negligible activities of his wife's sex. "What mighty theme engaged your + attention?" + </p> + <p> + "That Miss Eliot—the real estate woman, you know—" George + stiffened into an attitude of close attention—"spoke about the + conditions under which women are working in the mills in this city and in + the rest of the county—" Genevieve averted her mirrored eyes from + his mirrored face. She moved toward her dressing-table. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, she did! and is the Woman's Forum going to come to grips with the + industrial monster and bring in the millennium by the first of the year?" + </p> + <p> + But George was painfully aware that light banter which fails to be + convincingly light is but a snarl. + </p> + <p> + Genevieve colored slightly as she studied the condition of a pair of long + white gloves which she had taken from a drawer. + </p> + <p> + "Of course the Woman's Forum is only for discussion," she said mildly. "It + doesn't initiate any action." Then she raised her eyes to his face and + George felt his universe reel about him. + </p> + <p> + For his wife's beautiful eyes were turned upon him, not in limpid + adoration, not in perfect acceptance of all his views, unheard, unweighed; + but with a question in their blue depths. + </p> + <p> + The horrid clairvoyance which harassment and self-distrust had given him + that afternoon enabled him, he thought, to translate that look. The Eliot + woman, in her speech before the Woman's Forum, had doubtless placed the + responsibility for the continuation of those factory conditions upon the + district attorney's office, had doubtless repeated those damn fool, + impractical questions which the suffragists were displaying in McMonigal's + windows. + </p> + <p> + And Genevieve was asking them in her mind! Genevieve was questioning him, + his motives, his standards, his intentions! Genevieve was not + intellectually a charming mechanical doll who would always answer "yes" + and "no" as he pressed the strings, and maintain a comfortable vacuity + when he was not at hand to perform the kindly act. Genevieve was thinking + on her own account. What, he wondered angrily, as he dressed—for he + could not bring himself to ask her aid in escaping the Herringtons and, + indeed, was suddenly balky at the thought of the intimacies of a domestic + evening—<i>what</i> was she thinking? She was not such an imbecile + as to be unaware how large a share of her comfortable fortune was invested + in the local industry. Why, her father had been head of the Livingston + Loomis-Ladd Collar Company, when that dreadful fire—! And she + certainly knew that his uncle, Martin Jaffry, was the chief stockholder in + the Jaffry-Bradshaw Company. + </p> + <p> + What was the question in Genevieve's eyes? Was she asking if he were the + knight of those women who worked and sweated and burned, or of her and the + comfortable women of her class, of Alys Brewster-Smith with her little + cottages, of Cousin Emelene with her little stocks, of masquerading Betty + Sheridan whose sortie of independence was from the safe vantage-grounds of + entrenched privilege? + </p> + <p> + And all that evening as he watched his wife across the crystal and the + roses of the Herrington table, trying to interpret the question that had + been in her eyes, trying to interpret her careful silence, he realized + what every husband sooner or later awakes to realize—that he had + married a stranger. + </p> + <p> + He did not know her. He did not know what ambitions, what aspirations + apart from him, ruled the spirit behind that charming surface of flesh. + </p> + <p> + Of course she was good, of course she was tender, of course she was + high-minded! But how wide-enveloping was the cloak of her goodness? How + far did her tenderness reach out? Was her high-mindedness of the practical + or impractical variety? + </p> + <p> + From time to time, he caught her eyes in turn upon him, with that curious + little look of re-examination in their depths. She could look at him like + that! She could look at him as though appraisals were possible from a wife + to a husband! + </p> + <p> + They avoided industrial Whitewater County as a topic when they left the + Herrington's. They talked with great animation and interest of the people + at the party. Arrived at home, George, pleading press of work, went down + into the library while Genevieve went to bed. Carefully they postponed the + moment of making articulate all that, remaining unspoken, might be + ignored. + </p> + <p> + It was one o'clock and he had not moved a paper for an hour, when the + library door opened. + </p> + <p> + Genevieve stood there. She had sometimes come before when he had worked at + night, to chide him for neglecting sleep, to bring bouillon or chocolate. + But tonight she did neither. + </p> + <p> + She did not come far into the room, but standing near the door and looking + at him with a new expression—patient, tender, the everlasting + eternal look—she said: "I couldn't sleep, either. I came down to say + something, George. Don't interrupt me——" for he was coming + toward her with sounds of affectionate protest at her being out of bed. + "Don't speak! I want to say—whatever you do, whatever you decide—now—always—I + love you. Even if I don't agree, I love you." + </p> + <p> + She turned and went swiftly away. + </p> + <p> + George stood looking at the place where she had stood,—this strange, + new Genevieve, who, promising to love, reserved the right to judge. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. BY MARY HEATON VORSE + </h2> + <p> + The high moods of night do not always survive the clear, cold light of + day. Indeed it requires the contribution of both man and wife to keep a + high mood in married life. + </p> + <p> + Genevieve had gone in to make her profession of faith to her husband in a + mood which touched the high altitudes. She had gone without any conscious + expectation of anything from him in the way of response. She had vaguely + but confidingly expected him to live up to the moment. + </p> + <p> + She had expected something beautiful, a lovely flower of the spirit—comprehension, + generosity. Living up to the demand of the moment was George's forte. + Indeed, there were those among his friends who felt that there were + moments when George lived up to things too brightly and too beautifully. + His Uncle Jaffry, for instance, had his openly skeptical moments. But + George even lived up to his uncle's skepticism. He accepted his remarks + with charming good humor. It was his pride that he could laugh at himself. + </p> + <p> + At the moment of Genevieve's touching speech he lived up to exactly + nothing. He didn't even smile. He only stared at her—a stare which + said: + </p> + <p> + "Now what the devil do you mean by that?" + </p> + <p> + Genevieve had a flicker of bitter humor when she compared her moment of + sentiment to a toy balloon pulled down from the blue by an unsympathetic + hand. + </p> + <p> + The next morning, while George was still shaving, the telephone rang. It + was Betty. + </p> + <p> + "Can you have lunch with me at Thorne's, where we can talk?" she asked + Genevieve. "And give me a little time tomorrow afternoon?" + </p> + <p> + "Why," Geneviève responded, "I thought you were a working girl." + </p> + <p> + There was a perceptible pause before Betty replied. + </p> + <p> + "Hasn't George told you?" "Told what?" Genevieve inquired. "George hasn't + told me anything." + </p> + <p> + "I've left the office." + </p> + <p> + "Left! For heaven's sake, why?" + </p> + <p> + Betty's mind worked swiftly. + </p> + <p> + "Better treat it as a joke," was her decision. There was no pause before + she answered. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, trouble with the boss." + </p> + <p> + "You'll get over it. You're always having trouble with Penny. + </p> + <p> + "Oh," said Betty, "it's not with Penny this time." + </p> + <p> + "Not with George?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, with George," Betty answered. "Did you think one couldn't quarrel + with the noblest of his sex? Well, one can." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, Betty, I'm sorry." Genevieve's tone was slightly reproachful. + </p> + <p> + "Well, I'm not," said Betty. "I like my present job better. It was a good + thing he fired me." + </p> + <p> + "<i>Fired</i> you! George fired <i>you</i>?" + </p> + <p> + "Sure thing," responded Betty blithely. "I can't stand here talking all + day. What I want to know is, can I see you at lunch?" + </p> + <p> + "Yes—why, yes, of course," said Genevieve, dazedly. Then she hung up + the receiver and stared into space. + </p> + <p> + George, beautifully dressed, tall and handsome, now emerged from his room. + For once his adoring wife failed to notice that in appearance he rivaled + the sun god. She had one thing she wanted to know, and she wanted to know + it badly. It was, + </p> + <p> + "Why did you fire Betty Sheridan?" + </p> + <p> + She asked this in the insulting "point of the bayonet" tone which angry + equals use to one another the world over. + </p> + <p> + Either question or tone would have been enough to have put George's + already sensitive nerves on edge. Both together were unbearable. It was, + when you came down to it, the most awkward question in the world. + </p> + <p> + Why, indeed, had he fired Betty Sheridan? He hadn't really given himself + an account of the inward reasons yet. The episode had been too disturbing; + and it was George's characteristic to put off looking on unpleasant facts + as long as possible. Had he been really hard up, which he never had been, + he would undoubtedly have put away, unopened, the bills he couldn't pay. + Life was already presenting him with the bill of yesterday's ill humor, + and he was not yet ready to add up the amount. He hid himself now behind + the austerity of the offended husband. + </p> + <p> + "My dear," he inquired in his turn, "don't you think that you had best + leave the details of my office to me?" + </p> + <p> + He knew how lame this was, and how inadequate, before Genevieve replied. + </p> + <p> + "Betty Sheridan is not a detail of your office. She's one of my best + friends, and I want to know why you fired her. I dare say she was + exasperating; but I can't see any reason why you should have done it. You + should have let her leave." + </p> + <p> + It was Betty, with that lamentable lack of delicacy which George had + pointed out to her, who had not been ready to leave. + </p> + <p> + "You will have to let me be the judge of what I should or should not have + done," said George. This piece of advice Genevieve ignored. + </p> + <p> + "Why did you send her away?" she demanded. + </p> + <p> + "I sent her away, if you want to know, for her insolence and her damned + bad taste. If you think—working in my office as she was—it's + decent or proper on her part to be active in a campaign that is against me——" + </p> + <p> + "You mean because she's a suffragist? You sent her away for <i>that</i>! + Why, really, that's <i>tyranny</i>! It's like my sending away some one + working for me for her beliefs——" + </p> + <p> + They stood staring at each other, not questioningly as they had yesterday, + but as enemies,—the greater enemies that they so loved each other. + </p> + <p> + Because of that each word of unkindness was a doubled-edged sword. They + quarreled. It was the first time that they had seen each other without + illusion. They had been to each other the ideal, the lover, husband, wife. + </p> + <p> + Now, in the dismay of his amazement in finding himself quarreling with the + perfect wife, a vagrant memory came to George that he had heard that + Genevieve had a hot temper. She certainly had. He didn't notice how + handsome she looked kindled with anger. He only knew that the rose garden + in which they lived was being destroyed by their angry hands; that the + very foundation of the life they had been leading was being undermined. + </p> + <p> + The time of mirage and glamour was over. He had ceased being a hero and an + ideal, and why? Because, forgetting his past life, his record, his + achievement, Genevieve obstinately insisted on identifying him with one + single mistake. He was willing to concede it was a mistake. She had not + only identified him with it, but she had called him a number of wounding + things. + </p> + <p> + "Tyrant" was the least of them, and, worse than that, she had, in a very + fury of temper, told him that he "needn't take that pompous"—yes, + "pompous" had been her unpleasant word—"tone" with her, when he had + inquired, more in sorrow than in anger, if this were really his Genevieve + speaking. + </p> + <p> + There was a pause in their hostilities. They looked at each other aghast. + Aghast, they had perceived the same awful truth. Each saw that love + [Illustration: "You mean because she's a suffragist? You sent her away for + <i>that</i>? Why, really, that's <i>tyranny</i>!"] in the other's heart + was dead, and that things never could be the same again. So they stood + looking down this dark gulf, and the light of anger died. + </p> + <p> + In a toneless voice: "We mustn't let Cousin Emelene and Alys hear us + quarreling," said George. And Genevieve answered, "They've gone down to + breakfast." + </p> + <p> + The two ladies were seated at table. + </p> + <p> + "We heard you two love birds cooing and billing, and thought we might as + well begin," said Alys Brewster-Smith. "Regularity is of the highest + importance in bringing up a child." + </p> + <p> + Cousin Emelene was reading the <i>Sentinel.</i> George's quick eye glanced + at the headlines: + </p> + <p> + <i>Candidate Remington Heckled by Suffragists. Ask Him Leading Questions.</i> + </p> + <p> + "Why, dear me," she remarked, her kind eyes on George, "it's perfectly + awful, isn't it, that they break the laws that way just for a little more + money. But I don't see why they want to annoy dear George. They ought to + be glad they are going to get a district attorney who'll put all those + things straight. I think it's very silly of them to ask him, don't you, + Genevieve?" + </p> + <p> + "Let me see," said Genevieve, taking the paper. + </p> + <p> + "All he's got to do, anyway, is to answer," pursued Cousin Emelene. + </p> + <p> + "Yes, that's all," replied Genevieve, her melancholy gaze on George. + Yesterday she would have had Emelene's childlike faith. But this stranger, + who, for a trivial and tyrannical reason, had sent away Betty—how + would <i>he</i> act? + </p> + <p> + "They showed these right opposite your windows?" she questioned. + </p> + <p> + "Yes," he returned. "Our friend Mrs. Herrington did it herself. It was the + first course of our dinner. If you think that's good taste—" + </p> + <p> + "I would expect it of her," said Alys Brewster-Smith. + </p> + <p> + "But it makes it so easy for George," Emelene repeated. "They'll know now + what sort of a man he is. Little children at work, just to make a little + more money—it's awful!" + </p> + <p> + "Talking about money, George," said Alys, "have you seen to my houses + yet?" "Not yet," replied the harassed George. "You'll have to excuse my + going into the reasons now. I'm late as it is." + </p> + <p> + His voice had not the calm he would have wished for. As he took his + departure, he heard Alys saying, + </p> + <p> + "If you'll let me, my dear, I'd adore helping you about the housekeeping. + I don't want to stay here and be a burden. If you'll just turn it over to + me, I could cut your housekeeping expenses in half." + </p> + <p> + "Damn the women," was the unchivalrous thought that rose to George's lips. + </p> + <p> + One would have supposed that trouble had followed closely enough on George + Remington's trail, but now he found it awaiting him in his office. + </p> + <p> + Usually, Penny was the late one. It was this light-hearted young man's + custom to blow in with so engaging an expression and so cheerful a manner + that any comment on his unpunctuality was impossible. Today, instead of a + gay-hearted young man, he looked more like a sentencing judge. + </p> + <p> + What he wanted to know was, + </p> + <p> + "What have you done to Betty Sheridan? Do you mean to say that you had the + nerve to send her away, send her out of my office without consulting me—and + for a reason like that? How did you think I was going to feel about it?" + </p> + <p> + "I didn't think about you," said George. + </p> + <p> + "You bet you didn't. You thought about number one and your precious + vanity. Why, if one were to separate you from your vanity, one couldn't + see you when you were going down the street. Go on, make a frock coat + gesture! Play the brilliant but outraged young district attorney. Do you + know what it was to do a thing of that kind—to fire a girl because + she didn't agree with you?" + </p> + <p> + "It wasn't because she didn't agree with me," George interrupted, with + heat. + </p> + <p> + "It was the act of a cad," Penny finished. "Look here, young man, I'm + going to tell you a few plain truths about yourself. You're not the sort + of person that you think you are. You've deceived yourself the way other + people are deceived about you—by your exterior. But inside of that + good-looking carcass of yours there's a brain composed of cheese. You + weren't only a cad to do it—you were a fool!" "You can't use that + tone to me!" cried George. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, can't I just? By Jove, it's things like that that make one wake up. + Now I know why women have a passion for suffrage. I never knew before," + Penny went on, with more passion than logic. "You had a nerve to make that + statement of yours. You're a fine example of chivalry. You let loose a few + things when you wrote that fool statement, but you did a worse trick when + you fired Betty Sheridan. God, you're a pinhead—from the point of + view of mere tactics. Sometimes I wonder whether you've <i>any</i> brain." + </p> + <p> + George had turned white with anger. + </p> + <p> + "That'll just about do," he remarked. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, no, it won't," said Penny. "It won't do at all. I'm not going to + remain in a firm where things like this can happen. I wouldn't risk my + reputation and my future. You're going to do the decent thing. You're + going to Betty Sheridan and tell her what you think of yourself. She won't + come back, I suppose, but you might ask her to do that, too. And now I'm + going out, to give you time to think this over. And tonight you can tell + me what you've decided. And then I'll tell you whether I'm going to + dissolve our partnership. Your temper's too bad to decide now. Maybe when + you've done that she won't treat me like an unsavory stranger." + </p> + <p> + He left, and George sat down to gloomy reflection. + </p> + <p> + To do him justice, the idea of apologizing to Betty had already occurred + to him. If he put off the day of reckoning, when the time came he would + pay handsomely. He realized that there was no use in wasting energy and + being angry with Penny. He looked over the happenings of the last few + hours and the part he had played in them, and what he saw failed to please + him. He saw himself being advised by Doolittle to concentrate on the Erie + Oval. He heard him urging him not to be what Doolittle called + unneighborly. The confiding words of Cousin Emelene rang in his ears. + </p> + <p> + He saw himself, in a fit of ill-temper, discharging Betty. He saw + Genevieve, lovely and scornful, urging him to be less pompous. All this, + he had to admit, he had brought on himself. Why should he have been so + angry at these questions? Again Emelene's remark echoed in his ear. He had + only to answer them—and he was going to concentrate on the Erie + Oval! + </p> + <p> + There came a knock on the door, and a breezy young woman demanded, + </p> + <p> + "D'you want a stenographer?" + </p> + <p> + George wanted a stenographer, and wanted one badly. He put from him the + whole vexed question in the press of work, and by lunch time he made up + his mind to have it out with Betty. There was no use putting it off, and + he knew that he could have no peace with himself until he did. He felt + very tired—as though he had been doing actual physical work. He + thought of yesterday as a land of lost content. But he couldn't find + Betty. + </p> + <p> + He bent his steps toward home, and as he did so affection for Genevieve + flooded his heart. He so wanted yesterday back—things as they had + been. He so wanted her love and her admiration. He wanted to put his tired + head on her shoulder. He couldn't bear, not for another moment, to be at + odds with her. + </p> + <p> + He wondered what she had been doing, and how she had spent the morning. He + imagined her crying her heart out. He leaped up the steps and ran up to + his room. In it was Alys Brewster-Smith. She started slightly. + </p> + <p> + "I was just looking for some cold cream," she explained. + </p> + <p> + "Where's Genevieve?" George asked. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, she's out," Alys replied casually. "She left a note for you." + </p> + <p> + The note was a polite and noncommittal line informing George that + Genevieve would not be back for lunch. He felt as though a lump of ice + replaced his heart. His disappointment was the desperate disappointment of + a small boy. + </p> + <p> + He went back to the gloomy office and worked through the interminable day. + Late in the afternoon Mr. Doolittle lounged heavily in. + </p> + <p> + "Have some gum, George?" he inquired, inserting a large piece in his own + mouth. + </p> + <p> + He chewed rhythmically for a space. George waited. He knew that chewing + gum was not the ultimate object of Mr. Doolittle's visit. + </p> + <p> + "Don't women beat the Dutch?" he inquired at last. "Yes sir, mister; they + do!" + </p> + <p> + "What's up now?" George inquired. "The suffragists again?" + </p> + <p> + "Nope; not on the face of it they ain't. It's the Woman's Forum that's + doin' this. They've got a sweet little idea. 'Seein' Whitewater Sweat' + they call it. + </p> + <p> + "They're goin' around in bunches of twos, or mebbe blocks o' five, seein' + all the sights; an' you know women ain't reasonable, an' you can't reason + with them. They're goin' to find a pile o' things they won't like in this + little burg o' ours, all right, all right. An' they'll want to have things + changed right off. I want to see things changed m'self. I'd like to, but + them things take time, an' that's what women won't understand. + </p> + <p> + "Jimminee, I've heard of towns all messed up and candidates ruined just + because the women got wrought up over tenement-house an' fire laws an' + truck like that. Yes sir, they're out seein' Whitewater this minut, or + will be if you can't divert their minds. Call 'em off, George, if you can. + Get 'em fussy about sumpen else." + </p> + <p> + "Why, what have I to do with it?" George inquired. + </p> + <p> + "Well, I didn't know but what you might have sumpen," said Mr. Doolittle + mildly. "It's that young lady that works here, Miss Sheridan, an' your + wife what's organizin' it. Planning it all out to Thorne's at lunch they + was, an' Heally was sittin' at the next table and beats it to me. You can + see for yerself what a hell of a mess they'll make!" + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. BY ALICE DUER MILLER + </h2> + <p> + It was a relief to both men when at this point the door of the office + opened and Martin Jaffry entered. + </p> + <p> + Not since the unfortunate anti-suffrage statement of George's had Uncle + Martin dropped in like this. George, looking at him with that first swift + glance that often predetermines a whole interview, made up his mind that + bygones were to be bygones. He greeted his uncle with the warmest + cordiality. + </p> + <p> + "Well, George," said Uncle Martin, "how are things going?" + </p> + <p> + "I'm going to be elected, if that's what you mean," answered George. + </p> + <p> + Doolittle gave a snort. "Indeed, are ye?" said he. "As a friend and + well-wisher, I'm sure I'm delighted to hear the news." "Do I understand + that you have your doubts, Mr. Doolittle?" Jaffry inquired mildly. + </p> + <p> + "There's two things we need and need badly, Mr. Jaffry," said Doolittle. + "One's money—" + </p> + <p> + "A small campaign contribution would not be rejected?" + </p> + <p> + "But there's something we need more than money—and God knows I never + expected to say them words—and that's common sense." + </p> + <p> + "Good," said Uncle Martin, "I have plenty of that, too!" + </p> + <p> + "Then for the love of Mike pass some of it on to this precious nephew of + yours." + </p> + <p> + "What seems to be the matter?" + </p> + <p> + "It's them women," said Doolittle. + </p> + <p> + Uncle Martin turned inquiringly to George: "The tender flowers?" he + suggested. + </p> + <p> + "Look here, Uncle Martin," said George, who had had a good deal of this + sort of thing to bear, "I don't understand you. Do you believe in woman + suffrage?" + </p> + <p> + Uncle Martin contemplated a new crumpling of his long-suffering cap before + he answered. "Yes and no, George. I believe in it in the same way that I + believe in old age and death. I can't avoid them by denying their + existence." + </p> + <p> + "But you fight against them, and put them off as long as you can." + </p> + <p> + "But I yield a little to them, too, George. What is it? Has Genevieve + become a convert to suffrage?" + </p> + <p> + "Has Genevieve—has my wife——" + </p> + <p> + Then George remembered that his uncle was an older man and that chivalry + is not limited to the treatment of the weaker sex. + </p> + <p> + "No," he said with a calm hardly less magnificent than the tempest would + have been, "no, Uncle Martin, Genevieve has not become a suffragist." + </p> + <p> + "Well," said Doolittle rising, as if such things were hardly worth his + valuable time, "I fail to see the difference between a suffragette an' a + woman who goes pokin' her nose into what——" + </p> + <p> + "You're speaking of my wife, Mr. Doolittle," said George, with a + significant lighting of the eye. + </p> + <p> + "Speakin' in general," said Doolittle. + </p> + <p> + Uncle Martin was interested. "Has Genevieve been—well, we won't say + poking the nose—but taking a responsible civic interest where it + would be better if she didn't?" + </p> + <p> + "It seems," answered George, casting an angry glance at his campaign + manager, "that Mr. Doolittle has heard from a friend of his who overheard + a conversation between Betty Sheridan and my wife at luncheon. From this + he inferred that the two were planning an investigation of some of the + city's problems." + </p> + <p> + Uncle Martin looked relieved. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, your wife and your stenographer. That can be stopped, I suppose, + without undue exertion." + </p> + <p> + "Betty is no longer my stenographer." + </p> + <p> + "Left, has she?" said Jaffry. "I had an idea she would not stay with you + long." + </p> + <p> + This intimation was not agreeable to George. He would have liked to + explain that Miss Sheridan's departure had been dictated by the will of + the head of the firm; in fact he opened his mouth to do so. But the + remembrance that this would entail a long and wearisome exposition of his + reasons caused him to remain silent, and his uncle went on: "Well, anyhow, + you can get Geneviève to drop it." + </p> + <p> + If Doolittle had not been there, George would have been glad to discuss + with his uncle, who had, after all, a sort of worldly shrewdness, how far + a man is justified in controlling his wife's opinions. But before an + audience now a trifle unsympathetic, he could not resist the temptation of + making the gesture of a man magnificently master in his own house. + </p> + <p> + He smiled quite grandly. "I think I can promise that," he said. + </p> + <p> + Doolittle got up slowly, bringing his jaws together in a relentless bite + on the unresisting gum. + </p> + <p> + "Well," he said, "that's all there is to it." And he added significantly + as he reached the door, "If you kin <i>do</i> it!" + </p> + <p> + When the campaign manager had gone, Uncle Martin asked very, very gently: + "You don't feel any doubt of being able to do it, do you, George?" + </p> + <p> + "About my ability to control—I mean influence, my wife? I feel no + doubt at all." + </p> + <p> + "And Penfield, I suppose, can tackle Betty? You won't mind my saying that + of the two I think your partner has the harder job." + </p> + <p> + A slight cloud appeared upon the brow of the candidate. + </p> + <p> + "I don't feel inclined to ask any favor of Penny just at present," he said + haughtily. "Has it ever struck you, Uncle Martin, that Penny has an unduly + emotional, an almost feminine type of mind?" + </p> + <p> + "No," said the other, "it hasn't, but that is perhaps because I have never + been sure just what the feminine type of mind is." + </p> + <p> + "You know what I mean," answered George, trying to conceal his annoyance + at this sort of petty quibbling. "I mean he is too personal, + over-excitable, irrational and very hard to deal with." + </p> + <p> + "Dear me," said Jaffry. "Is Geneviève like that?" + </p> + <p> + "Geneviève," replied her husband loyally, "is much better poised than most + women, but—yes,—even she—all women are more or less like + that." + </p> + <p> + "All women and Penny. Well, George, you have my sympathy. An excitable + partner, an irrational stenographer, and a wife that's very hard to deal + with!" + </p> + <p> + "I never said Geneviève was hard to deal with," George almost shouted. + </p> + <p> + "My mistake—thought you did," answered his uncle, now moving rapidly + away. "Let me know the result of the interview, and we'll talk over ways + and means." And he shut the door briskly behind him. + </p> + <p> + George walked to the window, with his hands in his pockets. He always + liked to look out while he turned over grave questions in his mind; but + this comfort was now denied to him, for he could not help being distracted + by the voiceless speech still relentlessly turning its pages in the + opposite window. + </p> + <p> + The heading now was: + </p> + <p> + DOES THE FIFTY-FOUR-HOUR-A-WEEK LAW APPLY TO FLOWERS? + </p> + <p> + He flung himself down on his chair with an exclamation. He knew he had to + think carefully about something which he had never considered before, and + that was his wife's character. + </p> + <p> + Of course he liked to think about Geneviève—; of her beauty, her + abilities, her charms; and particularly he liked to think about her love + for him. + </p> + <p> + A week ago he would have met the present situation very simply. He would + have put his arm about her and said: "My darling, I think I'd a little + rather you dropped this sort of thing for the present." And that would + have been enough. + </p> + <p> + But he knew it would not be enough now. He would have to have a reason, a + case. + </p> + <p> + "Heavens," he thought, "imagine having to talk to one's wife as if she + were the lawyer for the other side." + </p> + <p> + He did not notice that he was reproaching Geneviève for being too + impersonal, too unemotional and not irrational enough. + </p> + <p> + When he went home at five, he had thought it out. He put his head into the + sitting-room, where Alys was ensconced behind the tea-kettle. + </p> + <p> + "Come in, George dear," she called graciously, "and let me give you a + really good cup of tea. It's some I've just ordered for you, and I think + you'll find it an improvement on what you've been accustomed to." George + shut the door again, pretending he had not heard; but he had had time + enough to note that dear little Eleanor was building houses out of his + most treasured books. + </p> + <p> + The memory of his quarrel with his wife had been partly obliterated by + memories of so many other quarrels during the day that it was only when he + was actually standing in her room that he remembered how very bitter their + parting had been. + </p> + <p> + He stood looking at her doubtfully, and it was she who came forward and + put her arms about him. They clung to each other like two children who + have been frightened by a nightmare. + </p> + <p> + "We mustn't quarrel again, George," she said. "I've had a real, true, + old-fashioned pain in my heart all day. But I think I understand better + now than I did. I lunched with Betty and she made me see." + </p> + <p> + "What did Betty make you see?" asked George nervously, for he had not + perfect confidence in Miss Sheridan's visions. + </p> + <p> + "That it was all a question of efficiency. She said that in business a + man's stenographer is just an instrument to make his work easier, and if + for any reason at all that instrument does not suit him he is justified in + getting rid of it, and in finding one that does." + </p> + <p> + "Betty is very generous," he said coldly. He wanted to hear his wife say + that she had not thought him pompous; it was very hard to be thankful for + a mere ethical rehabilitation. + </p> + <p> + Part of his thought-out plan was that Geneviève must herself tell him of + the Woman's Forum's investigation; it would not do for him to let her know + he had heard of it through a political eavesdropper. So after a moment he + added casually: + </p> + <p> + "And what else did Betty have to say?" + </p> + <p> + "Nothing much." + </p> + <p> + His heart sank. Was Geneviève becoming uncandid? + </p> + <p> + "Nothing else," he said. "Just to justify me in your eyes?" + </p> + <p> + She hesitated, "No, that was not quite all, but it is too early to talk + about it yet." + </p> + <p> + "Anything that interests you, my dear, I should like to hear about from + the beginning." Perhaps Geneviève was not so unemotional after all, for at + this expression of his affection, her eyes filled with tears. + </p> + <p> + "I long to tell you," she said. "I only hesitated on your account, but of + course I want all your help and advice. It's this: There seems to be no + doubt that the conditions under which women are working in our factories + are hideous—dangerous—the law is broken with perfect impunity. + I know you can't act on rumors and hearsay. Even the inspectors don't give + out the truth. And so we are going to persuade the Woman's Forum to + abandon its old policy of mere discussion. + </p> + <p> + "We—Betty and I—are going to get the members for once to act—to + make an investigation; so that the instant you come into the office you + will have complete information at your disposal—facts, and facts and + facts on which you can act." + </p> + <p> + She paused and looked eagerly at her husband, who remained silent. Seeing + this she went on: + </p> + <p> + "I know what you're thinking. I thought of it myself. Am I justified in + using my position in the Woman's Forum to further your political career? + Well, my answer is, it isn't your political career, only; it's truth and + justice that will be furthered." + </p> + <p> + Here in the home there was no voiceless speech to make the view + intolerable, and George moved away from his wife and walked to the window. + He looked out on his own peaceful trees and lawn, and on Hanna, like a + tiger in the jungle, stalking a competent little sparrow. + </p> + <p> + A temptation was assailing George. Suppose he did put his opposition to + this investigation on a high and mighty ground? Suppose he announced a + moral scruple? But no, he cast Satan behind him. + </p> + <p> + "Geneviève," he said, turning sharply toward her, "this question puts our + whole attitude to a test. If you and I are two separate individuals, with + different responsibilities, different interests, different opinions, then + we ought to be consistent; that ought to mean economic independence of + each other, and equal suffrage; it means that husband and wife may become + business competitors and political opponents. + </p> + <p> + "But if, as you know I believe, a man and woman who love each other are + one, are a unit as far as society is concerned, why then our interests are + identical, and it is simply a question of which of us two is better able + to deal with any particular situation." + </p> + <p> + "But that is what I believe, too, George." + </p> + <p> + "I hoped it was, dear; I know it used to be. Then you must let me act for + you in this matter." + </p> + <p> + "Yes, in the end; but an investigation—" + </p> + <p> + "My darling, politics is not an ideal; it is a practical human + institution. Just at present, from the political point of view, such an + investigation would do me incalculable harm." + </p> + <p> + "George!" + </p> + <p> + He nodded. "It would probably lose me the election." + </p> + <p> + "But why?" + </p> + <p> + "Geneviève, am I your political representative or not?" + </p> + <p> + "You are," she smiled at him, "and my dear love as well; but may I not + even know why?" + </p> + <p> + "If you dismissed the cook, and I summoned you before me and bade you give + me your reasons for such an action, would you not feel in your heart that + I was disputing your judgment?" + </p> + <p> + She looked at him honestly. "Yes, I should." + </p> + <p> + "And I would not do such a discourteous thing to you. In the home you are + absolute. Whatever you do, whatever you decide, is right. I would not + dream of questioning. Will you not give me the same confidence in my + special department?" + </p> + <p> + There was a short pause; then Geneviève held out her hand. + </p> + <p> + "Yes, George," she said, "I will, but on one condition——" + </p> + <p> + "<i>I</i> did not make conditions, Geneviève." + </p> + <p> + "You do not have to, my dear. You know that I am really your + representative in the house; that I am really always thinking of your + wishes. You must do the same as my political representative. I mean, if I + am not to do this work myself, you must do it for me." + </p> + <p> + "Even if I consider it unwise?" + </p> + <p> + "Unwise to protect women and children?" + </p> + <p> + "Geneviève," he said seriously, as one who confides something not always + confided to women, "enforcing law sometimes does harm." + </p> + <p> + "But an investigation——" + </p> + <p> + "That's where you are ignorant, my dear. If an investigation is made, + especially if the women mix themselves up in it, then we shall have no + choice but enforcement." + </p> + <p> + She had sunk down on her sofa, but now she sprang up. "And you don't mean + to enforce the law in respect of women? Is that why you don't want the + investigation?" + </p> + <p> + "Not at all. You are most unjust. You are most illogical, Geneviève. All I + am asking is that the whole question should not be taken up at this moment—just + before election." + </p> + <p> + "But this is the only moment when we can find out whether or not you are a + candidate who will do what we want." + </p> + <p> + "<i>We</i>, Geneviève! Who do you mean by 'we'?" + </p> + <p> + She stared for a second at him, her eyes growing large and dark with + astonishment. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, George," she gasped finally, "I think I meant women when I said 'we.' + George, I'm afraid I'm a <i>suffragist</i>. And oh," she added, with a + sort of wail, "I don't want to be, I don't want to be!" + </p> + <p> + "Damn Betty Sheridan," exclaimed George. "This is all her doing." + </p> + <p> + His wife shook her head. "No," she said, "it wasn't Betty who made me + see." + </p> + <p> + "Who was it?" + </p> + <p> + "It was you, George." + </p> + <p> + "I don't understand you." + </p> + <p> + "You made me see why women want to vote for themselves. How can you + represent me, when we disagree fundamentally?" + </p> + <p> + "How can we disagree fundamentally when we love each other?" + </p> + <p> + "You mean that because we love each other, I must think as you do?" + </p> + <p> + "What else could I mean, darling?" + </p> + <p> + "You might have meant that you would think as I do." + </p> + <p> + George glanced at her in deep offense. + </p> + <p> + "We have indeed drifted far apart," he said. + </p> + <p> + At this moment there was a knock at the door, and the news was conveyed to + George that Mr. Evans was downstairs asking to see him. + </p> + <p> + "Oh dear," said Geneviève, "it seems as if we never could get a moment by + ourselves nowadays. What does Penny want?" + </p> + <p> + "He wants to tell me whether he intends to dissolve partnership or not." + </p> + <p> + Any fear that his wife had disassociated herself from his interests should + have been dispelled by the tone in which she exclaimed: "Dissolve + partnership! Penny? Well, I never in my life! Where would Penny be without + you, I should like to know! He must be crazy." + </p> + <p> + These words made George feel happier than anything that had happened to + him throughout this day. His self-esteem began to revive. + </p> + <p> + "I think Penny has been a little hasty," he said, judicially but not + unkindly. "He lost all self-control when he heard I had let Betty go." + </p> + <p> + "Isn't that like a man," said Geneviève, "to throw away his whole future + just because he loses his temper?" + </p> + <p> + George did not directly answer this question, and his wife went on. + "However, it will be all right. He has seen Betty this afternoon, and she + won't let him do anything foolish." + </p> + <p> + George glanced at her. "You mean that Betty will prevent his leaving the + firm?" + </p> + <p> + "Of course she will." + </p> + <p> + George walked to the door. + </p> + <p> + "I seem to owe a good deal to my former stenographer," he said, "my wife, + my partner; next, perhaps it will be my election." + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. BY ETHEL WATTS MUMFORD + </h2> + <p> + Penny, pacing the drawing-room with pantheresque strides, came to a tense + halt as Remington entered. + </p> + <p> + "Well?" he said, his eyes hard, his unwelcoming hands thrust deep into his + pockets. + </p> + <p> + That identical "well" with its uptilt of question had been on George's + tongue. It was a monosyllable that demanded an answer. Penny had got ahead + of him, forced him, as it were, into the witness chair, and he resented + it. + </p> + <p> + "Seems to me," he began hotly, "that you were the one who was going to + make the statements—' whether or no,' I believe, we were to continue + in partnership." + </p> + <p> + "Perhaps," retorted Penny, with the air of allowing no great importance to + that angle of the argument, "but what I want to know is, <i>are</i> you + going to be a square man, and own up you were peeved into being a tyrant? + And when you've done that, are you going to tell Betty, and apologize?" + </p> + <p> + George hesitated, trapped between his irritation and the still small + voice. + </p> + <p> + "Look here," he said, with that amiable suavity that had won him many a + concession, "you know well enough I don't want to hurt Betty's feelings. + If she feels that way about it, of course I'll apologize." + </p> + <p> + His partner looked at him in blank amazement. + </p> + <p> + "Gad!" he exclaimed as if examining a particularly fine specimen of some + rare beetle, "what a bounder." + </p> + <p> + "Meaning me?" snapped George. + </p> + <p> + "Don't dare to quibble. Look me in the eye." + </p> + <p> + There was a third degree fatality about the usually debonair Penny that + exacted obedience. George unwillingly looked him in the eye, and had a + ghastly feeling of having his suddenly realized smallness X-rayed. + </p> + <p> + "You know damned well you acted like a cad," Penny continued, "and I want + to know, for all our sakes, if you're man enough to own it?" + </p> + <p> + George's fundamental honesty mastered him. Anger died from his eyes. His + clenched hands relaxed and began an unconscious and nervous exploration + for a cigarette. + </p> + <p> + "Since you put it that way," he said, "and it happens that my conscience + agrees with you—I'll go you. I <i>was</i> a cad, and I'll tell Betty + so. Confound it!" he growled, "I don't know <i>what's</i> come over me + these days. I've got to get a grip on myself." + </p> + <p> + "You <i>bet</i> you have," said Penny, hauling his fists from his trousers + as if with an effort. Then he grinned. "Betty said you would." + </p> + <p> + George's eyes darkened. + </p> + <p> + "And I'll tell you now," Penny went on, "since you've turned out at least + half-decent, Betty'll let you off that apology thing. <i>She</i> wasn't + the one who was exacting it—not she. <i>I</i> couldn't stand for + your highfalutin excuses for being—well, never mind—we all get + our off days. But don't you get off again like that if——" + Penny hesitated. "If you want me for a partner," which seemed the obvious + conclusion, was tame. "If you want to hang on to any one's respect," he + finished. + </p> + <p> + "Say, though," he murmured, "Betty'll give me 'what for' for drubbing you. + She actually took your side—said—oh, never mind—tried to + make me think of her just as if she was any old Mamie—the stenog—tried + to prune out personal feeling." + </p> + <p> + "By Jove," he ruminated, "that girl's a corker!" + </p> + <p> + He raised forgiving eyes from his contemplation of the rug. + </p> + <p> + "Well, old man, blow me to a Scotch and soda, and I'll be going. Dinged if + it wouldn't have broken me all up to have busted with you, even if you are + a box of prunes. Shake." + </p> + <p> + George shook, but he was far from happy. What he had gained in peace of + mind he had lost in self-conceit. His resentment against the pinch of + circumstance was deepening to cancerous vindictiveness. + </p> + <p> + As Pennington left with a cheery good-by and a final half-cynical word of + advice "to get onto himself" George mounted the stairs slowly and came + face to face with Geneviève, obviously in wait for him. + </p> + <p> + "What happened?" she inquired, with an anxious glance at his corrugated + brow. + </p> + <p> + George did not feel in a mood to describe his retreat, if not defeat. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, nothing. We had a highball. I think I made him—well—it's + all right." + </p> + <p> + "There, I knew Betty'd make him see reason," she smiled. "I'm awfully + glad. I've a real respect for Penny's judgment after all, you know." + </p> + <p> + "Meaning, you have your doubts about mine." + </p> + <p> + "No, meaning only just what I said—<i>just</i> that. By the way, + George, I wish you'd take time to look into Alys' real estate. Somebody + ought to, and if you're really representing her——" + </p> + <p> + "Oh, good heavens!" he exclaimed impatiently, angered by her swift + transition from his own to another's affairs. "I can't! I simply can't! + Haven't you any conception of how busy I am?" + </p> + <p> + "I know, dear; I <i>do</i> know. But something must be done. The Health + Department," she explained, "has sent in complaint after complaint, and + Miss Eliot simply won't handle the property unless she's allowed to spend + a lot setting things to rights. Alys says it's absurd; none of the other + property owners out there are doing anything, and <i>she</i> won't. So, + nobody's looking after it, and somebody should." + </p> + <p> + "Who told you all this?" he demanded. "Miss E. Eliot, I suppose." + </p> + <p> + His wife nodded. "And she's right," she added. + </p> + <p> + "Well, perhaps she is," he allowed. "I'll get Alien to act as her agent + again. He's in with all the politicians; he ought to be able to stall off + the department." + </p> + <p> + The words slipped out before he realized their import, but at Genevieve's + wide stare of amazement he flushed crimson. "I mean—lots of these + complaints are really mere red tape; some self-important employee is + trying to look busy. A little investigation usually puts that straight." + </p> + <p> + "Of course," she acquiesced, and he breathed a sigh of relief. "That + happens, too, but Miss Eliot says that the conditions out there are really + dreadful." + </p> + <p> + "I'll talk to Allen," said George with an affectation of easy dismissal of + the subject. + </p> + <p> + But Genevieve's mind appeared to have grown suddenly persistent. At dinner + she again brought up the subject, this time directing her troubled gaze + and troubling words at her guest. + </p> + <p> + "Alys," she said abruptly, "I really think you ought to go out to Kentwood—to + see about your property out there, I mean." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Brewster-Smith looked up, rolling her large eyes in frank amazement. + </p> + <p> + "Go out there? What for? It isn't the sort of a district a lady cares to + be seen in, I'm told; and, besides, George is looking after that for me. + <i>He</i> understands such matters, and I frankly own <i>I</i> don't. + Business makes me quite dizzy," she added with a flash of very white + teeth. + </p> + <p> + Geneviève hesitated, then went to the point. + </p> + <p> + "But you must advise with your agent, Alys. The property is <i>yours</i>." + </p> + <p> + Alys raised sharply penciled brows. "I have utter confidence in George," + she answered in a tone of finality that brought an adoring look from + Emelene, and her usual Boswellian echo: "Of <i>course</i>." + </p> + <p> + George squirmed uneasily. Such a vote of confidence implied accepted + responsibility, and he acknowledged to himself that he wanted to and would + dodge the unwelcome burden. He turned a benign Jovian expression on Mrs. + Brewster-Smith and condescended to explain. + </p> + <p> + "I have considered what is best for you, and I will myself see Allen and + request him to take your real-estate affairs in charge again. Neither + Sampson nor—er—Eliot is, I think, advisable for your best + interests." + </p> + <p> + At the mention of the last name Genevieve's expressive face stretched to + speak; then she closed her lips with self-controlled determination. Mrs. + Brewster-Smith looked at her host in scandalized amazement. + </p> + <p> + "But I <i>told</i> you," she almost whimpered, "that his wife is simply + impossible." + </p> + <p> + George smiled tolerantly. "But his wife isn't doing the business. It's the + business, not the social interests, we have to consider. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, but she is in the business," Alys explained. "I think it's because + she's jealous of him; she wants to be around the office and watch him." + </p> + <p> + Geneviève interposed. "Mrs. Allen owns a lot of land herself, and she + looks after it. It seems quite natural to me." + </p> + <p> + "But she <i>has</i> a husband," Alys rebuked. + </p> + <p> + "Yes," agreed Geneviève, "but she probably married him for a husband, not + a business agent." + </p> + <p> + George felt the reins of the situation slipping from him, so he jerked the + curb of conversation. + </p> + <p> + "We are beside the issue," he said in his most legal manner. "The fact is + that Allen knows more about the Kentwood district and the factory values + than any one else, and I feel it my duty to advise Alys to leave her + affairs in his hands. I'll see him for you in the morning." + </p> + <p> + He turned to Alys with a return of tolerantly protective inflection in his + voice. + </p> + <p> + Geneviève shrugged, a faint ghost of a shrug. Had George been less + absorbed in his own mental discomforts, he would have discovered there and + then that the matter of his speech, not the manner of his delivery, was + what held his wife's attention. No longer could rounded periods and + eloquent sophistry hide from her his thoughts and intentions. + </p> + <p> + A telephone call interrupted the meal. He answered it with relief, bowing + a hurried, self-important excuse to the ladies. But the voice that came + over the wire was not modulated in tones of flattery. + </p> + <p> + "Say," drawled the campaign manager, "you'd better get a hump on, and come + over here to headquarters. There's a couple of gents here who want a word + with you." + </p> + <p> + The tone was ominous, and George stiffened. "Very well, I'll be right + over. But you can pretty well tell them where I stand on the main issues. + Who's at headquarters?" + </p> + <p> + A snort of disgust greeted the inquiry. The snort told George that + seasoned campaigners did not use the telephone with such casual lack of + circumspection. The words were in like manner enlightening. "Well, there + might be Mr. Julius Caesar, and then again Mr. George Washington might + drop in. What I'm putting you wise to," he added sharply, "is that you'd + better get on to your job." + </p> + <p> + There was a click as of a receiver hung up with a jerk, and a subdued + giggle that testified to the innocent attention of the telephone operator. + </p> + <p> + With but a pale reflection of his usual courtesy the harassed candidate + left the bosom of his family. No sooner had he taken his departure than + the bosom heaved. + </p> + <p> + "My dear girl," said Alys, "if you take that tone with your husband you'll + never hold him—never. Men won't stand for it. You're only hurting + yourself." + </p> + <p> + "What tone?" Genevieve inquired as she rose calmly and led the way to the + drawing-room. + </p> + <p> + "I mean"—Mrs. Brewster-Smith slipped a firm, white hand across + Genevieve's shoulders—"you shouldn't try to force issues. It looks + as if you didn't have confidence in your husband, and men, to <i>do</i> + and <i>be</i> their best, must feel perfect trust from the woman they + love. You don't mind my being so frank, dear, but we women must help one + another—by our experience and our intuitions." + </p> + <p> + Geneviève looked at her. Oblique angles had become irritatingly + fascinating. "I'm beginning to think so more and more," she replied. + </p> + <p> + "It's for your own good, dear," Alys smiled. + </p> + <p> + "Yes," Geneviève agreed. "I understand. Things that hurt are often for our + good, aren't they? We have to be <i>made</i> to realize facts really to + know them." + </p> + <p> + "Coffee, dear?" inquired Alys, assuming the duties of hostess. + </p> + <p> + Geneviève shook her head. "No. I find I've been rather wakeful of late: + perhaps it's coffee. Excuse me. I must telephone." + </p> + <p> + A moment later she returned beaming. + </p> + <p> + "I have borrowed a car for tomorrow, and I want you and Emelene to come + with me for a little spin. We ought to have a bright day; the night is + wonderful. Poor George," she sighed, "I wish he didn't have to be away so + much." + </p> + <p> + "His career is yours, you know," kittenishly bromidic, Emelene comforted + her. The following day fulfilled the promise of its predecessor. Clear and + balmy, it invited to the outer, world, and it was with pleased + anticipation that Genevieve's guests prepared for the promised outing. + Geneviève glanced anxiously into her gold mesh bag. The motor was hired, + not borrowed. + </p> + <p> + She had permitted herself this one white lie. + </p> + <p> + She ushered her guests into the tonneau and took her place beside the + chauffeur. Their first few stops were for such prosaic purchases as the + household made necessary; there was a pause at the post office, another at + the Forum, where Geneviève left two highly disgruntled women waiting for + her while with a guilty sense of teasing her prey she prolonged her + business. The sight of their stiffened figures and averted faces when she + returned to them kindled a new amusement. + </p> + <p> + At last they were settled comfortably, and the car turned toward the + suburbs. + </p> + <p> + The town streets were passed and lines of villa homes thinned. The ornate + colonial gates of the Country Club flashed by. Now the sky to the right + was dark with the smoke of the belching chimneys of many factories. For a + block or two cottages of the better sort flanked the road; then, grim, + ugly and dilapidated, stretched the twin "improved" sections of Kentwood + and Powderville. In the air was an acrid odor. Soot begrimed everything. + The sodden ground was littered with refuse between the shacks, which were + dignified by the title of "Workmen's Cottages." + </p> + <p> + Amid the confusion, irregular trodden paths led, short-cutting, toward the + clattering, grinding munition plants. For a space of at least half an acre + around the huge iron buildings the ground, with sinister import, was kept + clear of dwellings, but in all directions outside of the inclosure + thousands of new yellow-pine shacks testified to the sudden demand for + labor. A large weather-beaten signboard at a wired cross-road bore the + name of "Kentwood," plus the advice that the office was adjacent for the + purchase or lease of the highly desirable villa sites. + </p> + <p> + The motor drew up and Genevieve alighted. For the first time since their + course had been turned toward the unlovely but productive outskirts, + Geneviève faced her passengers. Alys' face was pale. Emelene's expression + was puzzled and worried, as a child's is worried when the child is + suddenly confronted by strange and gloomy surroundings. + </p> + <p> + "There is some one in the renting office," said Geneviève with quiet + determination. "I'll find out. We shall need a guide to go around with us. + Emelene, you needn't get out unless you wish to." + </p> + <p> + Emelene shuffled uneasily, half rose, and collapsed helplessly back on the + cushions, like a baby who has encountered the resistance of his buggy + strap. + </p> + <p> + "I—if you'll excuse me, Geneviève, dear, I won't get out. I've only + got on my thin kid slippers. I didn't expect to put foot on the pavement + this morning, you know." + </p> + <p> + "Very well, then, Alys!" Genevieve's voice assumed a note of command her + mild accents had never before known. + </p> + <p> + Alys' brilliant eyes snapped. "I have no desire," she said firmly, with + all the dignity of an affronted lady, "to go into this matter." "I know + you haven't. But I'm going to walk through. <i>I</i> am making a report + for the Woman's Forum." + </p> + <p> + Alys' face crimsoned with anger. + </p> + <p> + "You have no right to do such a thing," she exclaimed. "I shall refuse you + permission. You will have to obtain a permit." + </p> + <p> + "I have one," Geneviève retorted, "from the Health Department. And—I + am to meet one of the officers here." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Brewster-Smith's descent from the tonneau was more rapid than + graceful. + </p> + <p> + "What are you trying to do?" she demanded. "Geneviève, I don't understand + you." + </p> + <p> + "Don't you?" + </p> + <p> + The diffident girl had suddenly assumed the incisive strength of observant + womanhood. + </p> + <p> + "I think you <i>do</i>. I am going to show you your own responsibilities, + if that's a possible thing. I'm not going to let you throw them on George + because he's a man and your kin; and I shan't let him throw them on an + irresponsible agent because he has neither the time nor the inclination to + do justice to himself, to you, nor to these people to whom he is + responsible." + </p> + <p> + She waved a hand down the muddy, jumbled street. + </p> + <p> + The advent of an automobile had had its effect. Eager faces appeared at + windows and doors. Children frankly curious and as frankly neglected + climbed over each other, hanging on the ragged fences. Two mongrel dogs + strained at their chains, yelping furiously. Geneviève crossed to the + little square building bearing a gilt "office" sign. There was no response + to her imperative knock, but a middle-aged man appeared on the porch of + the adjoining shack and observed her curiously. + </p> + <p> + "Wanta rent?" he called jëeringly. + </p> + <p> + "Are you in charge here?" Geneviève inquired. + </p> + <p> + "Sorter," he temporized. "Watcha want?" + </p> + <p> + "I want some one who knows something about it to go around Kentwood with + us." + </p> + <p> + "What for?" he snarled. "I got my orders." + </p> + <p> + "From whom?" countered Geneviève. + </p> + <p> + "None of your business, as I can see." He eyed her narrowly. "But my + orders is to keep every one nosin' around here without no good raison <i>out</i> + of the place—and I don't think <i>you're</i> here to rent, nor your + friend, neither. Besides, there ain't nothin' to rent." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Brewster-Smith colored. The insult to her ownership of the premises + stung her to resentment. + </p> + <p> + "My good man," she said sharply. "I happen to be the proprietor of North + Kent wood." + </p> + <p> + "Then you'd better beat it." The guardian grinned. "There's a dame been + here with one of them fellers from the town office." + </p> + <p> + "Where are they now?" questioned Genevieve sharply. + </p> + <p> + "Went up factory way. But if you <i>ain't</i> one of them lady nosies, + you'd better beat it, I tell you." + </p> + <p> + Genevieve looked up the street. "Very well, we'll walk on up. This is + North Kentwood, isn't it?" + </p> + <p> + "Ain't much choice," he shrugged, "but it is. You can smell it a mile. + Say, you lady owner there"—he laughed at his own astuteness in not + being taken in—"you know the monikers, don't you? South Kentwood, + 'Stinktown'; North Kentwood, 'Swilltown'?" He grinned, pulled at his hip + pocket and, extracting a flat glass flask, took a prolonged swig and + replaced the bottle with a leer. + </p> + <p> + The two incongruous visitors were already negotiating the muddy + thoroughfare between the dilapidated dwellings. Presently these gave place + to roughly knocked together structures for two and three families. + </p> + <p> + The number of children was surprising. Now and again a shrill-voiced + woman, who seemed the prototype of her who lived in the shoe, came to + admonish her young and stare with hostile eyes at the invaders. Refuse, + barrels, cans, pigs, dogs, chickens, were on all sides, with here and + there a street watering trough, fed, apparently, by an occasional tap at + the wide-apart hydrants, installed by the factories for protection in case + of fire, as evidenced by the signs staked by the apparatus. + </p> + <p> + "What do they pay you for these cottages?" Geneviève inquired suddenly. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Brewster-Smith, whose curiosity concerning her possessions had been + aroused by the physical evidence of the same, balanced on a rut and + surveyed her tormentor angrily. + </p> + <p> + "I'm sure I don't know. I've told you before I don't understand such + matters, and I see nothing to be gained by coming here." + </p> + <p> + Geneviève pushed open a battered gate, walked up to the door and knocked. + </p> + <p> + "What are you doing?" her companion called, querulously. + </p> + <p> + A noise of many pattering feet on bare floors, a strident order for + silence, and the door swung open. A young girl stood in the doorway. + Behind her were a dozen or more children, varying from toddlers to gawky + girls and boys of school age. + </p> + <p> + Genevieve's eyes widened. "Dear me," she exclaimed, "they aren't all <i>yours</i>!" + </p> + <p> + The young woman grinned mirthlessly. "I should say not!" she snapped. + "They pays me to look out for 'em—their fathers and mothers in the + factory. Watcha want?" + </p> + <p> + "What do you pay for a house like this?" + </p> + <p> + The hired mother's brow wrinkled, and her lips drew back in an ugly snarl. + "They robs us, these landlords does. We gotter be 'longside the works, so + they robs us. What do I pay for this? Thirty a month, and at that 'tain't + fit for no dawg to live in. I could knock up a shack like this with tar + paper, I could. + </p> + <p> + "And what do we get? I gotter haul the water in a bucket, and cook on an + oil stove, and they hists the price of the ile, 'cause he comes by in a + wagon with it. The landlords is squeezing the life out of us, I tell ye." + </p> + <p> + She paused in her tirade to yell at her charges. Then she turned again to + the story of her wrongs. + </p> + <p> + "And of all the pest holes I ever seen, this is the plum worst. There's + chills an' fever an' typhoid till you can't rest, an' them kids is + abustin' with measles an' mumps an' scarlet fever. That I ain't got 'em + all myself's a miracle." + </p> + <p> + "You ought to have a district nurse and inspector/' said Geneviève, + amused, in spite of her indignation, at the dark picture presented. + </p> + <p> + "Distric' nothin'," the other sneered. "There ain't nothin' here but rent + an' taxes—doggone if I don't quit. There's plenty to do this here + mindin' work, an' I bet I could make more at the factory. They're payin' + grand for overtime." + </p> + <p> + Geneviève looked at the thin shoulders and narrow chest of the girl, noted + her growing pallor and wondered how long such a physique could withstand + the strain of hard work and overtime. She sighed. Something of her + thoughts must have shown in her face, for the girl reddened and her lips + tightened. Without another word she slammed the door in her visitor's + face. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Brewster-Smith cackled thin laughter. + </p> + <p> + "That's what you get for interfering," she jeered, so angry with her + hostess for this forced inspection of her source of income that she was + ready to sacrifice the comforts of her extended visit to have the + satisfaction of airing her resentment. + </p> + <p> + "Poor soul!" said Geneviève. "Thirty a month!" Her eyes ran over the rows + of crowded shacks. "The owners must get together and do something here," + she said. "These conditions are simply vile." + </p> + <p> + "It's probably all these people are used to," Alys snapped, "And, besides, + if they went further into town it'd cost them the trolley both ways, and + all the time lost. It's the location they pay for. Mr. Alien told me not + two months ago he thought rents could be raised." + </p> + <p> + "If you all co-operate," Genevieve continued her own line of thought, "you + could at least clean the place and make it <i>safe</i> to live in, even if + they haven't any comforts." + </p> + <p> + Her face brightened. Around the corner came the strong, solid figure of + Miss Eliot; behind her trotted a bespectacled young man who carried a + pigskin envelope under his arm and whose expression was far from happy. + </p> + <p> + "Hello!" called Miss Eliot. "So you did come. I'm glad of it. Let me + present Mr. Glass to you. The department lent him to me for the day. And + what do you think of it, now that you can see it?" + </p> + <p> + "Glad to meet you," said Genevieve, nodding to the health officer. "What + do I think of it? What does Mr. Glass think? That's more important. Oh, + let me present you—this is Mrs. Brewster-Smith." + </p> + <p> + Miss Eliot's face showed no surprise, though her eyes twinkled, but Mr. + Glass was frankly taken aback. + </p> + <p> + "Mrs. Brewster—Smith——Brewster—Smith," he + stammered. "Oh—er—" he gripped his pigskin folio as if about + to search its contents to verify the name. "The—er—the owner?" + he inquired. + </p> + <p> + Alys stiffened. "My dear husband left me this property. I have never + before seen it." + </p> + <p> + "I'm very glad," beamed Mr. Glass, "to see that we shall have your + co-operation in our efforts to do something definite for this section—and + measures must be taken quickly. As you see, there is no sanitation, no + trenching, no mosquito-extermination plant. Malaria and typhoid are + prevalent; it's all very bad, very bad, indeed. And you'd hardly believe, + Mrs. Brewster-Smith, what difficulties we are having with the owners as a + class. The five biggest have formed an association. I suppose you've heard + about it. They must have made an effort to interest you "—he stopped + short, remembering that her name appeared on the lists of the "Protective + League." + </p> + <p> + "Really"—Alys had recovered her hauteur and the aloofness becoming + the situation—"I know nothing whatever about what measures my agents + have thought it advisable to take." + </p> + <p> + Mr. Glass choked and glanced uneasily at Miss Eliot. + </p> + <p> + That lady grinned, almost the grin of a gamin. "You needn't look at <i>me</i>, + Mr. Glass. I don't represent Mrs. Brewster-Smith." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, I know, I know," Mr. Glass hastened to exonerate his companion. + </p> + <p> + "I believe Miss Eliot declined the honor," Genevieve's voice was heard. + </p> + <p> + "I did," the agent affirmed. She laughed shortly. "Otherwise you would + hardly find me here in my present capacity. One does not 'run with the + hare and hunt with the hounds,' you know." + </p> + <p> + Alys lost her temper. It seemed to her she was ruthlessly being forced to + shoulder responsibilities she had been taught to shirk as a sacred + feminine right. Therefore, feeling injured, she voiced her innocence. + </p> + <p> + "Your husband, my dear Geneviève, has been good enough to administer my + little estate. Whatever he has done, or now plans to do, meets with <i>my</i> + entire approval." + </p> + <p> + The thrust went home in more directions than one. Miss Eliot turned her + frank gaze upon the speaker, while she slowly nodded her head as if + studying a perfect specimen of a noxious species. Mr. Glass gasped. There + was political material in the statement. He looked anxiously at the wife + of the gentleman implicated, but in her was no fear and no manner of + trembling. Instead, the light of battle shone in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + "My dear Alys," she said, "my husband has told you that he is too busy a + man to give your affairs his personal attention. He can only advise you + and turn the executive side over to another. His experience does not + extend to the stock market or to real estate. It is an imposition to throw + your burdens upon him. If you derive benefits from ownership, you must + educate yourself to accept your duty to society." + </p> + <p> + "Indeed!" flared Alys, furious at this public arraignment. "May I ask if + you intend to continue this insulting attitude?" "If you mean, do I expect + hereafter to be a live woman and not a parasite—I do." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Brewster-Smith turned on her heel and walked away, teetering over the + ruts and holes of the path. + </p> + <p> + Genevieve looked distressed. "I'm sorry," she breathed, "I'm ashamed, but + it <i>had</i> to come out. I—I couldn't stand it any longer. I—beg + everybody's pardon. I'm sure, it was awfully bad manners of me. Oh, dear—" + she faltered, half turned, and, with a gesture of appeal toward Mrs. + Brewster-Smith's slowly retreating back, moved as if to follow. + </p> + <p> + "I wouldn't go after her," said E. Eliot. "Of course, you haven't had + experience. You don't know how much self-restraint you've got to build up, + but you're here now, and I'm sure Mr. Glass understands. <i>He's</i> got + to come up against all sorts of exasperations on <i>his</i> job, too. He + won't take any stock in Mrs. Brewster-Smith's trying to tie your husband + up to these wretched conditions. + </p> + <p> + "He's looking forward to seeing an honest, public-spirited district + attorney get into office—even if your husband doesn't yet see that + women have anything to say about it. They may heckle him in order to force + him to come out on his intentions about the graft, and the eight-hour day, + and the enforcement of the law, but they don't doubt his honesty. When he + know's what's what, I guess the public can trust him to do the right + thing. Only he's got to be shown." + </p> + <p> + As she talked, giving Geneviève time to recover from her upheaval, the + three investigators were plowing their way up and down byways equally + depressing and insanitary. Silence ensued. Occasionally an expression of + commiseration or condemnation escaped one or another of the party. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly a raucous whistle tore the air, followed by another and another, + declaring the armistice of the noon hour. Iron gates in the surrounding + wall were opened, a stream of men and women poured out, grimed, + sweat-streaked and voluble. The two women and their escort paused and + watched the oncoming swarm of humanity. + </p> + <p> + Around the corner, just ahead, strode a giant of a man, followed by a + red-faced, unkempt, familiar figure—the man in charge of the renting + office. The giant came forward threateningly. + </p> + <p> + "What youse doing?" he growled. He jerked his jersey, displaying a brass + badge, P. A. Guard. + </p> + <p> + "Git outer here—git," he called. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Glass stepped forward, displaying his Health Department permit. The + giant laughed. + </p> + <p> + "Say, sonny," he sneered, "that don't go—see. Them tin fakes don't + git by. If you're one of them guys, you come here wit' McLaughlin, and + youse can rubber. But we've had enough of this stuff. Them dames is no + blind, neither. I'm guard for the owners here, and we ain't takin' no + chances wit' trouble makers—git. Git a move on!" + </p> + <p> + "The department," spluttered Glass, "shall hear of this." + </p> + <p> + "That's all right. McLaughlin's the boss. Tell 'em not to send a kid to do + a man's job." + </p> + <p> + Geneviève was too amazed to protest. It was her first experience of + defiance of Law and Order by Law and Order. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, the first stragglers of the released army of toilers were + nearly upon them. The giant observed their approach, and the look of + menace deepened on his huge, congested face. + </p> + <p> + "Move on, now—move on," he snarled, and herded them forward in + advance of the workers. + </p> + <p> + Sheepishly the three obeyed, but Miss Eliot was not silent. + </p> + <p> + "Your name?" she demanded in judicial command. + </p> + <p> + The very terseness of her question seemed to jerk an unwilling answer from + the guard. + </p> + <p> + "Michael Mehan." + </p> + <p> + "And you're employed by the Owners' Protective League?" + </p> + <p> + "Sure." + </p> + <p> + "Have they given you orders to keep strangers out of the district?" + </p> + <p> + "I have me orders, and I know what they be. I'm duly sworn in as extra + guard—and I'm not the only one, neither." + </p> + <p> + "Did <i>he</i> come after you?" Miss Eliot indicated the ruffian at his + side. + </p> + <p> + "I seen the lady owner blew the bunch," that worthy remarked with a hoarse + chuckle. "I wised Mike, all right. Whatcha goin' to do about it?" + </p> + <p> + "Mrs. Brewster-Smith, the owner," Miss Eliot observed, "didn't seem to + know that she had employed you. How about that?" + </p> + <p> + "I'm put here by the O.P.L. That's good enough fer yer lady owner—now—ain't + it? The things them nosey dames thinks they can git by wit'!" he observed + to the guard, and swore an oath that made Mr. Glass turn to him with + unexpected fury. + </p> + <p> + "You may pretend to think that I'm not what I represent myself to be, but + let me tell you, McLaughlin is going to hear of this. One more insult to + these ladies and I'll make it my business to go personally to your + employers. Get me?" + </p> + <p> + "Shut your trap, Jim," snarled Mehan. "Yer ain't got no orders fer no + fancy language." He leered at Geneviève. "Now we've shooed the chickens + out, we're tru'." With a wave of his huge paw he indicated the highway the + turn of the path revealed. + </p> + <p> + Geneviève looked to the right, where the car should be waiting her. It was + gone. Evidently the indignant Mrs. Brewster-Smith had expedited the + departure. Miss Eliot read her discomfiture. + </p> + <p> + "My car is right down here behind that palatial mansion with the hole in + the roof and the tin-can extension. Thank you very much for your escort," + she added, turning to the two representatives of the Protective League. + "My name, by the way, is E. Eliot. I am a real-estate agent and my office + is at 22 Braston Street. You might mention it in your report." + </p> + <p> + The little car stood waiting, surrounded by a group of admiring children. + Its owner stepped in briskly, backed around and received her passengers. + </p> + <p> + "Well," she smiled as they drew out on the traveled highway, "how do you + like the purlieus of our noble little city?" + </p> + <p> + Genevieve was silent. Then she spoke with conviction. + </p> + <p> + "When George is in power—and he's <i>got</i> to be—the Law + will be the Law. I know him." + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. BY MARJORIE BENTON COOK + </h2> + <p> + George Remington walked toward headquarters with more assurance than he + felt. He resented Doolittle's command that he appear at once. He was + beginning to realize the pressure which these campaign managers were + bringing to bear upon him. He was not sure yet how far he could go, in + out-and-out defiance of them and their dictates. + </p> + <p> + He knew that he had absolutely no ambitions, no interests in common with + these schemers, whose sole idea lay in party patronage, in manipulating + every political opportunity—in short, in reaping where they had + sown. The question now confronting him was this: was he prepared to sell + his political birthright for the mess of pottage they offered him? + </p> + <p> + He stood a second at the door of the office, peering through the reeking, + smoke-filled atmosphere, to get a bird's-eye view of the situation before + he entered. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Doolittle sat on the edge of a table monologuing to Wes' Norton and + Pat Noonan. Mr. + </p> + <p> + Norton was the president of the Whitewater Commercial Club, composed of + the leading merchants of the town, and Mr. Noonan was the apostle of the + liquor interests. Remington felt his back stiffen as he stepped among + them. + </p> + <p> + "Good-evening, gentlemen," he said briskly. + </p> + <p> + "H'are ye, George?" drawled Doolittle. + </p> + <p> + "There was something you wanted to discuss with me?" + </p> + <p> + "I dunno as there's anything to discuss, but there's a few things Wes' an' + Pat an' me'd like to say to ye. There ain't no two ways of thinkin' about + the prosperity of Whitewater, ye know, George. The merchants in this town + is satisfied with the way things is boomin'. The factory workers is + gittin' theirs, with high wages an' overtime. The stockholders is makin' + no kick on the dividends—as ye know, George, being one of them. + </p> + <p> + "Now, we don't want nuthin' to disturb all this If the fact'ries is + crackin' the law a bit, why, it ain't the first time such things has got + by the inspector. The fact'ry managers'd like some assurance from ye that + ye're goin' to keep yer hands off before they line up the fact'ry hands to + vote for ye." + </p> + <p> + Doolittle paused here. George nodded. + </p> + <p> + "When are ye comin' out with a plain statement of yer intentions, George?" + inquired Mr. Norton in a conciliatory tone. + </p> + <p> + "The voters in this town will get a clear statement of my stand on all the + issues of this campaign in plenty of time, gentlemen." + </p> + <p> + "That's all right fer the voter, but ye can't stall <i>us</i> wit' that + kind of talk—" began Noonan. + </p> + <p> + "Wait a minute, Pat," counseled Doolittle. "George means all right. He's + new to this game, but he means to stand fer the intrusts of his party, + don't ye, George?" + </p> + <p> + "I should scarcely be the candidate of that party if I did not." + </p> + <p> + "I ain't interested in no oratory. Are ye or are ye not goin' to keep yer + hands off the prosperity of Whitewater?" demanded Noonan angrily. + </p> + <p> + "Look here, Noonan, I am the candidate for this office—you're not. I + intend to do as my conscience dictates. I will not be hampered at every + turn, nor told what to say and what to think. I must get to these things + in my own way." + </p> + <p> + "Don't ye fergit that ye're <i>our</i> candidate, that ye are to express + the opinion of the people who will elect ye, and not any dam' theories of + yer own——" + </p> + <p> + "I think I get your meaning, Noonan." + </p> + <p> + George spoke with a smile which for some reason disconcerted Noonan. He + sensed with considerable irritation the social and class breach between + himself and Remington, and while he did not understand it he resented it. + He called him "slick" to Wes' and Doolittle and loudly bewailed their + choice of him as candidate. + </p> + <p> + "Then there's that P.L. bizness, Pat—don't fergit that," urged Wes'. + </p> + <p> + "I ain't fergittin' it. There's too much nosin' round Kentwood district by + the women, George. Too much talkin'. Ye'd better call that off right now. + Property owners down there is satisfied, an' they got <i>their</i> rights, + ye know." "I suppose you know what the conditions down there are?" + </p> + <p> + "Sure we know, George, and we want to clean it up down there just as much + as you do," said the pacific Doolittle; "but what we're sayin' is, this + ain't the time to do it. Later, mebbe, when the conditions is jest right——" + </p> + <p> + "Somebody has got the women stirred up fer fair. It's up to you to call + 'em off, George," said Mr. Norton. + </p> + <p> + "How can I call them off?"—tartly. + </p> + <p> + "Ye can put the brakes on Mrs. Remington and that there Sheridan girl, + can't ye?" + </p> + <p> + "Miss Sheridan is no longer in my employ. As for Mrs. Remington, if she is + not one in spirit with me, I cannot force her to be. Every human being has + a right to——" + </p> + <p> + "Some change sence ye last expressed yerself, George. Seems like I recall + ye sayin', 'I'll settle that!'" remarked Doolittle coldly. + </p> + <p> + "We will leave my wife's name out of the discussion, please," said George + with tardy but noble loyalty. "Well, them two I mentioned can stir up some + trouble; but they ain't the brains of their gang, by a long shot. It's + this E. Eliot we gotta deal with. She's as smart, if not smarter, than any + man in this town. She's smarter than you, George—or me, either," he + added consolingly. + </p> + <p> + "I've seen her about, but I've never talked to her. What sort of woman is + she?" + </p> + <p> + "Quiet, sensible kind. Ye keep thinking, 'How reasonable that woman is,' + till ye wake up and find she's got ye hooked on one of the horns of yer + own damfoolishness! Slick as they make 'em and straight as a string—that's + E. Eliot." + </p> + <p> + "What do you want me to do about it?"—impatiently. + </p> + <p> + "Are ye aimin' to answer them voiceless questions?" Pat inquired. + </p> + <p> + Silence. + </p> + <p> + "Plannin' to tear down Kentwood and enforce them factory laws?" demanded + Wes' Norton. + </p> + <p> + Still no answer. + </p> + <p> + "I'm jest callin' yer attention to the fact that this election is gittin' + nearer every day." "What am I to do with her? I can't afford to show we're + afraid of her." + </p> + <p> + "Huh." + </p> + <p> + "I can't bribe her to stop." + </p> + <p> + "I'd like to see the fella that would try to bribe E. Eliot," Doolittle + chuckled. "Wouldn't be enough of him left to put in a teacup." + </p> + <p> + "Then we've got to ignore her." + </p> + <p> + "<i>We</i> can ignore her, all right, George; but the women an' some of + the voters ain't ignoring her. It's my idea she's got a last card up her + sleeve to play the day before we go to the polls that'll fix us." + </p> + <p> + "Have you any plan in your mind?" + </p> + <p> + Doolittle scratched his head, wrestling with thought. + </p> + <p> + "We was thinking that if she could be called away suddenly, and detained + till after election—" he began meaningly. + </p> + <p> + "You mean——" + </p> + <p> + "Something like that." + </p> + <p> + "I won't have it, not if I lose the election. I won't stoop to kidnapping + a woman like a highwayman. What do you take me for, Doolittle?" "Georgie, + politics ain't no kid-glove bizness. It ain't what <i>you</i> want; you're + jest a small part of this affair. You're <i>our</i> candidate, and we <i>got</i> + to win this here election. Do you get me?" + </p> + <p> + He shot out his underjaw, and there was no sign of his usual good humor. + </p> + <p> + "Well, but——" + </p> + <p> + "You don't have to know anything about this. We'll handle it. You'll be + pertected to the limit; don't you worry," sneered Noonan. + </p> + <p> + "But you can't get away with this old-fashioned stuff nowadays, + Doolittle," protested Remington. + </p> + <p> + "Can't we? You jest leave it to your Uncle Benjamin. You don't know + nothing about this. See?" + </p> + <p> + "I know it's a dirty, low, underhanded——" + </p> + <p> + "George," remarked Mr. Doolittle, slowly hoisting his big body on to its + short legs, "in politics we don't call a spade a spade. We call it 'a + agricultural implument.'" + </p> + <p> + With this sage remark Mr. Doolittle took his departure, followed by the + other prominent citizens. + </p> + <p> + George sat where they left him, head in hands, for several moments. Then + he sprang up and rushed to the door to call them back. + </p> + <p> + He would not stand it—he would not win at that price. He had + conceded everything they had demanded of him up to this point, but here he + drew the line. Ever since that one independent fling of his about suffrage + they had treated him like a naughty child. What did they think he was—a + rubber doll? He would telephone Doolittle that he would rather give up his + candidacy. Here he paused. + </p> + <p> + Suppose he did withdraw, nobody would understand. The town would think the + women had frightened him off. He couldn't come out now and denounce the + machine methods of his party. Every eye in Whitewater was focused on him; + his friends were working for him; the district attorneyship was the next + step in his career; Geneviève expected him to win—no, he must go + through with it! But after he got into office, then he would show them! He + would take orders from no one. He sat down again and moodily surveyed the + future. + </p> + <p> + In the days which followed, another mental struggle was taking place in + the Remington family. Poor Genevieve was like a woman struck by lightning. + She felt that her whole structure of life had crashed about her ears. In + one blinding flash she had seen and condemned George because he considered + political expediency. She realized that she must think for herself now and + not rely on him for the family celebration. She had conceived her whole + duty in life to consist in being George's wife; but now, by a series of + accidents, she had become aware of the great social responsibilities, the + larger human issues, which men and women must meet together. + </p> + <p> + Betty and E. Eliot had pointed out to her that she knew nothing of the + conditions in her own town. They assured her that it was as much her duty + to know about such things as to know the condition of her own back yard. + </p> + <p> + Then came the awful revelations of Kentwood—human beings huddled + like rats; children swarming, dirty and hungry! She could not bear to + remember the scenes she had witnessed in Kentwood. + </p> + <p> + She recalled the shock of Alys Brewster-Smith's indifference to all that + misery! The widow's one instinct had seemed to be to fight E. Eliot and + the health officer for their interference. Stranger still, the tenants did + not want to be moved out, driven on. The whole situation was confused, but + in it at least one thing stood out clearly: Geneviève realized, during the + sleepless night after her visit to Kentwood, that she hated Cousin Alys! + </p> + <p> + The following Sunday, when she put on her coat, she found a souvenir of + that visit in her pocket, a soiled reminder of poverty and toil. She + remembered picking it up and noting that it was the factory pass of one + Marya Slavonsky. She had intended to leave it with some one in the + district, but evidently in the excitement of her enforced exit she had + thrust it into her pocket. + </p> + <p> + This Marya worked in the factories. She was one of that grimy army + Geneviève had seen coming out of the factory gate, and she went home to + that pen which Cousin Alys provided. Marya was a girl of Genevieve's own + age, perhaps, while she, Geneviève, had this comfortable home, and George! + She had been blind, selfish, but she would make up for it, she <i>would</i>! + She would make a study of the needs of such people; she would go among + them like St. Agatha, scattering alms and wisdom. George might have his + work; she had found hers! She would begin with the factory girls. She + would waken them to what had so lately dawned on her. How could she manage + it? The rules of admission in the munition factories were very strict. + </p> + <p> + Then again her eye fell upon the soiled card and a great idea was born in + her brain. Dressed as a factory girl, she would use Marya's card to get + her into the circle of these new-found sisters. She would see how and + where they worked. She would report it all to the Forum and to George. She + could be of use to George at last. + </p> + <p> + She remembered Betty's statement that at midnight in the factories the + women and girls had an hour off. That was the time she chose, with true + dramatic instinct. + </p> + <p> + She rummaged in the attic for an hour, getting her costume ready. She + decided on an old black suit and a shawl which had belonged to her mother. + She carried these garments to her bedroom and hid them there. Then, with + Machiavellian finesse, she laid her plans. + </p> + <p> + She would slip out of bed at half-past eleven o'clock, taking care not to + waken George, and she would dress and leave the house by the side door. By + walking fast she could reach by midnight the factory to which she had + admission. + </p> + <p> + It annoyed her considerably to have George announce at luncheon that he + had a political dinner on for the evening and probably would not be home + before midnight. He grumbled a little over the dinner. "The campaign," he + said, "really ended yesterday. But Doolittle thought it was wise to have a + last round-up of the business men, and give them a final speech." + </p> + <p> + Geneviève acquiesced with a sympathetic murmur, but she was disappointed. + Merely to walk calmly out of the house at eleven o'clock lessened the + excitement. However, she decided upon leaving George a note explaining + that she had gone to spend the night with Betty Sheridan. + </p> + <p> + She looked forward to the long afternoon with impatience. Cousin Emelene + was taking her nap. Mrs. Brewster-Smith left immediately after lunch to + make a call on one of her few women friends. Genevieve tried to get Betty + on the telephone, but she was not at home. + </p> + <p> + It was with a thrill of pleasure that she saw E. Eliot coming up the walk + to the door. She hurried downstairs just as the maid explained that Mrs. + Brewster-Smith was not at home. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, won't you come in and see me for a moment, Miss Eliot?" Genevieve + begged. "I do so want to talk to you." + </p> + <p> + E. Eliot hesitated. "The truth is, I am fearfully busy today, even though + it's Sunday. I wanted to get five minutes with Mrs. Brewster-Smith about + those cottages—" she began. + </p> + <p> + Genevieve laid a detaining hand on her arm and led her into the + living-room. + </p> + <p> + "She's hopeless! I can hardly bear to have her in my house after the way + she acted about those fearful places." + </p> + <p> + "Well, all that district is the limit, of course. She isn't the only + landlord." + </p> + <p> + "But she didn't <i>see</i> those people." "She's human, I guess—didn't + want to see disturbing things." + </p> + <p> + "I would have torn down those cottages with my own hands!" burst forth + Geneviève. + </p> + <p> + E. Eliot stared. "No one likes her income cut down, you know," she + palliated. + </p> + <p> + "Income! What is that to human decencies?" cried the newly awakened + apostle. + </p> + <p> + "Your husband doesn't entirely agree with you in some of these matters, I + suppose." + </p> + <p> + "Oh, yes he does, in his heart! But there's something about politics that + won't let you come right out and say what you think." + </p> + <p> + "Not after you've come right out once and said the wrong thing," laughed + E. Eliot. "I'm afraid you will have to use your indirect influence on him, + Mrs. Remington." + </p> + <p> + Geneviève threw her cards on the table. + </p> + <p> + "Miss Eliot, I am just beginning to see how much there is for women to do + in the world. I want to do something big—the sort of thing you and + Betty Sheridan are doing—to rouse women. What can I do?" E. Eliot + scrutinized the ardent young face with amiable amusement. + </p> + <p> + "You can't very well help us just now without hurting your husband's + chances and embarrassing him in the bargain. You see, we're trying to + embarrass him. We want him to kick over the traces and tell what he's + going to do as district attorney of this town." + </p> + <p> + "But can't I do something that won't interfere with George? Couldn't I + investigate the factories, or organize the working girls?" + </p> + <p> + "My child, have you ever organized anything?" exclaimed E. Eliot. + </p> + <p> + "No." + </p> + <p> + "Well, don't begin on the noble working girl. She doesn't organize easily. + Wait until the election is over. Then you come in on our schemes and we'll + teach you how to do things. But don't butt in now, I beg of you. + Misguided, well-meaning enthusiasts like you can do more harm to our cause + than all the anti-suffragists in this world!" + </p> + <p> + With her genial, disarming smile, E. Eliot rose and departed. She chuckled + all the way back to her rooms over the idea of Remington's bride wanting + to take the field with the enemies of her wedded lord. + </p> + <p> + "Women, women! God bless us, but we're funny!" mused E. Eliot. + </p> + <p> + Genevieve liked her caller immensely, and she thought over her advice, but + she determined to let it make no difference in her plans. + </p> + <p> + She saw her work cut out for her. She would not flinch! + </p> + <p> + She would do her bit in the great cause of women—no, of humanity. + The flame of her purpose burned steadily and high. + </p> + <p> + At a quarter-past eleven that night a slight, black-clad figure, with a + shawl over its head, softly closed the side door of the Remington house + and hurried down the street. Never before had Genevieve been alone on the + streets after dark. She had not foreseen how frightened she would be at + the long, dark stretches, nor how much more frightened when any one passed + her. Two men spoke to her. She sped on, turning now this way, now that, + without regard to direction—her eyes over her shoulder, in terror + lest she be followed. + </p> + <p> + So it was that she plunged around a corner and into the very arms of E. + Eliot, who was sauntering home from a political meeting, where she had + been a much-advertised speaker. She was in the habit of prowling about by + herself. Tonight she was, as usual, unattended—unless one observed + two burly workingmen who walked slowly in her wake. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, I beg your pardon," came a gently modulated voice from behind the + shawl. E. Eliot stared. + </p> + <p> + "No harm done here. Did I hurt you?" she replied. + </p> + <p> + She thought she heard an involuntary "Oh!" from beneath the shawl. + </p> + <p> + "No, thanks. Could you tell me how to get to the Whitewater Arms and + Munitions Factory? I'm all turned around." + </p> + <p> + "Certainly. Two blocks that way to the State Road, and half a mile north + on that. Shall I walk to the road with you?" + </p> + <p> + "Oh, no, thank you," the girl answered and hurried on. E. Eliot stood and + watched her. Where had she heard that voice? She knew a good many girls + who worked at the factories, but none of them spoke like that. All at once + a memory came to her: "Couldn't I investigate something, or organize the + working girls?" Mrs. George Remington! + </p> + <p> + "The little fool," ejaculated the other woman, and turned promptly to + follow the flying figure. + </p> + <p> + The two burly gentlemen in the rear also turned and followed, but E. Eliot + was too busy planning how to manage Mrs. Remington to notice them. She had + to walk rapidly to keep her quarry in sight. As she came within some + thirty yards of the gate she saw Genevieve challenge the gatekeeper, + present her card and slip inside, the gate clanging to behind her. + </p> + <p> + E. Eliot broke into a jog trot, rounded the corner of the wall, pulled + herself up quickly, using the stones of the wall as footholds. She hung + from the top and let herself drop softly inside, standing perfectly still + in the shadow. At the same moment the two burly gentlemen ran round the + corner and saw nothing. "I told ye to run—" began one of them + fiercely. + </p> + <p> + "Aw, shut up. If she went over here, she'll come out here. We'll wait." + </p> + <p> + The midnight gong and the noise of the women shuffling out into the + courtyard drowned that conversation for E. Eliot. She stood and watched + the gatekeeper saunter indoors, not waiting for the man who relieved him + on duty. She watched Genevieve go forward and meet the factory hands. + </p> + <p> + The newcomer shyly spoke to the first group. The eavesdropper could not + hear what she said. But the crowd gathered about the speaker, shuffling, + chaffing, finally listening. Somebody captured the gatekeeper's stool and + Geneviève stood on it. + </p> + <p> + "What I want to tell you is how beautiful it is for women to stand + together and work together to make the world better," she began. + </p> + <p> + "Say, what is your job?" demanded a girl, suspicious of the soft voice and + modulated speech. + </p> + <p> + "Well, I—I only keep house now. But I intend to begin to do a great + deal for the community, for all of you——" "She keeps house—poor + little overworked thing!" + </p> + <p> + "But the point is, not what you do, but the spirit you do it in——" + </p> + <p> + "What is this, a revival meetin'?" + </p> + <p> + "So I want to tell you what the women of this town mean to do." + </p> + <p> + "Hear! Hear! Listen at the suffragette!" + </p> + <p> + "First, we mean to clean up the Kentwood district. You all know how awful + those cottages are." + </p> + <p> + "Sure; we live in 'em!" + </p> + <p> + "We intend to force the landlords to tear them down and improve all that + district." + </p> + <p> + "Much obliged, lady, and where do we go?" demanded one of her listeners. + </p> + <p> + "You must have better living conditions." + </p> + <p> + "But where? Rents in this town has boomed since the war began. Ain't that + got to you yet? There ain't no place left fer the poor." + </p> + <p> + "Then we must find places and make them healthy and beautiful." + </p> + <p> + "For the love of Mike! She's talkin' about heaven, ain't she?" "She's + talkin' through her hat!" cried another. + </p> + <p> + "Then, we mean to make the factories obey the laws. They have no right to + make you girls work here at night." + </p> + <p> + "Who's makin' us?" + </p> + <p> + "We are going to force the factories to obey the letter of the law on our + statute books." + </p> + <p> + A thin, flushed girl stepped out of the crowd and faced her. + </p> + <p> + "Say, who is 'we'?" + </p> + <p> + "Why, all of us, the women of Whitewater." + </p> + <p> + "How are we goin' to repay the women of Whitewater fer tearin' down our + homes an' takin' away our jobs? Ain't there somethin' we can do to show + our gratitood?" the new speaker asked earnestly. + </p> + <p> + "Go to it—let her have it, Mamie Flynn!" cried the crowd. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, but you mustn't look at it that way! We must all make some sacrifices——" + </p> + <p> + "Cut that slush! What do you know about sacrifices? I'm on to you. You're + one of them uptown reformers. What do you know about sacrifices? Ye got a + sure place to sleep, ain't ye? Ye've got a full belly an' a husband to + give ye spendin' money, ain't ye? Don't ye come down here gittin' our jobs + away an' then fergettin' all about us!" + </p> + <p> + There was a buzz of agreement and an undertone of anger which to an + experienced speaker would have been ominous. But Geneviève blundered on: + "We only want to help you——" + </p> + <p> + "We don't want yer help ner yer advice. You keep yer hands off our + business! Do yer preachin' uptown—that's where they need it. Ask the + landlords of Kentwood and the stockholders in the munition factories to + make some sacrifices, an' see where that gits ye! But don't ye come down + here, a-spyin' on us, ye dirty——" + </p> + <p> + The last words were happily lost as the crowd of girls closed in on + Geneviève with cries of "Spy!" "Scab!" "Throw her out!" + </p> + <p> + They had nearly torn her clothes off before E. Eliot was among them. She + sprang up on the chair and shouted: + </p> + <p> + "Girls—here, hold on a minute." + </p> + <p> + There was a hush. Some one called out: "It's Miss E. Eliot." "Listen a + minute. Don't waste your time getting mad at this girl. She's a friend of + mine. And you may not believe me, but she means all right." + </p> + <p> + "What's she pussyfootin' in here for?" + </p> + <p> + "Don't you know the story of the man from Pittsburgh who died and went + on?" cried E. Eliot. "Some kindly spirit showed him round the place, and + the newcomer said: 'Well, I don't think heaven's got anything on + Pittsburgh.' 'This isn't heaven!' said the spirit." + </p> + <p> + There was a second's pause, and then the laugh came. + </p> + <p> + "Now, this girl has just waked up to the fact that Whitewater isn't + heaven, and she thought you'd like to hear the news! I'll take the poor + lamb home, put cracked ice on her head and let her sleep it off." + </p> + <p> + They laughed again. + </p> + <p> + "Go to it," said the erstwhile spokeswoman for the working girls. + </p> + <p> + E. Eliot called them a cheery good-night. The factory girls drifted away, + in little groups, leaving Geneviève, bedraggled and hysterical, clinging + to her rescuer. + </p> + <p> + "They would have killed me if you hadn't come!" she gasped. + </p> + <p> + E. Eliot thought quickly. + </p> + <p> + "Stand here in the shadow of the fence till I come back," she said. "It + will be all right. I've got to run into the office and send a telephone + message. I have a pal there who will let me do it." + </p> + <p> + "You—you won't be long?" + </p> + <p> + It was clear that the nerve of Mrs. Remington was quite gone. + </p> + <p> + "I won't be gone five minutes." + </p> + <p> + E. Eliot was as good as her word. + </p> + <p> + When she returned she seized the stool on which her companion had made her + maiden speech—ran to the wall, placed it at the spot where she had + made her entrance and urged Geneviève to climb up and drop over; as she + obeyed, E. Eliot mounted beside her. They dropped off, almost at the same + moment—into arms upheld to catch them. + </p> + <p> + Geneviève screamed, and was promptly choked. "What'll we do with this + extra one?" asked a hoarse voice. + </p> + <p> + "Bring her. There's no time to waste now. If ye yell again, ye'll both be + strangled," the second speaker added as he led the way toward the road, + where the dimmed lights of a motor car shone. + </p> + <p> + He was carrying E. Eliot as if she were a doll. Behind him his assistant + stumbled along, bearing, less easily but no less firmly, the, wife of the + candidate for district attorney! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. BY WILLIAM ALLEN WHITE + </h2> + <p> + As the two gagged women—one comfortably gagged with more or less + pleasant bandages made and provided, the other gagged by the large, smelly + hand of an entire stranger to Mrs. George Remington—whom she was + trying impolitely to bite, by way of introduction—were speeding + through the night, Mr. George Remington, ending a long and late speech + before the Whitewater Business Men's Club, was saying these things: + </p> + <p> + "I especially deplore this modern tendency to talk as though there were + two kinds of people in this country—those interested in good + government, and those interested in bad government. We are all good + Americans. We are all interested in good government. Some of us believe + good government may be achieved through a protective tariff and a proper + consideration for prosperity [cheers], and others, in their blindness, bow + down to wood and stone!" + </p> + <p> + He smiled amiably at the laughter, and continued: + </p> + <p> + "But while some of us see things differently as to means, our aims are + essentially the same. You don't divide people according to trades and + callings. I deplore this attempt to set the patriotic merchant against the + patriotic saloonkeeper; the patriotic follower of the race track against + the patriotic manufacturer. + </p> + <p> + "Here is my good friend, Benjie Doolittle. When he played the ponies in + the old days, before he went into the undertaking and furniture business, + was he less patriotic than now? Was he less patriotic then than my Uncle + Martin Jaffry is now, with all his manufacturer's interest in a stable + government? And is my Uncle Martin Jaffry more patriotic than Pat Noonan? + Or is Pat less patriotic than our substantial merchant, Wesley Norton? + </p> + <p> + "Down with this talk that would make lines of moral and patriotic cleavage + along lines of vocation or calling. I want no votes of those who pretend + that the good Americans should vote in one box and the bad Americans in + another box. I want the votes of those of all castes and cults who believe + in prosperity [loud cheers], and I want the votes of those who believe in + the glorious traditions of our party, its magnificent principles, its + martyred heroes, its deathless name in our history!" + </p> + <p> + It was, of course, an after-dinner speech. Being the last speech of the + campaign it was also a highly important one. But George Remington felt, as + he sat listening to the din of the applause, that he had answered rather + neatly those who said he was wabbling on the local economic issue and was + swaying in the wind of socialist agitation which the women had started in + Whitewater. + </p> + <p> + As he left the hotel where the dinner had been given, he met his partner + on the sidewalk. + </p> + <p> + "Get in, Penny," he urged, jumping into his car. "Come out to the house + for the night, and we'll have Betty over to breakfast. Then she and + Geneviève and you and I will see if we can't restore the <i>ante-bellum + modus vivendi</i>! Come on! Emelene and Alys always breakfast in bed, + anyway, and it will be no trouble to get Betty over." The two men rode + home in complacent silence. It was long past midnight. They sat on the + veranda to finish their cigars before going into the house. + </p> + <p> + "Penny," asked George suddenly, "what has Pat Noonan got in this game—I + mean against the agitation by the women and this investigation of + conditions in Kentwood? Why should he agonize over it?" + </p> + <p> + "Is he fussing about it?" + </p> + <p> + "Is he? Do you think I'd tie his name up in a public speech with Martin + Jaffry if Pat wasn't off the reservation? You could see him swell up like + a pizened pup when I did it! I hope Uncle Martin will not be offended." + </p> + <p> + "He's a good sport, George. But say—what did Pat do to give you this + hunch?" + </p> + <p> + Remington smoked in meditative silence, then answered: + </p> + <p> + "Well, Penny, I had to raise the devil of a row the other day to keep Pat + from ribbing up Benjie Doolittle and the organization to a frame-up to + kidnap this Eliot person." + </p> + <p> + "Kidnap E. Eliot!" gasped the amazed Evans. "Kidnap that very pest. And I + tell you, man, if I hadn't roared like a stuck ox they would have done it! + Fancy introducing 'Prisoner of Zenda' stuff into the campaign in + Whitewater! Though I will say this, Penny, as between old army friends and + college chums," continued Mr. Remington earnestly, "if a warrior bold with + spurs of gold, who was slightly near-sighted and not particular about his + love being so damned young and fair, would swoop down and carry this E. + Eliot off to his princely donjon, and would let down the portcullis for + two days, until the election is over, it would help some! Though otherwise + I don't wish her any bad luck!" + </p> + <p> + The old army friend and college chum laughed. + </p> + <p> + "Well, that's your end of the story! I'm mighty glad you stopped it. + Here's my end. You remember two-fingered Moll, who was our first client? + The one who insisted on being referred to as a lady? The one who got + converted and quit the game and who thought she was being pursued by the + racetrack gang because she was trying to live decent?" + </p> + <p> + George smiled in remembrance. "Well, she called me up to know if there was + any penalty for renting a house to Mike the Goat and his wife and old + Salubrious the Armenian, who had a lady friend they were keeping from the + cops against her will. She said they weren't going to hurt the lady, and I + could see her every day to prove it. I advised her to keep out of it, of + course; but she was strong for it, because of what she called the big + money. I explained carefully that if anything should happen, her past + reputation would go against her. But she kept saying it was straight, + until I absolutely forbade her to do it, and she promised not to." + </p> + <p> + "Mike and his woman, and Old Salubrious!" echoed Remington. "And E. Eliot + locked up with them for two days!" + </p> + <p> + He shivered, partly at the memory of his own mealy-mouthed protest. + </p> + <p> + "Well," he said, and there was an air of finality in his tone, "I'm glad I + stopped the whole infamous business." + </p> + <p> + Mentally he decided to get Noonan on the telephone the first thing in the + morning and make certain that the plan was abandoned. He continued his + chat with Evans. + </p> + <p> + "But, Penny, why this agonizing of Noonan? What has he to lose by the + better conditions in Kentwood? Why should he——" + </p> + <p> + Outside of a neat white dwelling in the suburbs of Whitewater, four + figures were struggling in the night toward a vine-covered door—that + door which appeared so attractively in the <i>Welfare Bulletin</i> of the + Toledo Blade Steel Company's publicity program as the "prize garden home + of J. Agricola, roller." + </p> + <p> + A woman stood in the doorway, holding the door open. Two women, who had + been carried by two men, from an automobile at the gate, were forced + through. There the men left them with their hostess. + </p> + <p> + "I was only looking for one of yez," she said, hospitably, "but you're + bote welcome. Now, ladies, I'm goin' to make you comfortable. It won't do + no good to scream, so I'm goin' to take your gags off. And I hope you, + lady, haven't been inconvenienced by a handkerchief. We could just as well + have arranged for your comfort, too." + </p> + <p> + "Madam," gasped E. Eliot, who was the first to be released to speech, "it + is unimportant who I am. But do you know that this woman with me is Mrs. + George Remington, the wife of the candidate for district attorney—Mr. + George Remington of Whitewater? There has been a mistake." + </p> + <p> + The hostess looked at Genevieve, who nodded a tearful confirmation. But + the woman only smiled. + </p> + <p> + "My man don't make mistakes," she said laconically. "And, what's more to + the point, miss, he's a friend of George Remington, and why should he be + giving his lady a vacation? You are E. Eliot, and your friends think + you're workin' too hard, so they're goin' to give you a nice rest. Nothin' + will happen to you if you are a lady, as I think you are. And when I find + out who this other lady is, we'll make her as welcome as you!" + </p> + <p> + She went out of the room, locking the door behind her as the two women + struggled vainly with their bonds. In an instant she returned. + </p> + <p> + "My man says to tell the one who thinks she's Mrs. George Remington that + she's spendin' the week-end with Mrs. Napoleon Boneypart." My man says + he's a good friend of George Remington and is supportin' him for district + attorney, and that's how he can make it so pleasant here. + </p> + <p> + "And I'll tell you something else," she continued proudly. "When George + got married, it was my man that went up and down Smoky Row and seen all + the girls and got 'em to give a dollar apiece for them lovely roses + labeled 'The Young Men's Republican Club.' Mr. Doolittle he seen to that. + My man really collected fifty dollars more'n he turned in, and I got a + diamond-set wrist watch with it! So, you see, we're real friendly with + them Remingtons, and we're glad to see you, Mrs. Remington!" + </p> + <p> + "Oh, how horrible!" cried Geneviève. "There were eight dozen of those + roses from the Young Men's Republican Club, and to think—-Oh, to + think——" + </p> + <p> + "Well, now, George," cried Mr. Penfield Evans, "just stop and think. Use + your bean, my boy! What is the one thing on earth that puts the fear of + God into Pat Noonan? It's prohibition. Look at the prohibition map out + West and at the suffrage map out West. They fit each other like the paper + on the wall. Whatever women may lack in intelligence about some things, + there is one thing woman knows—high and low, rich and poor! She + knows that the saloon is her enemy, and she hits it; and Pat Noonan, + seeing this rise of women investigating industry, makes common cause with + Martin Jaffry and the whole employing class of Whitewater against the + nosey interference of women. + </p> + <p> + "And Pat Noonan is depending on you," continued Evans. "He expects you to + rise. He expects you to go to Congress—possibly to the Senate, and + he figures that he wants to be dead sure you'll not get to truckling to + decency on the liquor question. So he ties you up—or tries you out + for a tie-up or a kidnapping; and Benjie Doolittle, who likes a sporting + event, takes a chance that you'll stand hitched in a plan to rid the + community of a political pest without seriously hurting the pest—a + friendless old maid who won't be missed for a day or two, and whose + disappearance can be hushed up one way or another after she appears too + late for the election. + </p> + <p> + "Just figure things out, George. Do you think Noonan got Mike the Goat to + assess the girls on the row a dollar apiece for your flowers from the + Young Men's Republican Club, for his health! You had the grace to thank + Pat, but if you didn't know where they came from," explained Mr. Evans + cynically, "it was because you have forgotten where all Pat's floral + offerings from the Y.M.R.C. come from at weddings and funerals! And Pat + feels that you're his kind of people. + </p> + <p> + "Politics, George, is not the chocolate éclair that you might think it, if + you didn't know it! Use your bean, my boy! Use your bean! And you'll see + why Pat Noonan lines up with the rugged captains of industry who are the + bulwarks of our American liberty. Pat uses his head for something more + than a hatrack." + </p> + <p> + The two puffed for a time in silence. Finally the host said: "Well, let's + turn in." Three minutes later George called across the upper hall to + Penfield. + </p> + <p> + "The joke's on us, Penny. Here's a note saying that Geneviève is over with + Betty for the night. We'll call her up after breakfast and have them both + over to a surprise party." + </p> + <p> + Penny strolled across to his friend's door. He was disappointed, and he + showed it. He found George sitting on the side of his bed. + </p> + <p> + "Penny," mused the Young Man in Politics, in his finest mood, "you know I + sometimes think that, perhaps, way down deep, there is something wrong + with our politics. I don't like to be hooked up with Noonan and his gang. + And I don't like the way Noonan and his gang are hooked up with Wesley + Norton and the silk stockings and Uncle Martin and the big fellows. Why + can't we get rid of the Noonan influence? They aren't after the things + we're after! They only furnish the unthinking votes that make majorities + that elect the fellows the big crooks handle. Lord, man, it's a dirty + mess! And why women want to get into the dirty mess is more than I can + see." "What a sweet valedictory address you are making for a young ladies' + school!" scoffed Penny. "The hills are green far off! Aren't you the Sweet + Young Thing. But I'll tell you why the women want to get in, George. They + think they want to clean up the mess." + </p> + <p> + "But would they clean it? Wouldn't they vote about as we vote?" + </p> + <p> + "Well," answered Mr. Evans with the cynicism of the judicial mind, "let's + see. You know now, if you didn't know at the time, that Noonan got Mike + the Goat to assess the disorderly houses for the money to buy your wedding + roses from the Y.M.R.C. All right. Noonan's bartender is on the ticket + with you as assemblyman. Are you going to vote for him or not?" + </p> + <p> + "But, Penny, I've just about got to vote for him." + </p> + <p> + "All right, then. I'll tell Geneviève the truth about Noonan and the + flowers, and I'll ask her if she would feel that she had to vote for + Noonan's bartender!" retorted Mr. Evans. "Giving women the ballot will + help at least that much. If the Noonans stay in politics, they'll get no + help from the women when they vote!" + </p> + <p> + "But aren't we protecting the women?" + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + "Anyway, Mrs. Remington," said E. Eliot comfortably, "I'm glad it happened + just this way. Without you, they would hold me until after the election on + Tuesday. With you, about tomorrow at ten o'clock we shall be released. E. + Eliot alone they have made every provision for holding. They have started + a scandal, I don't doubt, necessary to explain my absence, and pulled the + political wires to keep me from making a fuss about it afterward. They + know their man in the district attorney's office, and——" + </p> + <p> + "Do you mean George Remington?" This from his wife, with flashing eyes. + </p> + <p> + "I mean," explained E. Eliot unabashed, "that for some reason they feel + safe with George Remington in the district attorney's office, or they + would not kidnap me to prevent his defeat! That is the cold-blooded + situation." + </p> + <p> + "This party," E. Eliot smiled, "is given at the country home of Mike the + Goat, as nearly as I can figure it out. Mike is a right-hand man of + Noonan. Noonan is a right-hand man of Benjie Doolittle and Wesley Norton, + and they are all a part of the system that holds Martin Jaffry's + industries under the amiable beneficence of our sacred protective tariff! + Hail, hail, the gang's all here—what do we care now, my dear? And + because you are here and are part of the heaven-born combination for the + public good, I am content to go through the rigors of one night without a + nightie for the sake of the cause!" + </p> + <p> + "But they don't know who I am!" protested Mrs. Remington. "And——" + </p> + <p> + "Exactly, and for that reason they don't know who you are not. Tomorrow + the whole town will be looking for you, and Noonan will hear who you are + and where you are. Then! Say, girl—<i>say, girl,</i> it <i>will</i> + be grist for our mill! Fancy the headlines all over the United States: + </p> + <p> + 'GANG KIDNAPS CANDIDATE'S WIFE MYSTERY SHROUDS PLOT CANDIDATE REMINGTON IS + SILENT.'" + </p> + <p> + "But he won't be silent," protested the indignant Geneviève. + </p> + <p> + "I tell you, he'll denounce it from the platform. He'll never let this + outrage——" + </p> + <p> + "Well, my dear," said the imperturbable E. Eliot, "when he denounces this + plot he'll have to denounce Doolittle and Noonan, and probably Norton, and + maybe his Uncle Martin Jaffry. Somebody is paying big money for this job! + I said the headlines will declare: + </p> + <p> + 'CANDIDATE REMINGTON is SILENT But Still Maintains That Women Are + Protected from Rigors of Cruel World by Man's Chivalry.'" + </p> + <p> + "Oh, Miss Eliot, don't! How can you? Oh, I know George will not let this + outrage——" + </p> + <p> + "Of course not," hooted E. Eliot. "The sturdy oak will support the + clinging vine! But while he is doing it he will be defeated. And if he + doesn't protest he will be defeated, for I shall talk!" + </p> + <p> + "George Remington will face defeat like a gentleman, Miss Eliot; have no + fear of that. He will speak out, no matter what happens." "And when he + speaks, when he tells the truth about this whole alliance between the + greedy, ruthless rich and the brutal, vicious dregs of this community—our + cause is won!" + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + The next morning George Remington reached from his bed for his telephone + and called up the Sheridan residence. Two minutes later Penfield Evans + heard a shout. At his door stood the unclad and pallid candidate for + district attorney. + </p> + <p> + "Penny," he gasped, "Genevieve's not there! She has not been with Betty + all night. And Betty has gone out to find E. Eliot, who is missing from + her boarding-house!" + </p> + <p> + "Are you sure——" + </p> + <p> + "God—Penny—I thought I had stopped it!" + </p> + <p> + George was back in his room, flying into his clothes. The two men were + talking loudly. From down the hall a sleepy voice—unmistakably Mrs. + Brewster-Smith's—was drawling: + </p> + <p> + "George—George—are you awake? I didn't hear you come in. Dear + Geneviève went over to stay all night with Cousin Betty, and the oddest + thing happened. About midnight the telephone bell rang, and that odious + Eliot person called you up!" + </p> + <p> + George was in the hall in an instant and before Mrs. Brewster-Smith's + door. + </p> + <p> + "Well, well, for God's sake, what did she say!" he cried. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, yes, I was coming to that. She said to send your chauffeur with the + car down to the—oh, I forget, some nasty factory or something, for + Genevieve. She said Genevieve was down there talking to the factory girls. + Fancy that, George! So I just put up the receiver. I knew Genevieve was + with Betty Sheridan and not with that odious person at all—it was + some ruse to get your car and compromise you. Fancy dear Genevieve talking + to the factory girls at midnight!" + </p> + <p> + Penfield Evans and George Remington, standing in the hall, listened to + these words with terror in their hearts. + </p> + <p> + "Get Noonan first," said George. "I'll talk to him." + </p> + <p> + In five seconds Evans had Noonan's residence. Remington listened to + Penny's voice. "Gone," he was saying. "Gone where?" And then: "Why, he was + at the dinner last—-What's Doolittle's number?" ("Noonan went to New + York on the midnight train," he threw at George.) A moment later Remington + heard his partner cry, "Doolittle's gone to New York? On the midnight + train?" + </p> + <p> + "Try Norton," snapped George. Soon he heard Penny exclaim. "Albany?" said + Penny. "Mr. Norton is in Albany? Thank you!" + </p> + <p> + "Their alibis!" said Evans calmly, as he hung up the receiver and stared + at his partner. + </p> + <p> + "Well, it—it——Why, Penny, they've stolen Geneviève! That + damned Mike and the Armenian! They've got Geneviève with that Eliot woman! + God——Why, Penny, for God's sake, what——" + </p> + <p> + "Slowly, George—slowly. Let's move carefully." + </p> + <p> + The voice of Penfield Evans was cool and steady, + </p> + <p> + "First of all, we need not worry about any harm coming to Geneviève. She + is with Miss Eliot, and that woman has more sense than a man. She may be + depended upon. Now, then," Evans waved his partner to silence and went on: + "the next thing to consider is how much publicity we shall give this + episode." He paused. + </p> + <p> + "It's not a matter of publicity; it's a matter of getting Geneviève + immediately." + </p> + <p> + "An hour or so of publicity of the screaming, hysterical kind will not + help us to find Geneviève. But when we do find her, our publicity will + have defeated you!" + </p> + <p> + The two men stared at each other. Remington said: "You mean I must shield + the organization!" + </p> + <p> + "If you are to be elected—yes!" + </p> + <p> + "Do you think Geneviève and Miss Eliot would consent to shield the + organization when we find them? Why, Penny, you're mad! We must call up + the chief of police! We must scour the country! I propose to go right to + the newspapers! The more people who know of this dastardly thing the + sooner we shall recover the victims!" + </p> + <p> + "And the sooner Noonan, when he comes home tonight, will denounce you as + an accessory before the fact, with Norton and Doolittle as corroborating + witnesses for him! Oh, you're learning politics fast, George!" + </p> + <p> + The thought of what Genevieve would say when she knew, through Noonan and + Doolittle, that he had heard of the plot to kidnap Miss Eliot, and within + an hour had talked to his wife casually at luncheon without saying + anything about it, made George's heart stop. He realized that he was + learning something more than politics. He walked the floor of the room. + </p> + <p> + "Well," he said at last, "let's call in Uncle Martin Jaffry. He——" + </p> + <p> + "Yes; he is probably paying for the job. He might know something! I'll get + him." + </p> + <p> + "Paying for the job! Do you think he knew of this plot?" cried George as + Evans stood at the telephone. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, no. He just knew, in a leer from Doolittle, that they had + extraordinary need for Eve thousand dollars or so in your behalf—that + they had consulted you. And then Doolittle winked and Noonan cocked his + head rakishly, and Uncle Martin put—Hello, Mr. Jaffry. This is + Penny. Dress and come down to the office quickly. We are in serious + trouble." + </p> + <p> + Twenty minutes later Uncle Martin was sitting with the two young men in + the office of Remington and Evans. When they explained the situation to + him his dry little face screwed up. + </p> + <p> + "Well, at least Geneviève will be all right," he muttered. "E. Eliot will + take care of her. But, boys—boys," he squeezed his hands and rocked + in misery, "the devil of it is that I gave Doolittle the money in a check + and then went and got another check from the Owners' Protective + Association and took the peak load off myself, and Doolittle was with me + when I got the P. A. check. We've simply got to protect him. And, of + course, what he knows, Noonan knows. We can't go tearing up Jack here, + calling police and raising the town!" + </p> + <p> + George Remington rose. + </p> + <p> + "Then I've got to let my wife lie in some dive with that unspeakable Turk + and that Mike the Goat while you men dicker with the scoundrels who + committed this crime!" he said. "My God, every minute is precious! We must + act. Let me call the chief of police and the sheriff——" + </p> + <p> + "All dear friends of Noonan's," Penny quietly reminded him. "They probably + have the same tip about what is on as you and Uncle Martin have! Calm + down, George! First, let me go out and learn when Noonan and Doolittle are + coming home! When we know that, we can——" + </p> + <p> + "Penny, I can't wait. I must act now. I must denounce the whole damnable + plot to the people of this country. I must not rest one second longer in + silence as an accessory. I shall denounce——" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, George, you shall denounce," exclaimed his partner. "But just whom—yourself, + that you did not warn Miss Eliot all day yesterday!" + </p> + <p> + "Yes," cried Remington, "first of all, myself as a coward!" + </p> + <p> + "All right. Next, then, your Uncle Martin Jaffry, who was earnestly trying + to help you in the only way he knew how to help! Why, George, that would + be——" "That would be the least I could do to let the people + see——" + </p> + <p> + "To let the people see that Mrs. Brewster-Smith and all your social + friends in this town are associated with Mike the Goat and his gang——" + </p> + <p> + Before Evans could finish, his partner stopped him. + </p> + <p> + "Yes, yes—the whole damned system of greed! The rich greed and the + poor greed—our criminal classes plotting to keep justice from the + decent law-abiding people of the place, who are led like sheep to the + slaughter. What did the owners pay that money for? Not for the dirty job + that was turned—not primarily. But to elect me, because they thought + I would not enforce the factory laws and the housing laws and would + protect them in their larceny! That money Uncle Martin collected was my + price—my price!" + </p> + <p> + He was standing before his friends, rigid and white in rage. Neither man + answered him. + </p> + <p> + "And because the moral sense of the community was in the hearts and heads + of the women of the community," he went on, "those who are upholding the + immoral compact between business and politics had to attack the womanhood + of the town—and Genevieve's peril is my share in the shame. By God, + I'm through!" + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. BY MARY AUSTIN + </h2> + <p> + Close on Young Remington's groan of utter disillusionment came a sound + from the street, formless and clumsy, but brought to a sharp climax with + the crash of breaking glass. + </p> + <p> + Even through the closed window which Penfield Evans hastily threw up, + there was an obvious quality to the disturbance which revealed its + character even before they had grasped its import. + </p> + <p> + The street was still full of morning shadows, with here and there a + dancing glimmer on the cobbles of the still level sun, caught on swinging + dinner pails as the loosely assorted crowd drifted toward shop and + factory. + </p> + <p> + In many of the windows half-drawn blinds marked where spruce window + trimmers added last touches to masterpieces created overnight, but + directly opposite nothing screened the offense of the Voiceless Speech, + which continued to display its accusing questions to the passer-by. + </p> + <p> + Clean through the plate-glass front a stone had crashed, leaving a heap of + shining splinters, on either side of which a score of men and boys loosely + clustered, while further down a ripple of disturbance marked where the + thrower of the stone had just vanished into some recognized port of + safety. + </p> + <p> + It was a clumsy crowd, half-hearted, moved chiefly by a cruel delight in + destruction for its own sake, and giving voice at intervals to coarse + comment of which the wittiest penetrated through a stream of profanity, + like one of those same splinters of glass, to the consciousness of at + least two of the three men who hung listening in the window above: + </p> + <p> + "To hell with the——suffragists!" + </p> + <p> + At the same moment another stone hurled through the break sent the + Voiceless Speech toppling; it lay crumpled in a pathetic feminine sort of + heap, subject to ribald laughter, but Penny Evans' involuntary cry of + protest was cut off by his partner's hand on his shoulder. "They're + Noonan's men, Penny; it's a put-up job." + </p> + <p> + George had marked some of the crowd at the meetings Noonan had arranged + for him, and the last touch to the perfunctory character of the + disturbance was added by the leisurely stroll of the policeman turning in + at the head of the street. Before he reached the crowd it had redissolved + into the rapidly filling thoroughfare. + </p> + <p> + "It's no use, Penny. Our women have seen the light and beaten us to it; + we've got to go with them or with Noonan and his—Mike the Goat!" + </p> + <p> + Recollection of his wife's plight cut him like a knife. "The + Brewster-Smith women have got to choose for themselves!" He felt about for + his hat like a man blind with purpose. + </p> + <p> + The street sweeper was taking up the fragments of the shattered windows + half an hour later, when Martin Jaffry found himself going rather + aimlessly along Main Street with a feeling that the bottom had recently + dropped out of things—a sensation which, if the truth must be told, + was greatly augmented by the fact that he hadn't yet breakfasted. He had + remained behind the two younger men to get into communication with Betty + Sheridan and ask her to stay close to the telephone in case Miss Eliot + should again attempt to get into touch with her. He lingered still, + dreading to go into any of the places where he was known lest he should + somehow be led to commit himself embarrassingly on the subject of his + nephew's candidacy. + </p> + <p> + His middle-aged jauntiness considerably awry, he moved slowly down the + heedless street, subject to the most gloomy reflections. Like most men, + Martin Jaffry had always been dimly aware that the fabric of society is + held together by a system of mutual weaknesses and condonings, but he had + always thought of himself and his own family as moving freely in the + interstices, peculiarly exempt, under Providence, from strain. Now here + they were, in such a position that the first stumbling foot might tighten + them all into inextricable scandal. + </p> + <p> + It is true that Penny, at the last moment, had prevailed on George to put + off the relief of his feelings by public repudiation of his political + connections, at least until after a conference with the police. And to + George's fear that the newspapers would get the news from the police + before he had had a chance to repudiate, he had countered with a + suggestion, drawn from an item in the private history of the chief—known + to him through his father's business—which he felt certain would + quicken the chief's sense of the propriety of keeping George's predicament + from the press. + </p> + <p> + "My God!" said George in amazement, and Martin Jaffry had responded + fervently with "O Lord!" + </p> + <p> + Not because it shocked him to think that there might be indiscretions + known to the lawyer of a chief of police which the chief might not wish + known to the world, but because, with the addition of this new coil to his + nephew's affairs, he was suddenly struck with the possibility of still + other coils in any one of which the saving element of indiscretion might + be wanting. + </p> + <p> + Suppose they should come upon one, just one impregnable honesty, one soul + whom the fear of exposure left unshaken. On such a possibility rested the + exemption of the Jaffry-Remingtons. It was the reference to E. Eliot in + his instructions to Betty which had awakened in Jaffry's mind the + disquieting reflection that just here might prove such an impregnability. + They probably wouldn't be able to "do anything" with E. Eliot simply + because she herself had never done anything she was afraid to go to the + public about. To do him justice, it never occurred to him that in the case + of a lady it was easily possible to invent something which would be made + to answer in place of an indiscretion. + </p> + <p> + Probably that was Martin Jaffry's own impregnability—that he + wouldn't have lied about a lady to save himself. What he did conclude was + that it was just this unbending quality of women, this failure to provide + the saving weakness, which unfitted them for political life. + </p> + <p> + He shuddered, seeing the whole fabric of politics fall in ruins around an + electorate composed largely of E. Eliots, feeling himself stripped of + everything that had so far distinguished him from the Noonans and the + Doolittles. + </p> + <p> + Out of his sudden need for reinstatement with himself, he raised in his + mind the vision of woman as the men of Martin Jaffry's world conceived her—a + tender, enveloping medium in which male complacency, unchecked by any + breath of criticism, reaches its perfect flower—the flower whose + fruit, eaten in secret and afar from the soil which nourishes it, is + graft, corruption and civic incompetence. + </p> + <p> + Instinctively his need directed him toward the Remington place. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Brewster-Smith was glad to see him. Between George's hurried + departure and Jaffry's return several of the specters that haunt such + women's lives looked boldly in at the window. + </p> + <p> + There was the specter of scandal, as it touched the Remingtons, touching + that dearest purchase of femininity, social standing; there was the + specter of poverty, which threatened from the exposure of the source of + her income and the enforcement of the law; nearer and quite as poignant, + was the specter of an ignominious retreat from the comfort of George + Remington's house to her former lodging, which she was shrewd enough to + realize would follow close on the return of her cousin's wife. + </p> + <p> + All morning she had beaten off the invisible host with that courage—worthy + of a better cause—with which women of her class confront the + assaults of reality; and the sight of Martin Jaffry coming up the broad + front walk met her like a warm waft of security. She flung open the door + and met him with just that mixture of deference and relief which the + situation demanded. + </p> + <p> + She was terribly anxious about poor Geneviève, of course, but not so + anxious that she couldn't perceive how Genevieve's poor uncle had + suffered. + </p> + <p> + "What, no breakfast! Oh, you poor man! Come right out into the + dining-room." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Brewster-Smith might have her limitations, but she was entirely aware + of the appeasing effect of an open fire and a spread cloth even when no + meal is in sight; she was adept in the art of enveloping tenderness and + the extent to which it may be augmented by the pleasing aroma of ham and + eggs and the coffee which she made herself. And oh, those <i>poor</i> + women, what <i>disaster</i> they were bringing on themselves by their + prying into things that were better left to more competent minds, and what + pain to <i>other</i> minds! So <i>selfish</i>, but of course they didn't + realize. Really she hoped it would be a lesson to Geneviève. The dear girl + was so changed that she didn't see how she was going to go on living with + her; though, of course, she would like to stand by dear George—and a + woman did so appreciate a home! + </p> + <p> + At this point the enveloping tenderness of Mrs. Brewster-Smith + concentrated in her fine eyes, just brushed the heart of her listener as + with a passing wing, hovered a moment, and dropped demurely to the + tablecloth. + </p> + <p> + In the meantime two sorely perplexed citizens were grappling with the + problem of the disappearance of two highly respectable women from their + homes under circumstances calculated to give the greatest anxiety to + faithful "party" men. It hadn't needed Penny's professional acquaintance + with Chief Buckley to impress the need of secrecy on that official's soul. + "Squeal" on Noonan or Mike the Goat? Not if he knew himself. Naturally Mr. + Remington must have his wife, but at the same time it was important to + proceed regularly. + </p> + <p> + "And the day before election, too!" mourned the chief. "Lord, what a mess! + But keep cool, Mr. Remington; this will come out all right!" + </p> + <p> + After half an hour of such ineptitudes, Penfield Evans found it necessary + to withdraw his partner from the vicinity of the police before his + impatience reached the homicidal pitch. + </p> + <p> + "Buckley's no such fool as he sounds," Penny advised. "He probably has a + pretty good idea where the women are hidden, but you must give him time to + tip off Mike for a getaway." + </p> + <p> + But the suggestion proved ill chosen, at least so far as it involved a + hope of keeping George from the newspapers. Shocked to the core of his + young egotism as he had been, Remington was yet not so shocked that the + need of expression was not stronger in him than any more distant + consideration. + </p> + <p> + "Getaway!" he frothed. "Getaway! While a woman like my wife—" But + the bare idea was too much for him. + </p> + <p> + "They may get away, but they'll not get off—not a damned one of them—of + <i>us</i>," he corrected himself, and with face working the popular young + candidate for district attorney set off almost on a run for the office of + the Sentinel. + </p> + <p> + Reflecting that if his friend was bent upon official suicide, there was + still no reason for his being, a witness to it, Penny turned aside into a + telephone booth and called up Betty Sheridan. He heard her jump at the + sound of his voice, and the rising breath of relief running into his name. + </p> + <p> + "O-o-oh, Penny! Yes, about twenty minutes ago. Geneviève is with her.... + Oh, yes, I'm sure." + </p> + <p> + Her voice sounded strong and confident. + </p> + <p> + "They're in a house about an hour from the factory," she went on, "among + some trees. I'm sure she said trees. We were cut off. No, I couldn't get + her again.... Yes... it's a party line. In the Redfield district. Oh, + Penny, do you think they'll do her any harm?" + </p> + <p> + It was, no doubt, the length of time it took to assure Miss Sheridan on + this point that prevented Evans from getting around to the <i>Sentinel</i>, + whose editor was at that moment giving an excellent exhibition of + indecision between his obligation as a journalist and his rôle of leading + citizen in a town where he met his subscribers at dinner. + </p> + <p> + It was good stuff—oh, it was good! What headlines! + </p> + <p> + PROMINENT SOCIETY WOMEN KIDNAPPED CANDIDATE REMINGTON REPUDIATES PARTY! + </p> + <p> + It was good for a double evening edition. On the other hand, there was + Norton, one of his largest advertisers. There was also the rival city of + Hamilton, which was even now basely attempting to win away from Whitewater + a recently offered Carnegie library on the ground of its superior fitness. + </p> + <p> + Finally there was the party. + </p> + <p> + The <i>Sentinel</i> had always been a sound party organ. But <i>what</i> a + scoop! And suppose it were possible to save the party at the expense of + its worst element? Suppose they raised the cry of reform and brought + Remington in on a full tide of public indignation? + </p> + <p> + Would Mike stand the gaff? If it were made worth his while. But what about + Noonan and Doolittle? So the editorial mind shuttled to and fro amid the + confused outpourings of the amazed young candidate, while with eyes bright + and considering as a rat's the editor followed Remington in his pacings up + and down the dusty, littered room. + </p> + <p> + Completely occupied with his own reactions, George's repudiation swept on + in an angry, rapid stream which, as it spent itself, began to give place + to the benumbing consciousness of a divided hearing. + </p> + <p> + Until this moment Remington had had a pleasant sense of the press as a + fine instrument upon which he had played with increasing mastery, a + trumpet upon which, as his mind filled with commendable purposes, he could + blow a very pretty tune,—a noble tune with now and then a graceful + flourish acceptable to the public ear. Now as he talked he began to be + aware of flatness, of squeaking keys.... + </p> + <p> + "Naturally, Mr. Remington, I'll have to take this up with the business + management..." dry-lipped, the tune sputtered out. At this juncture the + born journalist awaked again in the editorial breast at the entrance of + Penfield Evans with his new item of Betty's interrupted message. + </p> + <p> + Two women shut up in a mysterious house among the trees! Oh, hot stuff, + indeed! + </p> + <p> + Under it George rallied, recovered a little of the candidate's manner. + </p> + <p> + "Understand," he insisted. "This goes in even if I have to pay for it at + advertising rates." + </p> + <p> + A swift pencil raced across the paper as Remington's partner swept him off + again to the police. + </p> + <p> + Betty's call had come a few minutes before ten. What had happened was very + simple. + </p> + <p> + The two women had been given breakfast, for which their hands had been + momentarily freed. When the bonds had been tied again it had been easy for + E. Eliot to hold her hands in such a position that she was left, when + their keeper withdrew, with a little freedom of movement. + </p> + <p> + By backing up to the knob she had been able to open a door into an + adjoining room, in which she had been able to make out a telephone on a + stand against the wall. + </p> + <p> + This room also had locked windows and closed shutters, but her quick wit + had enabled her to make use of that telephone. + </p> + <p> + Shouldering the receiver out of the hook, she had called Betty's number, + and, with Geneviève stooping to listen at the dangling receiver, had + called out two or three broken sentences. + </p> + <p> + Guarded as their voices had been, however, some one in the house had been + attracted by them, and the wire had been cut at some point outside the + room. E. Eliot and Geneviève came to this conclusion after having lost + Betty and failed to raise any answer to their repeated calls. Somebody + came and looked in at them through the half-open door, and, seeing them + still bound, had gone away again with a short, contemptuous laugh. + </p> + <p> + "No matter," said E. Eliot. "Betty heard us, and the central office will + be able to trace the call." + </p> + <p> + It was because she could depend on Betty's intelligence, she went on to + say, that she had called her instead of the Remington house—for + suppose that fool Brewster-Smith woman had come to the telephone! + </p> + <p> + She and Geneviève occupied themselves with their bonds, fumbling back to + back for a while, until Geneviève had a brilliant idea. Kneeling, she bit + at the cords which held Miss Eliot's wrists until they began to give. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + What Betty had done intelligently was nothing to what she had done without + meaning it. She had been unkind to Pudge. Young Sheridan was in a + condition which, according to his own way of looking at it, demanded the + utmost kindness. + </p> + <p> + Following a too free indulgence in <i>marrons glacés</i> he had been + relegated to a diet that reduced him to the extremity of desperation. + </p> + <p> + Not only had he been forbidden to eat sweets, but while his soul still + longed for its accustomed solace, his stomach refused it, and he was + unable to eat a box of candied fruit which he had with the greatest + ingenuity secured. + </p> + <p> + And that was the occasion Betty took—herself full of nervous starts + and mysterious recourse to the telephone behind locked doors—to + remind him cruelly that he was getting flabby from staying too much in the + house and to recommend a long walk for his good. + </p> + <p> + It was plain that she would stick at nothing to get her brother out of the + way, and Pudge was cut to the heart. + </p> + <p> + Oh, well, he would go for a walk, from which he would probably be brought + home a limp and helpless cripple. Come to think of it, if he once got + started to walk he was not sure he would ever turn back; he would just + walk on and on into a kinder environment than this. + </p> + <p> + After all, it is impossible to walk in that fateful way in a crowded city + thoroughfare. Besides, one passes so many confectioners with their mingled + temptation and disgust. Pudge rode on the trolley as far as the city + limits. Here there was softer ground underfoot and a hint of melancholy in + the fields. A flock of crows going over gave the appropriate note. + </p> + <p> + Off there to the left, set back from the road among dark, crowding trees, + stood a mysterious house. Pudge always insisted that he had known it for + mysterious at the first glance. It had a mansard roof and shutters of a + sickly green, all closed; there was not a sign of life about, but smoke + issued from one of the chimneys. + </p> + <p> + Here was an item potent to raise the sleuth that slumbers in every boy, + even in such well-cushioned bosoms as Pudge Sheridan's. + </p> + <p> + He paused in his walk, fell into an elaborately careless slouch, and + tacked across the open country toward the back of the house. Here he + discovered a considerable yard fenced with high boards that had once been + painted the same sickly green as the shutters, and a great buckeye tree + just outside, spreading its branches over the corner furthest from the + house. + </p> + <p> + Toward this post of observation he was drifting with that fine assumption + of aimlessness which can be managed on occasion by almost any boy, when he + was arrested by a slight but unmistakable shaking of one of the shutters, + as though some one from within were trying the fastenings. + </p> + <p> + The shaking stopped after a moment, and then, one after another, the slats + of the double leaves were seen to turn and close as though for a secret + survey of the field. After a moment or two this performance was repeated + at the next window on the left, and finally at a third. + </p> + <p> + Here the shaking was resumed after the survey, and ended with the shutter + opening with a snap and being caught back from within and held cautiously + on the crack. Pudge kicked clods in his path and was pretentiously + occupied with a dead beetle which he had picked up. + </p> + <p> + All at once something flickered across the ground at his feet, swung two + or three times, touched his shoe, traveled up the length of his trousers + and rested on his breast. How that bosom leaped to the adventure! + </p> + <p> + He fished hurriedly in his pocket and brought up a small round mirror. It + had still attached to its rim a bit of the ribbon by which it had been + fastened to his sister's shopping bag, from which, if the truth must be + told, he had surreptitiously detached it. + </p> + <p> + Pretending to consult it, as though it were some sort of pocket oracle, + Pudge flashed back, and presently had the satisfaction of seeing a bright + fleck of light travel across the shutter. Immediately there was a + responsive flicker from the window: one, two, three, he counted, and + flashed back: one, two, three. + </p> + <p> + Pudge's whole being was suffused with delicious thrills. He wished now he + had obeyed that oft-experienced presentiment and learned the Morse code; + it was a thing no man destined for adventure should be without. This + wordless interchange went on for a few moments, and then a hand, a woman's + hand—O fair, imprisoned ladies of all time!—appeared + cautiously at the open shutter, waved and pointed. + </p> + <p> + It pointed toward the buckeye tree. Pudge threw a stone in that direction + and sauntered after it, pitching and throwing. Once at the corner, after a + suitable exhibition of casualness, he climbed until he found himself + higher than the fence, facing the house. + </p> + <p> + While he was thus occupied, things had been happening there. The shutter + had been thrown back and a woman was climbing down by the help of a window + ledge below and a pair of knotted window curtains. + </p> + <p> + Another woman prepared to follow her, gesticulating forcibly to the other + not to wait, but to run. Run she did, but it was not until Pudge, lying + full length on the buckeye bough, reached her a hand that he discovered + her to be his sister's friend, Geneviève Remington. + </p> + <p> + In the interval of her scrambling up by the aid of the bent bough and such + help as he could give her, they had neglected to observe the other woman. + Now, as Mrs. Remington's heels drummed on the outside of the fence, Pudge + was aware of some commotion in the direction of the house, and saw Miss + Eliot running toward him, crying: "Run, run!" while two men pursued her. + She made a desperate jump toward the tree, caught the branch, hung for a + moment, lost her hold, and brought Pudge ignominiously down in a heap + beside her. + </p> + <p> + If Miss Eliot had not contradicted it, Pudge would have believed to his + dying day that bullets hurtled through the air; it was so necessary to the + dramatic character of the adventure that there should be bullets. He + recovered from the shock of his fall in time to hear Miss Eliot say: + "Better not touch me, Mike; if there's so much as a bruise when my friends + find me, you'll get sent up for it." + </p> + <p> + Her cool, even tones cut the man's stream of profanity like a knife. He + came threateningly close to her, but refrained from laying hands on either + of them. + </p> + <p> + Meantime his companion drew himself up to the top of the fence for a look + over, and dropped back with a gesture intended to be reassuring. Pudge + rose gloriously to the occasion. + </p> + <p> + "The others have gone back to call the police," he announced. Mike spat + out an oath at him, but it was easy to see that he was not at all sure + that this might not be the case. The possibility that it might be, checked + a movement to pursue the fleeing Geneviève. Miss Eliot caught their + indecision with a flying shaft. + </p> + <p> + "Mrs. George Remington," she said, "will probably be in communication with + her friends very shortly. And between his wife and his old and dear friend + Mike it won't take George Remington long to choose." + </p> + <p> + This was so obvious that it left the men nothing to say. They fell in + surlily on either side of her, and without any show of resistance she + walked calmly back toward the house. Pudge lingered, uncertain of his cue. + </p> + <p> + "Beat it, you putty-face!" Mike snarled at him, showing a yellow fang. "If + you ain't off the premises in about two shakes, you'll get what's comin' + to you. See?" + </p> + <p> + Pudge walked with as much dignity as he could muster in the direction of + the public road. He could see nothing of Mrs. Remington in either + direction; now and then a private motor whizzed by, but there was no other + house near enough to suggest a possibility of calling for help. + </p> + <p> + He concealed himself in a group of black locusts and waited. In about half + an hour he heard a car coming from the house with the mansard roof, and + saw that it held three occupants, two men and a woman. The men he + recognized, and he was certain that the woman, though she was well bundled + up, was not E. Eliot. + </p> + <p> + The motor turned away from the town and disappeared in the opposite + direction. Pudge surmised that Mike was making his getaway. He waited + another half hour and began to be assailed by the pangs of hunger. The + house gave no sign; even the smoke from the chimney stopped. + </p> + <p> + He was sure Miss Eliot was still there; imagination pictured her weltering + in her own gore. Between fear and curiosity and the saving hope that there + might be food of some sort in the house, Pudge left his hiding place and + began a stealthy approach. + </p> + <p> + He came to the low stoop and crept up to the closed front door. Hovering + between fear and courage, he knocked. But there was no response. With + growing boldness he tried the door. It was locked. + </p> + <p> + The rear door also was bolted; but, creeping on, he found a high side + window that the keepers of this prison in their hasty flight had forgotten + to close. With the aid of an empty rain barrel, which he overturned and + rolled into position, Pudge scrambled with much hard breathing through the + window and dropped into the kitchen. Here he listened; his ears could + discern no sound. On tiptoe he crept through the rooms of the first floor—but + came upon neither furtive enemy nor imprisoned friend. Up the narrow + stairway he crept—peeped into three bedrooms—and finally + opening the door of what was evidently a storeroom, he found the object of + his search. + </p> + <p> + E. Eliot sat in an old splint-bottomed chair—gagged, arms tied + behind her and to the chair's back, and her ankles tied to the chair's + legs. In a moment Pudge had the knotted towel out of her mouth, and had + cut her bonds. But quick though Pudge was, to her he seemed intolerably + slow; just then E. Eliot was thinking of only one thing. + </p> + <p> + This was the final afternoon of the campaign and she was away out here, + far from all the great things that might be going on. + </p> + <p> + She gave a single stretch of her cramped muscles as she rose. "I know you—you're + Betty Sheridan's brother—thanks," she said briskly. "What time is + it?" + </p> + <p> + Pudge drew out his most esteemed possession, a watch which kept perfect + time—except when it refused to keep any time at all. + </p> + <p> + "Three o'clock," he announced. + </p> + <p> + "Then our last demonstration is under way, and when I tell my story—" + E. Eliot interrupted herself. "Come on—let's catch the trolley!" + </p> + <p> + With Pudge panting after her, she hurried downstairs, unbolted the door, + and, running lightly on the balls of her feet, sped in the direction of + the street car line. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV. BY LEROY SCOTT + </h2> + <p> + In the meantime, concern and suspense and irruptive wrath had their chief + abode in the inner room of Remington and Evans. George had received a + request, through Penny Evans, from the chief of police to remain in his + office, where he could be reached instantly if information concerning + Geneviève were received, and where his help could instantly be secured + were it required; and Penny had enlarged that request to the magnitude of + a command and had stood by to see that it was obeyed, and himself to give + assistance. + </p> + <p> + George had recognized the sense of the order, but he rebelled at the + enforced inactivity. Where was Geneviève?—why wasn't he out doing + something for her? He strode about the office, fuming, sick with the + suspense and inaction of his rôle. + </p> + <p> + But Geneviève was not his unbroken concern. He was still afire with the + high resentment which a few hours earlier had made him go striding into + the office of the <i>Sentinel</i>. Fragments of his statement to the + editor leaped into his mind; and as he strode up and down he repeated + phrases silently, but with fierce emphasis of the soul. + </p> + <p> + Now and again he paused at his window and looked down into Main Street. + Below him was a crowd that was growing in size and disorder: the last + afternoon of any campaign in Whitewater was exciting enough; much more so + were the final hours of this campaign that marked the first entrance of + women into politics in Whitewater on a scale and with an organized energy + that might affect the outcome of the morrow's voting. + </p> + <p> + Across the way, Mrs. Herrington, the fighting blood of five generations of + patriots roused in her, had reinstated the Voiceless Speech within the + plate-glass window broken by the stones of that morning and was herself + operating it; and, armed with banners, groups of women from the Woman's + Club, the Municipal League and the Suffrage Society were marching up and + down the street sidewalks. It was their final demonstration, their last + chance to assert the demands of good citizenship—and it had + attracted hundreds of curious men, vote-owners, belonging to what, in such + periods of political struggle, are referred to on platforms as "our better + element." + </p> + <p> + Also drifting into Main Street were groups of voters of less prepossessing + aspect—Noonan's men, George recognized them to be. These jeered and + jostled the marching women and hooted the remarks of the Voiceless Speech—but + the women, disregarding insults and attacks, went on with their silent + campaigning. The feeling was high—and George could see, as Noonan's + men kept drifting into Main Street, that feeling was growing higher. + </p> + <p> + Looking down, George felt an angered exultation. Well, his statement in + the <i>Sentinel</i>, due upon the street almost any moment, would answer + all these and give them something to think about!—a statement which + would make an even greater stir than the declaration which he had issued + those many weeks ago, when, fresh from his honeymoon, he had begun his + campaign for the district attorneyship.—[Illustration: Across the + way, Mrs. Herrington, the fighting blood of five generations of patriots + roused in her, had reinstated the Voiceless Speech.] These people below + certainly had a jolt coming to them! + </p> + <p> + George's impatient and glowering meditations—the hour was then near + four—were broken in upon by several interruptions, which came on him + in quick succession, as though detonated by brief-interval time-fuses. The + first was the entrance of that straw-haired misspeller of his letters who + had succeeded Betty Sheridan as guardian of the outer office. + </p> + <p> + "Mr. Doolittle is here," she announced. "He says he wants to see you." + </p> + <p> + "You tell Mr. Doolittle <i>I</i> don't want to see <i>him</i>!" commanded + the irritated George. + </p> + <p> + But Mr. Benjamin Doolittle was already seeing his candidate. As political + boss of his party, he had little regard for such a formality as being + announced to any person on whom he might call—so he had walked + through the open door. + </p> + <p> + "Well, what d'you want, Doolittle?" George demanded aggressively. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Doolittle's face wore that look of bland solicitude, that unobtrusive + partnership in the misfortune of others, which had made him such an + admirable and prosperous officiant at the last rites of residents of + Whitewater. + </p> + <p> + "I just wanted to ask you, George—" he was beginning in his soft, + lily-of-the-valley voice, when the telephone on George's desk started + ringing. George turned and reached for it, to find that Penny had already + picked up the instrument. + </p> + <p> + "I'll answer it, George.... Hello... Mr. Remington is here, but is busy; + I'll speak for him—I'm Mr. Evans.... What—it's you! Where are + you?... Stay where you are; I'll come right over for you in my car." + </p> + <p> + "Who was that?" demanded George. + </p> + <p> + "Geneviève," Penny said rapidly, seizing his hat, "and I'm going——" + </p> + <p> + "So am I!" exclaimed George. + </p> + <p> + "Not till we've had a little understanding," sharply put in Doolittle, + blocking his way. + </p> + <p> + "Stay here, George," his partner snapped out—"she's perfectly safe—just + a little out of breath—telephoned from a drug store over in the + Red-field district. I'll have her back here in fifteen minutes." And out + Penny dashed, slamming the door. + </p> + <p> + But perhaps it was the straw-haired successor of Betty Sheridan who really + prevented George from plunging after his partner. + </p> + <p> + "You ordered the <i>Sentinel</i> sent up as soon as it was out," she said. + "Here are six copies." + </p> + <p> + George seized the ink-damp papers, and as the straw-haired one walked out + in rubber-heeled silence he turned savagely upon his campaign manager. + </p> + <p> + "Well, Doolittle?" he demanded. + </p> + <p> + "I just want to ask you, George——" + </p> + <p> + George exploded. "Oh, you just want to ask me! Well, everything you want + to ask me is answered in that paper. Read it!" + </p> + <p> + Doolittle took the copy of the <i>Sentinel</i> which was thrust into his + hands. George watched him with triumphant grimness, awaiting the effect of + the bomb about to explode in the other's face. Mr. Doolittle unfolded the + <i>Sentinel</i>—looked it slowly through—then raised his eyes + to George. His face seemed somewhat puzzled, but otherwise it was + overspread with that sympathetic concern which, as much as his hearse and + his folding-chairs, was a part of his professional equipment. + </p> + <p> + "Why, George. I don't just get what you're driving at." + </p> + <p> + Forgetting that he was holding several copies of the Sentinel, George + dropped them all upon the floor and seized the paper from Mr. Doolittle. + He glanced swiftly over the first page—and experienced the highest + voltage shock of his young public career. Feverishly he skimmed the + remaining pages. But of all that he had poured out in the office of the <i>Sentinel</i>, + not one word was in print. + </p> + <p> + Automatically clutching the paper in a hand that fell to his side, he + stared blankly at his campaign manager. Mr. Doolittle gazed back with his + air of sympathetic concern, bewildered questioning in his eyes. And for a + space, despite the increasing uproar down in the street, there was a most + perfect silence in the inner office of Remington and Evans. + </p> + <p> + Before either of the two men could speak, the door was violently flung + open and Martin Jaffry appeared. His clothing was disarranged, his manner + agitated—in striking contrast to the dapper and composed appearance + usual to that middle-aged little gentleman. + </p> + <p> + "George," he panted, "heard anything about Geneviève?" + </p> + <p> + "She's safe. Penny's got charge of her by this time." + </p> + <p> + His answer was almost mechanical. + </p> + <p> + "Thank God!" Uncle Martin collapsed in one of the office chairs. "Mind—if + sit here minute—get my breath." + </p> + <p> + George did not reply, for he had not heard. He was gazing steadily at Mr. + Doolittle; some great, but as yet shapeless, force was surging up dazingly + within him. But he somehow held himself in control. + </p> + <p> + "Well, Doolittle," he demanded, "you said you came to ask something." + </p> + <p> + Mr. Doolittle's manner was still propitiatingly bland. "I'll mention + something else first, George, if you don't mind. You just remarked I'd + find your answer in the <i>Sentinel</i>. There must 'a' been some little + slip-up somewhere. So I guess I better mention first that the <i>Sentinel</i> + has arranged to stand ready to get out an extra." + </p> + <p> + "An extra! What for?" + </p> + <p> + "Principally, George, I reckon to print those answers you just spoke of." + </p> + <p> + George still kept that mounting something under his control. "Answers to + what?" + </p> + <p> + "Why, George," the other replied softly, persuasively. "I guess we'd + better have a little chat—as man to man—about politics. + Meaning no offense, George, stalling is all right in politics—but + this time you've carried this stalling act a little too far. As the result + of your tactics, George, why here's all this disorder in our streets—and + the afternoon before election. If you'd only really tried to stop these + messing women——" + </p> + <p> + "I didn't try to stop them by kidnapping them!" burst from George—and + Uncle Martin, his breath recovered, now sat up, clutching his homespun + cap. + </p> + <p> + "Kidnapping women?" queried the bland, bewildered voice of the party boss. + "I say, George, I don't know what you're talking about." "Why, you—" + But George caught himself. "Speak it out, Doolittle—what do you + want?" + </p> + <p> + "Since you ask it so frankly, George, I'll try to put it plain: You been + going along handing out high-sounding generalities. There's nothing better + and safer than generalities—usually. But this ain't no usual case, + George. These women, stirring everything up, have got the solid interests + so unsettled that they don't know where they're at—or where you're + at. And a lot of boys in the organization feel the same way. What the + crisis needs, George, is a plain statement of your intentions as district + attorney, which we can get into that <i>Sentinel</i> extra and which will + reassure the public—and the organization." + </p> + <p> + "A plain statement?" There was a grim set to George's jaw. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, it needn't go into too many details. Just what you might call a + ringing declaration about this being the greatest era of prosperity + Whitewater has ever known, and that you conceive it to be the duty of your + administration to protect and stimulate this prosperity. The people will + understand, and the organization will understand. I guess you get what I + mean, George." + </p> + <p> + "Yes, I get what you mean!" exploded George, his fist crashing upon the + table. "You mean you want me to be a complacent accessory to all the legal + evasions that you and your political gang and the rich bunch behind you + may want to get away with! You want me to be a crook in office! By God, + Doolittle——" + </p> + <p> + "Shut up, Remington," snapped the political boss, his soft manner now + vanished, his whole aspect now grimly menacing. "I know the rest of what + you're going to say. I was pretty certain what it 'ud be before I came + here, but I had to know for sure. Well, I know now, all right!" + </p> + <p> + His lank jaws snapped again. + </p> + <p> + "Since you are not going to represent the people that put you up, I demand + your written withdrawal as candidate for the district attorney's office." + </p> + <p> + "And I refuse to give it!" cried George. "I was nominated by a convention, + not by you. And I don't believe the party is as crooked as you—anyhow + I'm going to give the decent members of the party a chance to vote + decently! And you can't remove me from the ballot, either, for the ballot + is already printed and——" + </p> + <p> + "That'll do you no——" + </p> + <p> + "I thought some time ago I was through with this political mess," George + drove on. "But, Doolittle, damn you, I've just begun to get in it! And I'm + going to see it through to the finish!" + </p> + <p> + Suddenly a thin little figure thrust itself between the bellicose pair and + began shaking George's hand. It was Martin Jaffry. + </p> + <p> + "George—I guess I'm my share of an old scoundrel—and a trimmer—but + hearing some one stand up and talk man's talk—" He broke off to + shake George's hand again. "I thought you were the king of boobs—but, + boy, I'm with you to wherever you want to go—if my money will last + that far!" + </p> + <p> + "Keep out of this, Jaffry," roughly growled Doolittle. "It's too late for + your dough to help this young pup. Remington, we may not take you off the + ballot, but the organization kin send out word to the boys——" + </p> + <p> + "To knife me! Of course, I expect that! All right—go to it! But I'm + on the ballot—you can't deprive people of the chance of voting for + me. And I shall announce myself an independent and shall run as one!" + </p> + <p> + "We may not be able to elect our own nominee," harshly continued + Doolittle, "but we kin send out word to back the Democratic candidate. + Miller ain't much, but, at least, he's a soft man. And that <i>Sentinel</i> + extra is going to say that a feeling has spread among the respectable + element that it has lost confidence in you, and is going to say that + prominent party members feel the party has made a mistake in ever putting + you up. So run, damn you—run as a Democrat, a Republican, an + Independent—but how are you going to git it across to the public in + a way to do yourself any good—without backing? How are you going to + git it across to the public?" + </p> + <p> + His last words, flung out with overmastering fury, brought George up + short, and he saw this. Doolittle's wrath had mounted to that pitch which + should never be reached by the resentment of a practical politician; it + had attained such force that it drove him on to taunt his man. "How are + you going to git it before the public?" he again demanded, eyes agleam + with triumphant rancor—"with us shutting you off and hammering you + on one side?—and them damned messy women across the street hammering + you from the other side? Oh, it's a grand chance you have—one little + old grand chance! Especially with those dear damned females loving you + like they do! Jest take a look at what the bunch over there are doing to + you!" + </p> + <p> + Doolittle followed his own taunting suggestion; and George, too, glanced + through his window across the crowded street into the shattered window + whence issued the Voiceless Speech. In that jagged frame in the raw + November air still stood Mrs. Harvey Herrington, turning the giant leaves + of her soundless oratory. The heckling request which then struck George's + eyes began: "<i>Will Candidate Remington answer</i>——" + </p> + <p> + George Remington read no more. His already tense figure suddenly + stiffened; he caught a sharp breath. Then, without a word to the two men + with him, he seized his hat and dashed from his office. The street was + even more a turbulent human sea, with violently twisting eddies, than had + appeared from George's windows. It seemed that every member of the + organizations whom Mrs. Herrington (and also Betty Sheridan, and later E. + Eliot, and, at the last, Geneviève) had brought into this fight, were now + downtown for the supreme effort. And it seemed that there were now more of + the so-called "better citizens." Certainly there were more of Noonan's + men, and these were still elbowing and jostling, and making little mass + rushes—yet otherwise holding themselves ominously in control. + </p> + <p> + Into this milling assemblage George flung himself, so dominated by the + fiery urge within him that he did not hear Geneviève call to him from + Penny's car, which just then swung around the corner and came to a sharp + stop on the skirts of the crowd. George shouldered his way irresistibly + through this mass; the methods of his football days when he had been famed + as a line-plunging back instinctively returned—and, all the fine + chivalry forgotten which had given to his initial statement to the voters + of Whitewater so noble a sound, he battered aside many of those "fairest + flowers of our civilization, to protect whom it is man's duty and + inspiration." + </p> + <p> + His lunging progress followed by curses and startled cries of feminine + indignation, he at length emerged upon the opposite sidewalk, and, + breathless and disheveled, he burst into the headquarters of the Voiceless + Speech. + </p> + <p> + Some half-dozen of Mrs. Herrington's assistants cried out at his abrupt + entrance. Mrs. Herrington, forward beside the speech, turned quickly + about. + </p> + <p> + "Mr. Remington, you here!" she cried in amazement as he strode toward her. + "What—what do you want?" + </p> + <p> + "I want—I want—" gasped George. But instead of finishing his + sentence he elbowed Mrs. Herrington out of the way, shoved past her, and + stepped forth in front of the Voiceless Speech. There, standing in the + frame of jagged plate-glass, upon what was equivalent to a platform raised + above the crowd, he sent forth a speech which had a voice. "Ladies and + gentlemen!" he called, raising an imperative hand. The uproar subsided to + numerous exclamations, then to surprised silence; even Noonan's men + checked their disorder at this appearance of their party's candidate. + </p> + <p> + "Ladies and gentlemen," and this Voiceful Speech was loud,—"I'm here + to answer the questions of this contrivance behind me. But first let me + tell you that though I'm on the ballot as the candidate of the Republican + party, I do not want the backing of the Republican machine. I'm running as + an Independent, and I shall act as an Independent. + </p> + <p> + "Here are my answers: + </p> + <p> + "I want to tell you that I shall enforce all the factory laws. + </p> + <p> + "I want to tell you that I shall enforce the laws governing housing + conditions—particularly housing conditions in the factory district. + </p> + <p> + "I want to tell you that I shall enforce the laws governing child labor + and the laws governing the labor of women. + </p> + <p> + "And I want to tell you that I shall enforce every other law, and shall + try to secure the passage of further laws, which will make Whitewater a + clean, forward-looking city, whose first consideration shall be the + welfare of all. + </p> + <p> + "And, ladies and gentlemen—" he shouted, for the hushed voices had + begun to rise—"I wish I could address you all as fellow-voters!—I + want to tell you that I take back that foolish statement I made at the + opening of the campaign. + </p> + <p> + "I want to tell you that I stand for, and shall fight for, equal suffrage! + </p> + <p> + "And I want to tell you that what has brought this change is what some of + the women of White-water have shown me—and also some of the things + our men politicians have done—our Doolittles, our Noonans——" + </p> + <p> + But George's speech terminated right there. Noise there had been before; + now there burst out an uproar, and there came an artillery attack of eggs, + vegetables, stones and bricks. One of the bricks struck George on the + shoulder and drove him staggering back against the Voiceless Speech, + sending that instrument of silent argument crashing to the floor. + Regaining his balance, George started furiously back for the window; but + Mrs. Herrington caught his arm. + </p> + <p> + "Let me go!" he called, trying to shake her off. + </p> + <p> + But she held on. "Don't—you've said enough!" she cried, and pulled + him toward the rear of the room. "Look!" + </p> + <p> + Through the window was coming a heavier fire of impromptu grenades that + rolled, spent, at their feet. But what they saw without was far more + stirring and important. Noonan's men in the crowd, their hoodlumism now + unleashed, were bowling over the people about them; but these really + constituted Noonan's outposts and advance guards. + </p> + <p> + From out of two side streets, though George and Mrs. Herrington could not + see their first appearance upon the scene, Noonan's real army now came + charging into Main Street, as per that gentleman's grim instructions to + "show them messin' women what it means to mess in politics." Hundreds of + Whitewater's women were flung about, many sent sprawling to the pavement, + and some hundreds of the city's most respectable voters, caught unawares, + were hustled about and knocked down by the same ruthless drive. + </p> + <p> + "My God!" cried George, impulsively starting forward. "The damned brutes!" + </p> + <p> + But Mrs. Herrington still held his arm. "Come on—they're making a + drive for this office!" breathlessly cried the quick-minded lady. "You can + do no good here. Out the rear way—my car's waiting in the back + street." + </p> + <p> + Still clutching his sleeve, Mrs. Herrington opened a door and ran across + the back yard of McMonigal's building in a manner which indicated that + that lady had not spent her college years (and similarly spent the years + since then propped among embroidered cushions consuming marshmallows and + fudge.) + </p> + <p> + The lot crossed, she hurried through a little grocery and thence into the + street. Here they ran into a party that, seeing the riot on Main Street + and the drive upon the window from which George had spoken, had rushed up + reinforcements from the rear—a party consisting of Penny, E. Eliot, + Betty Sheridan and Geneviève. "Geneviève!" cried George, and caught her + into his arms. + </p> + <p> + "Oh, George," she choked. "I—I heard it all—and it—it + was simply wonderful!" + </p> + <p> + "George," cried Betty Sheridan, "I always knew, if you got the right kind + of a jolt, you'd be—you'd be what you are!" + </p> + <p> + E. Eliot gripped his hand in a clasp almost as strong as George's arm. + "Mr. Remington, if I were a man, I'd like to have the same sort of stuff + in me." + </p> + <p> + "George, you old roughneck—" began Penny. + </p> + <p> + "George," interrupted Geneviève, still chokingly, her protective, wifely + instinct now at the fore, "I saw you hit, and we're going to take you + straight home——" + </p> + <p> + "Cut it all out," interrupted the cultured Mrs. Herrington. "This isn't + Mr. Remington's honeymoon—nor his college reunion—nor the + annual convention of his maiden aunts. This is Mr. Remington's campaign, + and I'm his new campaign manager. And his campaign manager says he's not + going away out to his home on Sheridan Road. His campaign headquarters are + going to be in the center of town, at the Commercial Hotel, where he can + be reached—for there's quick work ahead of us. Come on." + </p> + <p> + Five minutes later they were all in the Commercial Hotel's best suite. + </p> + <p> + "Now, to business, Mr. Remington," briskly began Mrs. Herrington. "Of + course, that was a good speech. But why, in heaven's name, didn't you come + out with it before?" + </p> + <p> + "I guess I really didn't know where I stood until today," confessed + George, "and today I tried to come out with it." + </p> + <p> + And George went on to recount his experience with the <i>Sentinel</i>—his + scene with Doolittle—and Doolittle's plan for an extra of the + Sentinel, which was doubtless then in preparation. + </p> + <p> + "So they've got the <i>Sentinel</i> muzzled, have they—and are going + to get out an extra repudiating you," Mrs. Herrington repeated. There came + a flash into her quick, dark eyes. "I want our candidate to stay right + here—rest up—get his thoughts in order. There are a lot of + things to be done. I'll be back in an hour, Mr. Remington. The rest of you + come along—you, too, Mrs. Remington." + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Herrington did not altogether keep her word in the matter of time. It + was two hours before she was back. To George she handed a bundle of + papers, remarking: "Thought you'd like to see that <i>Sentinel</i> extra." + </p> + <p> + "I suppose Doolittle has done his worst," he remarked grimly. He glanced + at the paper. His face went loose with bewilderment at what he saw—headlines, + big black headlines, bigger and blacker than he had ever before seen in + the politically and typographically conservative <i>Sentinel</i>. He read + through a few lines of print, then looked up. + </p> + <p> + "Why, it's all here!" he gasped. "The kidnapping of Miss Eliot and + Geneviève by Noonan's men—my break with Doolittle, my denunciation + of the party's methods, my coming out as an independent candidate—that + riot on Main Street! How on earth did that ever get into the <i>Sentinel</i>?" + </p> + <p> + "Some straight talk, and quick talk, and the exercise of a little of the + art of pressure they say you men exercise," was the prompt reply. "I + telephoned Mr. Ledbetter of the <i>Sentinel</i> advising him to hold the + extra Mr. Doolittle had threatened until he heard from Mr. Wesley Norton, + proprietor of the Norton Dry Goods Store. You know, Mr. Norton is the <i>Sentinel</i>'s + largest single advertiser and president of the Whitewater Business Men's + Club. + </p> + <p> + "Then a committee of us women called on Mr. Norton and told him that we'd + organize the women of the city and would carry on a boycott campaign + against his store—we didn't really put it quite as crudely as that—unless + he'd force the <i>Sentinel</i> to stop Mr. Doolittle's lying extra and + print your statement. + </p> + <p> + "Mr. Norton gave in, and telephoned the <i>Sentinel</i> that if it didn't + do as he said he'd cancel his advertising contract. Then, to make sure, we + got hold of Mr. Jaffry, called on Mr. Ledbetter, who called in the + business manager—and your Uncle Martin told them that unless they + printed the truth, and every bit of it, and printed it at once, he was + going to put up the money to start an opposition paper that <i>would print + the truth</i>. That explains the extra 'Well'," ejaculated George, still + staring, "you certainly are a wonder as a campaign manager!" + </p> + <p> + "Oh, I only did my fraction. That Miss Eliot did as much as I—she's + a find—she's going to be one of Whitewater's really big women. And + Betty Sheridan, you can't guess how Betty's worked—and your wife, + Mr. Remington, she's turning out to be a marvel! + </p> + <p> + "But that's not all," Mrs. Herrington continued rapidly. "We bought ten + thousand copies of that extra for ourselves—your uncle paid for them—and + we're going to distribute them in every home in town. When the best + element in Whitewater read how the women were trampled down by Noonan's + mob—well, they'll know how to vote! Mr. Noonan will never guess how + much he has helped us." + </p> + <p> + "You seem to have left nothing for me to do," said George. + </p> + <p> + "You'll find out there'll be all you'll want," replied the brisk Mrs. + Herrington. "We're organizing meetings—one in every hall in the + city, one on almost every other street corner, and we're going to rush you + from one to the next—most of the night—and there'll be no + letup for you tomorrow, even if it is election day. Yes, you'll find + there'll be plenty to do!" + </p> + <p> + The next twenty-four hours were the busiest that George Remington had ever + known in his twenty-six years. + </p> + <p> + But at nine o'clock the next evening it was over—the tumult and the + shouting and the congratulations—and all were gone save only Martin + Jaffry; and District-Attorney-Elect Remington sat in his hotel suite alone + in the bosom of his family. + </p> + <p> + He was still dazed by what had happened to him—at the part he had + unexpectedly played—dazed by the intense but well-ordered activity + of the women: their management of his whirlwind tour of the city; their + organization of parades with amazing swiftness; their rapid and complete + house-to-house canvass—the work of Mrs. Herrington, of Betty, of + that Miss Eliot, of hundreds of women—and especially of Geneviève. + He marveled especially at Geneviève because he had never thought of + Geneviève as doing such things. But she <i>had</i> done them—he felt + that somehow she was a different Geneviève: he didn't know what the + difference was—he was in too much of a whirl for analysis—but + he had an undefined sense of <i>aliveness</i>, of a spirited, joyous + initiative in her. + </p> + <p> + She and all the rest seemed so strange as to be unbelievable. And yet, she—and + all of it—true!... + </p> + <p> + From dramatic events and intangible qualities of the spirit, his + consciousness shifted to material things—his immediate surroundings. + Not till this blessed moment of relaxation did he become aware of the + discomforts of this suite—nor did Geneviève fully appreciate the + flamboyantly flowered maroon wall-paper and the jig-saw furniture. + </p> + <p> + "George,"' she sighed, "now that you're not needed down here, can't we go + home?" + </p> + <p> + "Home!" The word came out half snort, half growl—hardly the tone + becoming one whose triumph was so exultingly fresh. With a jar he had come + back to a present which he fully understood. "Damn home! I haven't any + home!" + </p> + <p> + Geneviève stared. Uncle Martin snickered, for Uncle Martin had the gift of + understanding. + </p> + <p> + "You mean those flowers of womanhood whom chivalrous man——" + </p> + <p> + "Shut up," commanded George. He thought for a brief space; then his jaw + set. "Excuse me a moment." + </p> + <p> + Drawing hotel stationery toward him, he scribbled rapidly and then sealed + and addressed what he had written. + </p> + <p> + "Uncle Martin, your car's outside doing nothing; would you mind going on + ahead and giving this little note to Cousin Alys Brewster-Smith, and then + staying around and having a little supper with Geneviève and me? We'll be + out soon, but there are a few things I want to talk over with Geneviève + alone before we come." + </p> + <p> + Uncle Martin would oblige. But when he had gone, there seemed to be + nothing of pressing importance that George had to communicate to + Geneviève. Nor half an hour later, when he led his bride of four months up + to their home, had he delivered himself of anything which seemed to + require privacy. + </p> + <p> + As they stepped up on the porch, softly lighted by a frosted bulb in its + ceiling, Cousin Emelene, her cat under her arm, came out of the front door + and hurried past them, without speech. + </p> + <p> + "Why, Cousin Emelene!" George called after her. + </p> + <p> + She paused and half turned. + </p> + <p> + "You—you—" she half choked upon expletives that would not come + forth. "The man will come for my trunks in the morning." Thrusting a + handkerchief to her face, she hurried away. + </p> + <p> + "George, what can have happened to her?" cried the amazed Geneviève. + </p> + <p> + But George was saved answering her just then. Another figure had emerged + from the front door—a rather largish figure, all in black—her + left hand clutching the right hand of a child, aged, possibly, five. And + this figure did not cower and hurry away. This figure halted, and + glowered. + </p> + <p> + "George Remington," exclaimed Cousin Alys, "after your invitation—you—you + apostate to chivalry! That outrageous letter! But if I am leaving your + home, thank God I'm leaving it for a home of my own! Come on, Martin!" + </p> + <p> + With that she stalked away, dragging the sleepy Eleanor. + </p> + <p> + Not till then did George and Geneviève become aware that Uncle Martin was + before them, having until now been obscured by Mrs. Brewster-Smith's + outraged amplitude. His arms were loaded with coats, obviously feminine. + </p> + <p> + "Uncle Martin!" exclaimed George. + </p> + <p> + "George," gulped his uncle—"George—" And then he gained + control of a dazed sort of speech. "When I gave her that letter I didn't + know it was a letter of eviction. And the way she broke down before me—a + woman, you know—I—I—well, George, it's my home she's + going to." + </p> + <p> + "You don't mean——" + </p> + <p> + "Yes, George, that's just what I mean. Though, of course, I'm taking her + back now to Mrs. Gallup's boarding-house until—until—good-night, + George; good-night, Geneviève." The little man went staggering down the + walk with his burden of wraps; and after a minute there came the sound of + his six-cylinder roadster buzzing away into the darkness. + </p> + <p> + "I didn't tell 'em they had to go tonight," said George doggedly. "But I + did remark that even if every woman had a right to a home, every woman + didn't have the right to make my home her home. Anyhow," his tone becoming + softer, "I've at last got a home of my own. Our own," he corrected. + </p> + <p> + He took her in his arms. "And, sweetheart—it's a better home than + when we first came to it, for now I've got more sense. Now it is a home in + which each of us has the right to think and be what we please." + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + At just about this same hour just about this same scene was being enacted + upon another front porch in Whitewater—there being the slight + difference that this second porch was not softly illuminated by any + frosted globule of incandescence. Up the three steps leading to this + second porch Mr. Penfield Evans had that moment escorted Miss Elizabeth + Sheridan. + </p> + <p> + "Good-night, Penny," she said. + </p> + <p> + He caught her by her two shoulders. + </p> + <p> + "See here, Betty—the last twenty-four hours have been mighty busy + hours—too busy even to talk about ourselves. But now—see here, + you're not going to get away with any rough work like that. Come across, + now. Will you?" + </p> + <p> + "Will I what?" + </p> + <p> + "Say, how long do you think you're a paid-up subscriber to this little + daily speech of mine?... Well, if I've got to hand you another copy, here + goes. You promised me, on your word of honor, if George swung around for + suffrage, you'd swing around for me. Well, George has come around. Not + that I had much to do with it—but he surely did come around! Now, + the point is, Miss Betty Sheridan, are you a woman of your promise—are + you going to marry me?" + </p> + <p> + "Well, if you try to put it that way, demanding your pound of flesh——" + "One hundred and twenty pounds," corrected Penny. + </p> + <p> + "I'll say that, of course, I don't love you, but I guess a promise is a + promise—and—and—" And suddenly a pair of strong young + arms were flung about the neck of Mr. Penfield Evans. "Oh, I'm so happy, + Penny dear!" + </p> + <p> + "Betty!" + </p> + <p> + After that there was a long silence... silence broken only by that softly + sibilant detonation which belongs most properly to the month of June, but + confines itself to no season... to a long, long silence born of and + blessed by the gods... until one Percival Sheridan, coming stealthily home + from a late debauch at Humphrey's drug store, and mounting the steps in + the tennis sneakers which were his invariable wear on dry and non-state + occasions, bumped into the invisible and unhearing couple. + </p> + <p> + "Say, there—" gasped the startled youth, backing away. + </p> + <p> + Betty gave an affrighted cry—it was a long swift journey down from + where she had just been. Her right hand, reaching drowningly out, fell + upon a familiar shoulder. + </p> + <p> + "It's Pudge!" she cried. "Pudge"—shaking him—"snooping around, + listening and trying to spy——" + </p> + <p> + "You stop that—it ain't so!" protested the outraged Pudge, his + utterance throttled down somewhat by the chocolate cream in his mouth. + </p> + <p> + "Spying on people! And, besides, you've been stuffing yourself with candy + again! You're ruining your stomach with that sticky sweet stuff—you're + headed straight for a candy-fiend's grave. Now, you go upstairs and to + bed!" + </p> + <p> + She jerked him toward the door, opened it, and as he was thrust through + the door Pudge felt something, something warm, press impulsively against a + cheek. Not until the door had closed upon him did he realize what Betty + had done to him. He stood dazed for a moment—unbalanced between + impulses. Then the sturdy maleness of fourteen rewon its dominance. + </p> + <p> + "Guess I know what they was doing, all right—aw, wouldn't it make + you sick!" And, in disgust which another chocolate cream alleviated hardly + at all, he mounted to his bed. + </p> + <p> + Outside there was again silence... faintly disturbed only by that softly + sibilant, almost muted percussion which recalls inevitably the month of + June.... + </p> + <p> + THE END <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Sturdy Oak, by Samuel Merwin, et al. + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STURDY OAK *** + +***** This file should be named 8435-h.htm or 8435-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/8/4/3/8435/ + +Produced by Eric Eldred, David Widger, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Sturdy Oak + A Composite Novel of American Politics by Fourteen American Authors + +Author: Samuel Merwin, et al. + +Editor: Elizabeth Jordan + +Release Date: July, 2005 [EBook #8435] +Posting Date: August 10, 2009 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STURDY OAK *** + + + + +Produced by Eric Eldred, David Widger, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team + + + + + + +THE STURDY OAK + +A COMPOSITE NOVEL OF AMERICAN POLITICS BY FOURTEEN AMERICAN AUTHORS + +By Samuel Merwin, et al. + + +[Illustration] THE STURDY OAK + + +Other Authors: + + SAMUEL MERWIN + HARRY LEON WILSON + FANNIE HURST + DOROTHY CANFIELD + KATHLEEN NORRIS + HENRY KITCHELL WEBSTER + ANNE O'HAGAN + MARY HEATON VORSE + ALICE DUER MILLER + ETHEL WATTS MUMFORD + MARJORIE BENTON COOKE + WILLIAM ALLEN WHITE + MARY AUSTIN + LEROY SCOTT + + +THEME BY MARY AUSTIN + +The chapters collected and (very cautiously) edited by ELIZABETH JORDAN + +NEW YORK HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY 1917 [Blank-copyright info] + + + + + +PREFACE + +At a certain committee meeting held in the spring of 1916, it was agreed +that fourteen leading American authors, known to be extremely generous +as well as gifted, should be asked to write a composite novel. + +As I was not present at this particular meeting, it was unanimously and +joyously decided by those who were present that I should attend to the +trivial details of getting this novel together. + +It appeared that all I had to do was: + +First, to persuade each of the busy authors on the list to write a +chapter of the novel. + +Second, to keep steadily on their trails from the moment they promised +their chapters until they turned them in. + +Third, to have the novel finished and published serially during the +autumn Campaign of 1917. + +The carrying out of these requirements has not been the childish +diversion it may have seemed. Splendid team work, however, has made +success possible. + + +Every author represented, every worker on the team, has gratuitously +contributed his or her services; and every dollar realized by the serial +and book publication of "The Sturdy Oak" will be devoted to the Suffrage +Cause. But the novel itself is first of all a very human story of +American life today. It neither unduly nor unfairly emphasizes the +question of equal suffrage, and it should appeal to all lovers of good +fiction. + +Therefore, pausing only to wipe the beads of perspiration from our +brows, we urge every one to buy this book! + +ELIZABETH JORDAN. + +NEW YORK. + +_November_, 1917. CONTENTS + + + +CHAPTER + + I. BY SAMUEL MERWIN + + II. BY HARRY LEON WILSON + + III. BY FANNIE HURST + + IV. BY DOROTHY CANFIELD + + V. BY KATHLEEN NORRIS + + VI. BY HENRY KITCHELL WEBSTER + + VII. BY ANNE O'HAGAN + + VIII. BY MARY HEATON VORSE + + IX. BY ALICE DUER MILLER + + X. BY ETHEL WATTS MUMFORD + + XI. BY MARJORIE BENTON COOK + + XII. BY WILLIAM ALLEN WHITE + + XIII. BY MARY AUSTIN + + XIV. BY LEROY SCOTT ILLUSTRATIONS + + +"Nobody ever means that a woman really can't get along without a man's +protection, because look at the women who do." + +It was hard on the darling old boy to come home to Miss Emelene and the +cat and Eleanor and Alys every night! + +"You mean because she's a suffragist? You sent her away for _that!_ Why, +really, that's _tyranny!_" + +Across the way, Mrs. Herrington, the fighting blood of five generations +of patriots roused in her, had reinstated the Voiceless Speech. + + + +PRINCIPAL CHARACTERS + +_George Remington_... Aged twenty-six; newly married. Recently returned +to his home town, New York State, to take up the practice of law. +Politically ambitious, a candidate for District Attorney. Opposed to +woman suffrage. + +_Genevieve_... His wife, aged twenty-three, graduate of Smith. Devoted +to George; her ideal being to share his every thought. + +_Betty Sheridan_... A friend of Genevieve. Very pretty; one of the first +families, well-to-do but in search of economic independence. Working as +stenographer in George's office; an ardent Suffragist. + +_Penfield Evans_... Otherwise "Penny," George's partner, in love with +Betty. Neutral on the subject of Suffrage. + +_Alys Brewster-Smith_... Cousin of George, once removed; thirty-three, +a married woman by profession, but temporarily widowed. Anti-suffragist. +One Angel Child aged five. + +_Martin Jaffry_... Uncle to George, bachelor of uncertain age and +certain income. The widow's destined prey. + +_Cousin Emelene_.... On Genevieve's side. Between thirty-five and forty, +a born spinster but clinging to the hope of marriage as the only career +for women. Has a small and decreasing income. Affectedly feminine and +genuinely incompetent. + + +_Mrs. Harvey Herrington_.... President of the Woman's Club, the +Municipal League, Suffrage Society leader, wealthy, cultured and +possessing a sense of humor. + +_Percival Pauncefoot Sheridan_.... Betty's brother, fifteen, commonly +called Pudge. Pink, pudgy, sensitive; always imposed upon, always +grouchy and too good-natured to assert himself. + +_E. Eliot_.... Real estate agent (added in Chapter VI by Henry Kitchell +Webster). + +_Benjamin Doolittle_.... A leader of his party, and somewhat careless +where he leads it. (Added in Anne O'Hagan's Chapter). + +_Patrick Noonan_.... A follower of Doolittle. + +Time.... The Present. + +Place.... Whitewater, N. Y. A manufacturing town of from ten to fifteen +thousand inhabitants. + + + + +THE STURDY OAK + + +CHAPTER I. BY SAMUEL MERWIN + + +Genevieve Remington had been called beautiful. She was tall, with brown +eyes and a fine spun mass of golden-brown hair. She had a gentle smile, +that disclosed white, even teeth. Her voice was not unmusical. She +was twenty-three years old and possessed a husband who, though only +twenty-six, had already shown such strength of character and such +aptitude at the criminal branch of the law that he was now a candidate +for the post of district attorney on the regular Republican ticket. + +The popular impression was that he would be elected hands down. His +address on Alexander Hamilton at the Union League Club banquet at +Hamilton City, twenty-five miles from Whitewater (with which smaller +city we are concerned in this narrative), had been reprinted in full +in the Hamilton City _Tribune_; and Mrs. Brewster-Smith reported that +former Congressman Hancock had compared it, not unfavorably, with +certain public utterances of the Honorable Elihu Root. + +George Remington was an inch more than six feet tall, with sturdy +shoulders, a chin that gave every indication of stubborn strength, a +frank smile, and a warm, strong handclasp. He was connected by blood (as +well as by marriage) with five of the eight best families in Whitewater. +Mr. Martin Jaffry, George's uncle and sole inheritor of the great Jaffry +estate (and a bachelor), was known to favor his candidacy; was supposed, +indeed, to be a large contributor to the Remington campaign fund. In +fact, George Remington was a lucky young man, a coming young man. + +George and Genevieve had been married five weeks; this was their first +day as master and mistress of the old Remington place on Sheridan Road. + +Genevieve, that afternoon, was in the long living-room, trying out +various arrangements of the flowers that had been sent in. There were a +great many flowers. Most of them came from admirers of George. The Young +Men's Republican Club, for one item, had sent eight dozen roses. +But Genevieve, still a-thrill with the magic of her five-weeks-long +honeymoon, tremulously happy in the cumulative proof that her husband +was the noblest, strongest, bravest man alive, felt only joy in his +popularity. + +As his wife she shared his triumphs. "For better or worse, for richer +or poorer, in sickness and health..." the ancient phrases repeated +themselves so many times in her softly confused thought, as she moved +about among the flowers, that they finally took on a rhythm-- + + _"For better or worse, + For richer or poorer, + For richer or poorer, + For better or worse--"_ + + * * * * * + +On this day her life was beginning. She had given herself irrevocably +into the hands of this man. She would live only in him. Her life would +find expression only through his. His strong, trained mind would be her +guide, his sturdy courage her strength. He would build for them both, +for the twain that were one. + +She caught up one red rose, winked the moisture from her eyes, and +gazed--rapt, lips parted, color high--out at the close-clipped lawn +behind the privet hedge. The afternoon would soon be waning--in another +hour or so. She must not disturb him now. + +In an hour, say, she would run up the stairs and tap at his door. And +he would come out, clasp her in his big arms, and she would stand on the +tips of her toes and kiss away the wrinkles between his brows, and they +would walk on the lawn and talk about themselves and the miracle of +their love. + +The clock on the mantel struck three. She pouted; turned and stared at +it. "Well," she told herself, "I'll wait until half-past four." + +The doorbell rang. + +Genevieve's color faded. The slim hand that held the rose trembled a +very little. Her first caller! She decided that it would be best not +to talk about George. Not one word about George! Her feelings were her +secret--and his. + +Marie ushered in two ladies. One, who rushed forward with outstretched +hand, was a curiously vital-appearing creature in black--plainly a +widow--hardly more than thirty-two or thirty-three, fresh of skin, +rather prominent as to eyeballs, yet, everything considered, a handsome +woman. This was Alys Brewster-Smith. The other, shorter, slighter, +several years older, a faded, smiling, tremulously hopeful spinster, was +Genevieve's own cousin, Emelene Brand. + +"It's so nice of you to come--" Genevieve began timidly, only to be +swept aside by the superior aggressiveness and the stronger voice of +Mrs. Brewster-Smith. + +"My _dear_! Isn't it perfectly delightful to see you actually mistress +of this wonderful old home. And"--her slightly prominent eyes swiftly +took in furniture, pictures, rugs, flowers,--"how wonderfully you +have managed to give the old place your own tone!" "Nothing has been +changed," murmured Genevieve, a thought bewildered. + +"Nothing, my dear, but yourself! I am _so_ looking forward to a good +talk with you. Emelene and I were speaking of that only this noon. And +I can't tell you how sorry I am that our first call has to be on a +miserable political matter. Tell me, dear, is that wonderful husband of +yours at home?" + +"Why--yes. But I am not to disturb him." + +"Ah, shut away in his den?" + +Genevieve nodded. + +"It's a very important paper he has to write. It has to be done now, +before he is drawn into the whirl of campaign work." + +"Of course! Of course! But I'm afraid the campaign is whirling already. +I will tell you what brought us, my dear. You know of course that +Mrs. Harvey Herrington has come out for suffrage--thrown in her whole +personal weight and, no doubt, her money. I can't understand it--with +her home, and her husband--going into the mire of politics. But that is +what she has done. And Grace Hatfield called up not ten minutes ago to +say that she has just led a delegation of ladies up to your husband's +office. Think of it--to his office! The first day!... Well, Emelene, it +is some consolation that they won't find him there." + +"He isn't going to the office today," said Genevieve. "But what can they +want of him?" + +"To get him to declare for suffrage, my dear." + +"Oh--I'm sure he wouldn't do that!" + +"Are you, my dear? Are you _sure_?" + +"Well----" + +"He has told you his views, of course?" + +Genevieve knit her brows. "Why, yes--of course, we've talked about +things----" + +"My dear, of course he is _against suffrage_." + +"Oh yes, of course. I'm sure he is. Though, you see, I would no more +think of intruding in George's business affairs than he would think of +intruding in my household duties." + +"Naturally, Genevieve. And very sweet and dear of you! But I'm sure you +will see how very important this is. Here we are, right at the beginning +of his campaign. Those vulgar women are going to hound him. They've +begun already. As our committee wrote him last week, it is vitally +important that he should declare himself unequivocally at once." + +"Oh, yes," murmured Genevieve, "of course. I can see that." + +The doors swung open. A thin little man of forty to fifty stood there, +a dry but good-humored man, with many wrinkles about his quizzical blue +eyes, and sandy hair at the sides and back of an otherwise bald head. +He was smartly dressed in a homespun Norfolk suit. He waved a cap of +homespun in greeting. + +"Afternoon, ladies! Genevieve, a bachelor's admiration and respect! I +hope that boy George has got sense enough to be proud of you. But they +haven't at that age. They're all for themselves." + +"Oh no, Uncle Martin," cried Genevieve, "George is the most +generous----" + +Mr. Martin Jaffry flicked his cap. "All right. All right! He is." And +slowly retreated. + +Mrs. Brewster-Smith, an eager light in her eyes, moved part way across +the room. "But we can't let you run away like this, Mr. Jaffry. Do sit +down and tell us about the work you are doing at the Country Club. Is it +to be bowling alley _and_ swimming pool----" + +"Bowling alley _and_ swimming pool, yes. Tell me, chick, might a humble +constituent speak to the great man?" + +Genevieve hesitated. "I'm sure he'd love to see you, Uncle Martin. But +he _did_ say----" + +"Not to be disturbed by _any_body, eh?" + +"Yes, Uncle Martin. It's a very important statement he has to prepare +before----" + +"Good day, then. You look fine in the old house, chick!" + +Mr. Jaffry donned his cap of homespun, ran down the steps and out the +front walk, hopped into his eight-cylinder roadster, and was off down +the street in a second. There was a sharp decisiveness about his exit, +and about the sudden speed of his machine; all duly noted by Mrs. +Brewster-Smith, who had gone so far as to move down the room to the +front window and watch the performance with narrowed eyes. The Jaffry +Building stands at the southwest corner of Fountain Square. It boasts +six stories, mosaic flooring in the halls, and the only passenger +elevator in Whitewater. The ground floor was given over to Humphrey's +drug store; and most of Humphrey's drug store was given over to the +immense marble soda fountain and the dozen or more wire-legged tables +and the two or three dozen wire chairs that served to accommodate the +late afternoon and evening crowd. + +At the moment the fountain had but one patron--a remarkably fat boy of, +perhaps, fifteen, with plump cheeks and drooping mouth.... The row of +windows across the second floor front of the building, above Humphrey's, +bore, each, the legend--_Remington and Evans, Attorneys at Law_. + +The fat boy was Percival Sheridan, otherwise Pudge. His sister, Betty +Sheridan, worked in the law offices directly overhead and possessed a +heart of stone. + +Betty was rich, at least in the eyes of Pudge. For more than a +year (Betty was twenty-two) she had enjoyed a private income. Pudge +definitely knew this. She had money to buy out the soda fountain. But +her character, thought Pudge, might be summed up in the statement that +she worked when she didn't have to (people talked about this; even to +him!) and flatly refused to give her brother money for soda. + +As if a little soda ever hurt anybody. She took it herself, often +enough. Within five minutes he had laid the matter before her--up in +that solemn office, where they made you feel so uncomfortable. She had +said: "Pudge Sheridan, you're killing yourself! Not one cent more for +wrecking your stomach!" + +She had called him "Pudge." For months he had been reminding her that +his name was Percival. And he wasn't wrecking his stomach. That was +silly talk. He had eaten but two nut sundaes and a chocolate frappe +since luncheon. It wasn't soda and candy that made him so fat. Some +folks just were fat, and some folks were thin. That was all there was +_to_ it! + +Pudge himself would have a private income when he was twenty-one. Six +years off... and Billy Simmons in his white apron, was waiting now, on +the other side of the marble counter, for his order--and grinning as +he waited. Six years! Why, Pudge would be a man then--too old for nut +sundaes and chocolate frappes, too far gone down the sober slope of life +to enjoy anything! + +Pudge wriggled nervously, locked his feet around behind the legs of +the high stool, rubbed a fat forefinger on the edge of the counter, and +watched the finger intently with gloomy eyes. + +"Well, what'll it be, Pudge?" This from Billy Simmons. + +"My name ain't Pudge." + +"Very good, Mister Sheridan. What'll it be?" + +"One of those chocolate marshmallow nut sundaes, I guess, if--if----" + +"If what, Mister Sheridan?" + +"--if, oh well, just charge it." + +Billy Simmons paused in the act of reaching for a sundae glass. The +smile left his face. + +Pudge, though he did not once look up from that absorbing little +operation with the fat forefinger, felt this pause and knew that Billy's +grin had gone; and his own mouth drooped and drooped. It was a tense +moment. + +"You see, Pudge," Billy began in some embarrassment, only to conclude +rather sharply, "I'll have to ask Mr. Humphrey. Your sister said we +weren't----" + +"Oh, well!" sighed Pudge. Getting down from the stool he waddled slowly +out of the store. + +It was no use going up against old Humphrey. He had tried that. He went +as far as the fire-plug, close to the corner, and sank down upon it. +Everybody was against him. He would sit here awhile and think it over. +Perhaps he could figure out some way of breaking through the conspiracy. +Then Mr. Martin Jaffry drove up to the curb and he had to move his legs. +Mr. Jaffry said, "Hello, Pudge," too. It was all deeply annoying. + +Meantime, during the past half-hour, the law offices of Remington and +Evans were not lacking in the sense of life and activity. Things began +moving when Penny Evans (christened Penfield) came back from lunch. He +wore an air--Betty Sheridan noted, from her typewriter desk within the +rail--of determination. His nod toward herself was distinctly brusque; a +new quality which gave her a moment's thought. And then when he had +hung up his hat and was walking past her to his own private office, he +indulged in a faint, fleeting grin. + +Betty considered him. She had known Penny Evans as long as she could +remember knowing anybody; and she had never seen him look quite as he +looked this afternoon. + +The buzzer sounded. It was absurd, of course; nobody else in the +office. He could have spoken--you could hear almost every sound over the +seven-foot partitions. + +She rose, waited an instant to insure perfect composure, smoothed down +her trim shirtwaist, pushed back a straying wisp of her naturally wavy +hair, picked up her notebook and three sharp pencils, and went quietly +into his office. + +He sat there at his flat desk--his blond brows knit, his mouth firm, a +light of eager good humor in his blue eyes. + +"Take this," he said... Betty seated herself opposite him, and was +instantly ready for work. + +"... Memorandum. From rentals--the old Evans property on Ash Street, the +two houses on Wilson Avenue South, and the factory lease in the South +Extension, a total of slightly over $3600. + +"New paragraph. From investments in bonds, railway and municipal, an +average the last four years of $2800. + +"New paragraph. From law practice, last year, over $4500. Will be +considerably more this year. Total----" + +"New paragraph?" + +"No. Continue. Total, $10,900. This year will be close to $12,000. Don't +you think that's a reasonably good showing for an unencumbered man of +twenty-seven?" + +"Dictation--that last?" + +"No, personal query, Penny to Betty." + +"Yes, then, it is very good. You want this in memorandum form. Any +carbons?" + +"One carbon--in the form of a diamond--gift from Penny to Betty." Miss +Sheridan settled back in her chair, tapped her pretty mouth with her +pencil, and surveyed the blond young man. Her eyes were blue--frank, +capable eyes. + +"Penny, I like my work here----" + +"I should hope so----" + +"And I don't want to give it up." + +"Then don't." + +"I shall have to, Penny, if you don't stop breaking your word. It was +a definite agreement, you know. You were not to propose to me, on any +working day, before seven P.M. This is a proposal of course----" + +"Yes, of course, but I've just----" + +"That makes twice this month, then, that you've broken the agreement. +Now I can go on and put my mind on my work, if you'll let me. Otherwise, +I shall have to get a job where they _will_ let me." + +"But, Betty, I've just this noon sat down and figured up where I stand. +It has frightened me a little. I didn't realize I was taking in more +than ten thousand a year. And all of a sudden it struck me that I've +been an imbecile to wait, or make any agreement----" + +"Then you broke it deliberately?" + +"Absolutely. Betty--no fooling now; I'm in earnest----" + +Studying him, she saw that he was intensely in earnest. + +"You see, child, I've tried to be patient because I know how you were +brought up, what you're used to. Why, I wouldn't dream of asking you to +be my wife unless I could feel pretty sure of being able to give you +the comforts you've always had and ought to have. But hang it, Betty, I +_can_ do it right! I can give you a home that's worthy of you. Any time! +This year, even!" + +"Penny, do you think I care what your income is--for one minute?" + +"Why--why----" + +"When I'm earning twenty dollars a week myself and prouder of it than--" + +"But that's absurd, Betty--for you to be working--as a stenographer, of +all things! A girl with your looks and your gifts and all that's back of +you." + +"You mean that I should make marriage my profession?" + +"Well--well----" + +"Probably that's why we keep missing each other, Penny. I've pinned my +flag to the principle of economic independence. You're looking for +a girl who will marry for a living. There are lots of them. Pretty, +attractive girls, too. Your difficulty is, you want that sort. You +really believe all girls are that sort at heart, and you think my +independence a fad--something I shall get over. Don't you, now?" + +"Well, I'll confess I can't see it as the normal thing. Yes, I +believe--I hope--you will get over it." + +"Well--" Miss Sheridan slammed her book shut and stood up--"I won't." + +She stepped to the door. + +"And the agreement stands. I want to keep on working. And I want to keep +on being fond of you. That agreement is necessary to both desires." She +opened the door, hesitated and a hint of mischief flashed across her +face. "I'll tell you just the person for you, Penny. Really. Marriage is +her profession. She's very experienced. Temporarily out of a job--Alys +Brewster-Smith." + +He snatched a carnation from the glass on his desk and threw it at her. +It struck a closed door. + + * * * * * + +The outer door opened just then, and Mr. Martin Jaffry stepped in. He +nodded, with his little quizzical smile, to the composed young woman who +stood within the railing. + +"Anybody here, Betty?" + +A slight movement of her prettily poised head indicated the door marked +"Mr. Evans." And she said, "Penny's there." + +"Is he shut up, too? His partner is too important to be seen today." + +"Oh no," Betty replied, inscrutably sober, "he's not important." + +Mr. Jaffry wrinkled up his eyes, chuckled softly, then stepped to the +door of the unimportant one. Before opening it, he turned. "Mrs. Harvey +Herrington been in?" + +"Twice with a committee." + +"Any idea what she wanted?" + +Betty was aware that the whimsical and roundabout Mr. Jaffry knew +everything about everybody in Whitewater. She was further aware that he +had, undoubtedly, reasons of his own for questioning her. He was +always asking questions, anyway. Worse than a Chinaman. And for some +reason--perhaps because he was Martin Jaffry--you always answered his +questions. + +"Yes," said Betty. "She wants to pledge him to suffrage." + +"Umm! Yes, I see! You wouldn't be against that yourself, would you?" + +"Naturally not. I'm secretary of the Second Ward Suffrage Club." + +"Umm! Yes, yes!" With which illuminating comment, Mr. Jaffry tapped on +Penny Evans' door, opened it and entered. + +"Spare a minute?" he inquired. + +"Sure," said Penny; "two, ten! Take a chair." + +"No," replied Mr. Jaffry, "I won't take a chair. Think better on +my feet. I'm in a bit of a quandary. Suppose you tell me what this +important paper is that George is drawing up. Do you know?" + +"I do." + +"Is he coming out against suffrage?" + +"Flatly." + +"Umm!" Mr. Jaffry flicked his cap about. "I want to see George. He +mustn't do that." + +"Say, Mr. Jaffry, you haven't swung over----" + +"Not at all. It's tactics. I ought to see him." + +"Why not run out to his house----" + +"Just been there. Ran away. Some one there I'm afraid of." + +"Telephone?" + +Mr. Jaffry shook his head and lowered his voice. + +"With Betty hearing it at this end, and the committee from the Antis +sitting it out down there--the telephone's on the stair landing----" + +He pursed his lips, waved his cap slowly to and fro and observed it +with a whimsical expression on his sandy face, then glanced out of the +window. He stepped closer, looking sharply down. A very fat boy with +pink cheeks and a downcast expression was sitting on a fire-plug. Mr. +Jaffry leaned out. + +"Pudge," he called, "come up here a minute." + +On the Remington and Evans stationery he penciled a note, which he +sealed. Then he scribbled another--to Mrs. George Remington, asking her +to hand George the inclosure the moment he appeared from his work. The +two he slipped into a large envelope. The very fat boy stood before him. + +"Want to make a quarter, Pudge? Take this letter, right now, to Mrs. +George Remington. Give it to her personally. It's the old Remington +place, you know." + +He felt in his change pocket. It was empty. He hesitated, turned to +Evans, then, reconsidering, produced a dollar bill from another pocket +and gave it to the boy. + +"Now run," he said. + +The boy, speechless, turned and moved out of the office. His sister +spoke to him, but he did not turn his head. He rolled down the stairs to +the street, stood a moment in front of Humphrey's, drew a sudden breath +that was almost a gasp, waddled into the store, advanced directly on the +soda fountain, and with a blazing red face and angrily triumphant eyes +confronted Billy Simmons. + +"I'll take a chocolate marshmallow nut sundae," he said. "And you +needn't be stingy with the marshmallow, either!" + + * * * * * + +At ten minutes past four, the anxious Antis in the Remington living-room +heard the candidate for district attorney running down the stairs, and +even Mrs. Brewster-Smith was hushed. The candidate stopped, however, +on the landing. They heard him lift the telephone receiver. He called a +number. Then---- + +"_Sentinel_ office?... Mr. Ledbetter, please.... Hello, Ledbetter! +Remington speaking. I have that statement ready. Will you send a man +around?... Yes, right away. And I wish you'd put it on the wires. +Display it just as prominently as you can, won't you?... Thanks. That's +fine! Good-by." + +He ran back upstairs. + +But shortly he appeared, wearing the distrait, exalted expression of the +genius who has just passed through the creative act. He looked very tall +and strong as he stood before the mantel, receiving the congratulations +of Mrs. Brewster-Smith and the timid admiration of Cousin Emelene. His +few words were well chosen and were uttered with dignity. + +"And now, dear Mr. Remington, I'm sure I don't need to ask you if you +are taking the right stand on suffrage." This from Mrs. Brewster-Smith. + +The candidate smiled tolerantly. + +"If unequivocal opposition is 'right'----" + +"Oh, you dear man! I was sure we could count on you. Isn't it splendid, +Genevieve!" + +The reporters came. + + * * * * * + +It was a busy evening for the young couple. There were relatives for +dinner. Other relatives and an old friend or two came later. Throughout, +George wore that quietly exalted expression, and carried himself with +the new dignity. + +To the adoring Genevieve his chin had never appeared so long and strong, +his thought had never seemed so elevated, his quiet self-respect had +never been so commanding. He was no longer merely her George, he was now +a public figure. Soon he would be district attorney; then, very likely, +Governor; then--well, Senator; and finally--it was possible--some one +had to be--President of the United States. He had begun, this day, by +making a great decision, by stepping boldly out on principle, on moral +principle, and announcing himself a defender of the home, of the right. + +At midnight, the last guest departed. George and Genevieve stepped out +into the summer moonlight and strolled arm in arm down the walk. + +Waddling up the street appeared a very fat boy. + +"Why, Pudge," cried Genevieve, "what on earth are you doing out at this +time of night!" + +"I'm going home, I tell you!" muttered the boy, on the defensive. He +carried a large bag of what seemed to be chocolate creams, from which he +was eating. + +As he passed, a twinge of memory disturbed him. He fumbled in his +pockets. + +"I was to give you this," he said then; and leaving a crumpled envelope +in Genevieve's hand, he walked on as rapidly as he could. + +A few minutes later, standing under the light in the front hall, George +Remington read this penciled note: + +"I stood ready to contribute more than I promised--any amount to put +you over. But if you give out a statement against suffrage you're a damn +fool and I withdraw every cent. A man with no more political sense and +skill than that isn't worth helping. You should have advised me. + +"M. J." + + + + +CHAPTER II. BY HARRY LEON WILSON + + +It may have been surmised that our sterling young candidate for district +attorney had not yet become skilled in dalliance with the equivocal; +that he was no adept in ambiguity; that he would confront all issues +with a rugged valiance susceptible of no misconstruction; that, in +short, George Remington was no trimmer. + +If he opposed an issue, one knew that he opposed it from the heart out. +He said so and he meant it. And, being opposed to the dreadful heresy +of equal suffrage, no reader of the Whitewater _Sentinel_ that morning +could say, as the shrewd so often say of our older statesmen, that +George was "side-stepping." + +Not George's the mellow gift to say, in effect, that of course woman +should vote the instant she wishes to, though perhaps that day has not +yet come. Meantime the speaker boldly defies the world to show a man +holding woman in loftier regard than he does, or ready to accord her a +higher value in all true functions of the body politic. Equal suffrage, +thank God, is inevitable at some future time, but until that glorious +day when we can be assured that the sex has united in a demand for it, +it were perhaps as well not to cloud the issues of the campaign now +opening; though let it be understood, and he cannot put this too +plainly, that he reveres the memory of his gray-haired mother without +whose tender ministrations and wise guidance he could never have reached +the height from which he now speaks. And so let us pass on to the voting +on these canal bonds, the true inwardness of which, thanks to the +venal activities of a corrupt opposition, even an exclusively male +constituency has thus far failed to comprehend. And so forth. + +Our hero, then, had yet to acquire this finesse. As we are now +privileged to observe him, he is as easy to understand as the +multiplication table, as little devious and, alas! as lacking in +suavity. Yet, let us be fair to George. Mere innocence of guile, of +verbal trickery, had not alone sufficed for his passionate bluntness in +the present crisis. At a later stage in his career as a husband he might +have been equally blunt; yet never again, perhaps, would he have been so +emotional in his opposition to woman polluting herself with the mire of +politics. + +Be it recalled that but five weeks had elapsed since George had solemnly +promised to cherish and protect the fairest of the non-voting sex--at +least in his State--and he was still taking his mission seriously. As he +wrote the words that were now electrifying, in a manner of speaking, +the readers of the _Sentinel_, and of neighboring journals with enough +enterprise to secure them, he had beheld his own Genevieve, fine, +flawless, tenderly nourished flower that she was, being dragged from her +high place with the most distressing results. + +He saw her rushed from the sacred shelter of her home and made to attend +primaries; he saw her compelled to strive tearfully with problems that +revolted all her finer instincts; he saw her insulted at polling booths; +saw her voting in company with persons of both sexes whom one could +never know. + +He saw her tainted, bruised, beaten down in the struggle, losing little +by little all sense of the holy values of Wife, Mother, Home. As he +wrote he heard her weakening cries for help as she perished, and more +than once his left arm instinctively curved to shield her. + +Was it not for his wife, then; nay, for wifehood itself, that he wrote? +And so, was it quite fair for unmarried Penfield Evans, burning at +his breakfast table a cynical cigarette over the printed philippic, to +murmur, "Gee! old George _has_ spilled the beans!" + +Simple words enough and not devoid of friendly concern. But should he +not have divined that George had been appalled to his extremities of +speech by the horrendous vision of his fair young bride being hurled +into depths where she would be obliged, if not to have opinions of her +own, at least to vote with the rabble as he might decide they ought to +vote? + +And should not other critics known to us have divined the racking +anguish under which George had labored? For one, should not Elizabeth +Sheridan, amateur spinster, have been all sympathy for one who was +palpably more an alarmed bridegroom than a mere candidate? + +Should not her maiden heart have been touched by this plausible aspect +of George's dilemma, rather than her mere brain to have been steeled to +a humorous disparagement tinged with bitterness? + +And yet, "What rot!" muttered Miss Sheridan,--"silly rot, bally rot, +tommy rot, and all the other kinds!" + +Hereupon she creased a brow not meant for creases and defaced an +admirable nose with grievous wrinkles of disdain. "Sacred names of wife +and mother!" This seemed regrettably like swearing as she delivered +it, though she quoted verbatim. "Sacred names of petted imbeciles!" she +amended. + +Then, with berserker fury, crumpling her _Sentinel_ into a ball, she +venomously hurled it to the depths of a waste basket and religiously +rubbed the feel of it from her fingers. As she had not even glanced at +the column headed "Births, Deaths, Marriages," it will be seen that her +agitation was real. And surely a more discerning sympathy might have +been looked for from the seasoned Martin Jaffry. A bachelor full of +years and therefore with illusions not only unimpaired but ripened, who +more quickly than he should have divined that his nephew for the moment +viewed all womankind as but one multiplied Genevieve, upon whom it would +be heinous to place the shackles of suffrage? + +Perhaps Uncle Martin did divine this. Perhaps he was a mere trimmer, +a rank side-stepper, steeped in deceit and ever ready to mouth the +abominable phrase "political expediency." It were rash to affirm this, +for no analyst has ever fathomed the heart of a man who has come to his +late forties a bachelor by choice. One may but guess from the ensuing +meager data. + +Uncle Martin at a certain corner of Maple Avenue that morning, fell +in with Penfield Evans, who, clad as the lilies of a florist's window, +strode buoyantly toward his office, the vision of his day's toil pinkly +suffused by an overlaying vision of a Betty or Sheridan character. Mr. +Evans bubbled his greeting. "Morning! Have you seen it? Oh, _say_, have +you seen it?" + +The immediate manner of Uncle Martin not less than his subdued garb +of gray, his dark gloves and his somber stick, intimated that he saw +nothing to bubble about. + +"He has burned his bridges behind him." The speaker looked as grim as +any bachelor-by-choice ever may. + +"Regular little fire-bug," blithely responded Mr. Evans, moderating his +stride to that of the other. + +"Can't understand it," resumed the gloomy uncle. "I sent him word in +time; sent it from your office by messenger. It was plain enough. I told +him no money of mine would go into his campaign if he made a fool of +himself--or words to that effect." + +"Phew! Cast you off, did he? Just like that?" + +"Just like that! Went out of his way to overdo it, too. Needn't have +come out half so strong. No chance now to backwater--not a chance +on earth to explain what he really did mean--and make it something +different." "Quixotic! That's how it reads to me." + +Uncle Martin here became oracular, his somber stick gesturing to point +his words. + +"Trouble with poor George, he's been silly enough to blurt out the +truth, what every man of us thinks in his heart--" + +"Eh?" said Mr. Evans quickly, as one who has been jolted. + +"No more sense than to come right out and say what every one of us +thinks in his secret heart about women. I think it and you think it--" + +"Oh, well, if you put it _that_ way," admitted young Mr. Evans +gracefully. "But of course--" + +"Certainly, of _course!_ We all think it--sacred names of home and +mother and all the rest of it; but a man running for office these days +is a chump to say so, isn't he? Of course he is! What chance does it +leave him? Answer me that." + +"Darned little, if you ask me," said Mr. Evans judicially. "Poor old +George!" + +"Talks as if he were going to be married tomorrow instead of its having +come off five weeks ago," pursued Uncle Martin bitterly. Plainly there +were depths of understanding in the man, trimmer though he might be. + +Mr. Evans made no reply. Irrationally he was considering the terms "five +weeks" and "married" in relation to a spinster who would have professed +to be indignant had she known it. + +"Got to pull the poor devil out," said Uncle Martin, when in silence +they had traversed fifty feet more of the shaded side of Maple Avenue. + +"How?" demanded the again practical Mr. Evans. + +"Make him take it back; make him recant; swing him over the last week +before election. Make him eat his words with every sign of exquisite +relish. Simple enough!" + +"How?" persisted Mr. Evans. + +"Wiles, tricks, subterfuges, chicanery--understand what I mean?" + +"Sure! I understand what you mean as well as you do, but--come down to +brass tacks." + +"That's an entirely different matter," conceded Uncle Martin gruffly. +"It may take thought." + +"Oh, is that all? Very well then; we'll think. I, myself, will think. +First, I'll have a talk with the sodden amorist. I'll grill him. I'll +find the weak spot in his armor. There must be something we can put over +on him." + +"By fair means or foul," insisted Uncle Martin as they paused at the +parting of their ways. "Low-down, underhanded work--do you get what I +mean?" + +"I do, I do!" declared young Mr. Evans and broke once more into the +buoyant stride of an earlier moment. This buoyance was interrupted but +once, and briefly, ere he gained the haven of his office. + +As he stepped quite too buoyantly into Fountain Square, he was all but +run down by the new six-cylinder roadster of Mrs. Harvey Herrington, +driven by the enthusiastic owner. He regained the curb in time, with a +ready and heartfelt utterance nicely befitting the emergency. + +The president of the Whitewater Women's Club, the Municipal League and +the Suffrage Society, brought her toy to a stop fifteen feet beyond her +too agile quarry, with a fine disregard for brakes and tire surfaces. +She beckoned eagerly to him she might have slain. She was a large woman +with an air of graceful but resolute authority; a woman good to look +upon, attired with all deference to the modes of the moment, and +exhaling an agreeable sense of good-will to all. + +"Be careful always to look before you start across and you'll never have +to say such things," was her greeting to Mr. Evans, as he halted beside +this minor juggernaut. + +"Sorry you heard it," lied the young man readily. + +"Such a flexible little car--picks up before one realizes," conceded +Whitewater's acknowledged social dictator. "But what I wanted to say is +this: that poor daft partner of yours has mortally offended every woman +in town except three, with that silly screed of his. I've seen nearly +all of them that count this morning, or they've called me by telephone. +Now, why couldn't he have had the advice of some good, capable woman +before committing himself so rabidly?" + +"Who were the three?" queried Mr. Evans. + +"Oh, poor Genevieve, of course; she goes without saying. And you'd guess +the other two if you knew them better--his cousin, Alys Brewster-Smith, +and poor Genevieve's Cousin Emelene. They both have his horrible +school-boy composition committed to memory, I do believe. + +"Cousin Emelene recited most of it to me with tears in her weak eyes, +and Alys tells me his noble words have made the world seem like a +different place to her. She said she had been coming to believe that +chivalry of the old true brand was dying out, but that dear Cousin +George has renewed her faith in it. + +"Think of poor Genevieve when they both fall on his neck. They're going +up for that particular purpose this afternoon. The only two in town, +mind you, except poor Genevieve. Oh, it's too awfully bad, because aside +from this medieval view of his, George was probably as acceptable for +this office as any man could be." + +The lady burdened the word "man" with a tiny but distinguishable +emphasis. Mr. Evans chose to ignore this. + +"George's friends are going to take him in hand," said he. "Of course +he was foolish to come out the way he has, even if he did say only what +every man believes in his secret heart." + +The president of the Whitewater Woman's Club fixed him with a glittering +and suddenly hostile eye. + +"What! you too?" she flung at him. He caught himself. He essayed +explanations, modifications, a better lighting of the thing. But at the +expiration of his first blundering sentence Mrs. Herrington, with +her flexible little car, was narrowly missing an aged and careless +pedestrian fifty yards down the street. + + * * * * * + +"George come in yet?" + +For the second time Mr. Evans was demanding this of Miss Elizabeth +Sheridan who had also ignored his preliminary "Good morning!" + +Now for a moment more she typed viciously. One would have said that the +thriving legal business of Remington and Evans required the very swift +completion of the document upon which she wrought. And one would have +been grossly deceived. The sheet had been drawn into the machine at the +moment Mr. Evans' buoyant step had been heard in the outer hall, and +upon it was merely written a dozen times the bald assertion, "Now is the +time for all good men to come to the aid of the party." + +Actually it was but the mechanical explosion of the performer's mood, +rather than the wording of a sentiment now or at any happier time +entertained by her. + +At last she paused; she sullenly permitted herself to be interrupted. +Her hands still hovered above the already well-punished keys of the +typewriter. She glanced over a shoulder at Mr. Evans and allowed him to +observe her annoyance at the interruption. + +"George has not come in yet," she said coldly. "I don't think he will +ever come in again. I don't see how he can have the face to. I shouldn't +think he could ever show himself on the street again after that--that--" + +The young woman's emotion overcame her at this point. Again her +relentless fingers stung the blameless mechanism--"to come to the aid of +the party. Now is the time for all good--" She here controlled herself +to further speech. "And _you!_ Of course you applaud him for it. Oh, I +knew you were all alike!" + +"Now look here, Betty, this thing has gone far enough----" + +"Far enough, indeed!" + +"But you won't give me a chance!" + +Mr. Evans here bent above his employee in a threatening manner. + +"You don't even ask what I think about it. You say I'm guilty and ought +to be shot without a trial--not even waiting till sunrise. If you had +the least bit of fairness in your heart you'd have asked me what I +really thought about this outbreak of George's, and I'd have told you in +so many words that I think he's made all kinds of a fool of himself." + +"No! Do you really, Pen?" + +Miss Sheridan had swiftly become human. She allowed her eyes to meet +those of Mr. Evans' with an easy gladness but little known to him of +late. "Of course I do, Betty. The idea of a candidate for office in this +enlightened age breaking loose in that manner! It's suicide. He could be +arrested for the attempt in this State. Is that strong enough for you? +You surely know how I feel now, don't you? Come on, Betty dear! Let's +not spar in that foolish way any longer. Remember all I said yesterday. +It goes double today--really, I see things more clearly." + +Plainly Miss Sheridan was disarmed. + +"And I thought you'd approve every word of his silly tirade," she +murmured. Mr. Evans, still above her, was perilously shaken by the +softer note in her voice, but he controlled himself in time and sat +in one of the chairs reserved for waiting clients. It was near Miss +Sheridan, yet beyond reaching distance. He felt that he must be cool in +this moment of impending triumph. + +"Wasn't it the awfullest rot?" demanded the spinster, pounding out a row +of periods for emphasis. + +"And he's got to be made to eat his words," said Mr. Evans, wisely +taking the same by-path away from the one subject in all the world that +really mattered. + +"Who could make him?" + +"I could, if I tried." It came in quiet, masterful tones that almost +convinced the speaker himself. + +"Oh, Pen, if you could! Wouldn't that be a victory, though? If you only +could----" + +"Well, if I only could--and if I do?" His intention was too pointed to +be ignored. + +"Oh, _that_!" He winced at the belittling "that." "Of course I couldn't +promise--anyway I don't believe you could ever do it, so what's the use +of being silly?" + +"But you will--will you promise, if I _do_ convert George? Answer the +question, please!" Mr. Evans glared as only actual district attorneys +have the right to. + +"Oh, what nonsense--but, well, I'll promise--I'll promise to promise to +think very seriously about it indeed, if you bring George around." + +"Betty!" It was the voice of an able pleader and he half arose from his +chair, his arms eloquent of purpose. "'Now is the time for all good +men to come to the aid of the party. Now is the time for'--" wrote Miss +Sheridan with dazzling fingers, and the pleader resumed his seat. + +"How will you bring him 'round," she then demanded. + +"Wiles, tricks, stratagems," replied the rising young diplomat moodily, +smarting under the moment's defeat. + +"Serve him right for pulling all that old-fashioned nonsense," said Miss +Sheridan, and accorded her employer a glance in which admiration for his +prowess was not half concealed. + +"The words of a fool wise in his own folly," went on the encouraged Mr. +Evans, and then, alas! a victim to the slight oratorical thrill these +words brought him,--"honestly uttering what every last man believes +and feels about woman in his heart and yet what no sane man running for +office can say in public--here, what's the matter?" + +The latter clause had been evoked by the sight of a blazing Miss +Sheridan, who now stood over him with fists tightly clenched. "Oh, oh, +oh!" This was low, tense, thrilling. It expressed horror. "So that's +what your convictions amount to! Then you do applaud him, every word +of him, and you were deceiving me. Every man in his own heart, indeed. +Thank heaven I found you out in time!" + +It may be said that Mr. Evans now cowered in his chair. The term is not +too violent. He ventured to lift a hand in weak protest. + +"No, no, Betty, you are being unjust to me again. I meant that that was +what Martin Jaffry told me this morning. It isn't what I believe at all. +I tell you my own deepest sentiments are exactly what yours are in this +great cause which--which--" + + +Painfully he became aware of his own futility. Miss Sheridan had ceased +to blaze. Seated again before the typewriter she grinned at him with +amused incredulity. + +"You nearly had me going, Pen." + +Mr. Evans summoned the deeper resources of his manhood and achieved an +easier manner. He brazenly returned her grin. "I'll have you going again +before I'm through--remember that." + +"By wiles, tricks and stratagems, I suppose." + +"The same. By those I shall make poor George recant, and by those, +assuming you to be a woman with a fine sense of honor who will hold a +promise sacred, I shall have you going. And, mark my words, you'll be +going good, too!" + +"Silly!" + +She drew from the waste basket the maltreated _Sentinel_, unfurled it to +expose the offending matter, and smote the column with the backs of four +accusing fingers. + +"There, my dear, is your answer. Now run along like a good boy." + +"Silly!" said Mr. Evans, striving for a masterly finish to the unequal +combat. He arose, dissembling cheerful confidence, straightened the +frame of a steel-engraved Daniel Webster on the wall, and thrice paced +the length of the room, falsely appearing to be engaged in deep thought. + +Miss Sheridan, apparently for mere exclamatory purposes, now reread the +fulmination of the absent partner. She scoffed, she sneered, flouted, +derided, and one understood that she was including both members of the +firm. Then her listener became aware that she had achieved coherence. + +"Indeed, yes! Do you know what ought to happen to him? Every unprotected +female in this county ought to pack her trunk and trudge right up to +the Remington place and say, 'Here we are, noble man! We have read your +burning words in which you offer to protect us. Save us from the vote! +Let your home be our sanctuary. That's what you mean if you meant +anything but tommy-rot. Here and now we throw ourselves upon your +boasted chivalry. Where are our rooms, and what time is luncheon +served.'" + +"Here! Just say that again," called Mr. Evans from across the room. Miss +Sheridan obliged. She elaborated her theme. George should be taken at +his word by every weak flower of womanhood. If women were nothing +but ministering angels, it was "up to" George to give 'em a chance to +minister. + +So went Miss Sheridan's improvisation and Mr. Evans, suffering the +throes of a mighty inspiration, suddenly found it sweetest music. + +When Miss Sheridan subsided, Mr. Evans appeared to have forgotten the +cause of their late encounter. Whistling cheerily he bustled into his +own office, mumbling of matters that had to be "gotten off." For some +moments he busied himself at his desk, then emerged to dictate three +business letters to his late antagonist. + +He dictated in a formal and distant manner, pausing in the midst of the +last letter to spell out the word "analysis," which he must have known +would enrage her further. Then, quite casually, he wished to be told +if she might know the local habitat of Mrs. Alys Brewster-Smith and a +certain Cousin Emelene. His manner was arid. + +Miss Sheridan chanced to know that the ladies were sheltered in the +exclusive boarding-house of one Mrs. Gallup, out on Erie Street, and +informed him to this effect in the fewest possible words. Mr. Evans +whistled absently a moment, then formally announced that he should be +absent from the office for perhaps an hour. Hat, gloves and stick in +hand, he was about to nod punctiliously to the back of Miss Sheridan's +head when the door opened to admit none other than our hero, George +Remington. George wore the look of one who is uplifted and who yet has +found occasion to be thoughtful about it. Penfield Evans grasped his +hand and shook it warmly. + +"Fine, George, old boy--simply corking! Honestly, I didn't believe you +had it in you. You covered the ground and you did it in a big way. It +took nerve, all right! Of course you probably know that every woman in +town is speaking of your young wife as 'poor Genevieve,' but you've had +the courage of your convictions. It's great!" + +"Thanks, old man! I've spoken for the right as I saw it, let come what +may. By the way, has Uncle Martin been in this morning, or telephoned, +or sent any word?" + +Miss Sheridan coldly signified that none of these things had occurred, +whereupon George sighed in an interesting manner and entered his own +room. + +Mr. Evans had uttered his congratulations in clear, ringing tones and +Miss Sheridan, even as she wrote, contrived with her trained shoulders +to exhibit to his lingering eye an overwhelming contempt for his +opinions and his double-dealing. + +In spite of which he went out whistling, and dosed the door in a defiant +manner. + + + + +CHAPTER III. BY FANNIE HURST + + +Destiny, busybody that she is, has her thousand irons in her perpetual +fires, turning, testing and wielding them. + +While Miss Betty Sheridan, for another scornful time, was rereading the +well-thumbed copy of the _Sentinel_, her fine back arched like a prize +cat's, George Remington in his small mahogany office adjoining, neck low +and heels high, was codifying, over and over again, the small planks +of his platform, stuffing the knot holes which afforded peeps to the +opposite side of the issue with anti-putty, and planning a bombardment +of his pattest phrases for the complete capitulation of his Uncle +Jaffry. + +While Genevieve Remington in her snug library, so eager in her +wifeliness to clamber up to her husband's small planks, and if need +be, spread her prettily flounced skirts over the rotting places, was +memorizing, with more pride than understanding, extracts from the +controversial article for quotation at the Woman's Club meeting, Mr. +Penfield Evans, with a determination which considerably expanded his +considerable chest measurement, ran two at a bound up the white stone +steps of Mrs. Gallup's private boarding-house and pulled out the white +china knob of a bell that gave no evidence of having sounded within, and +left him uncertain to ring again. + +A cast-iron deer, with lichen growing along its antlers, stood poised +for instant flight in Mrs. Gallup's front yard. + +While Mr. Evans waited he regarded its cast-iron flanks, but not +seeingly. His rather the expression of one who stares into the future +and smiles at what he sees. + +Erie Street, shaded by a double row of showy chestnuts, lay in summer +calm. A garden hose with a patent attachment spun spray over an +adjoining lawn and sent up a greeny smell. Out from under the striped +awning of Hassebrock's Ice Cream Parlor, cat-a-corner, Percival +Pauncefort Sheridan, in rubber-heeled canvas shoes and white trousers, +cuffed high, emerged and turned down Huron Street, making frequent +forays into a bulging rear pocket. + +Miss Lydia Chipley, vice-president of the Busy Bee Sewing and Civic +Club, cool, starchy and unhatted, clicked past on slim, trim heels, +all radiated by the reflection from a pink parasol, gay embroidery bag +dangling. + +"Hello, Lyd!" + +"Hello, Pen!" + +"What's your hurry?" + +"It's my middle name." + +"Why hurry, when the future is always waiting?" + +"Why aren't you holding your partner's head since he committed political +suicide in the _Sentinel_?" + +"I'd rather hold your head, Lyd, any day in the week." + +"Gaul," said Miss Chipley, passing on, her sharply etched little face +glowing in the pink reflection of the parasol, "is bounded on the north +by Mrs. Gallup's boarding-house, and on the south by----" + +"By the Frigid Zone!" + +Then the door from behind swung open. Mr. Penfield Evans stepped into +Mrs. Gallup's cool, exclusive parlor of better days, and delivering his +card to a moist-fingered maid, sat himself among the shrouded furniture +to await Mrs. Alys Brewster-Smith and Miss Emelene Brand. + +Mrs. Gallup's boarding-house was finishing its noonday meal. Boiled +odors lay upon a parlor that was otherwise redolent of the more opulent +days of the Gallups. A not too ostentatious clatter of dishes came +through the closed folding-doors. + +Almost immediately Mrs. Alys Brewster-Smith, her favorite Concentrated +Breath of the Lily always in advance, rustled into the darkened parlor, +her stride hitting vigorously into her black taffeta skirts. Even as she +shook hands with Mr. Evans, she jerked the window shade to its height, +so that her smoothness and coloring shone out above her weeds. + +In the shadow of her and at her life job of bringing up the rear, with +a large Maltese cat padding beside her, entered Miss Brand on rubber +heels. She was the color of long twilight. + +Mr. Evans rose to his six-feet-in-his-stockings and extended them each a +hand, Miss Emelene drawing the left. + +Mrs. Smith threw up a dainty gesture, black lace ruffles falling back +from arms all the whiter because of them. + +"Well, Penny Evans!" + +"None other, Mrs. Smith, than the villain himself." + +"Be seated, Penfield." + +"Thanks, Miss Emelene." + +They drew up in a triangle beside the window overlooking the cast-iron +deer. The cat sprang up, curling in the crotch of Miss Emelene's arm. + +"Nice ittie kittie, say how-do to big Penny-field-Evans. Say how-do to +big man. Say how-do, muvver's ittie kittie." Miss Emelene extended +the somewhat reluctant Maltese paw, five hook-shaped claws slightly in +evidence. + +"Say how-do to Hanna, Penfield. Hanna, say how-do to big man." "How-do, +Hanna," said Mr. Evans, reddening slightly beneath his tan. Then hitched +his chair closer. + +"To what," he began, flashing his white smile from one to the other of +them, and with a strong veer to the facetious, "are we indebted for the +honor of this visit? Are those the unspoken words, ladies?" + +"Nothing wrong at home, Penfield? Nobody ailing or--" + +"No, no, Miss Emelene, never better. As a matter of fact, it's a piece +of political business that has prompted me to--" + +At that Mrs. Smith jangled her bracelets, leaning forward on her knees. + +"If it's got anything to do with your partner and my cousin George +Remington having the courage to go in for the district attorneyship +without the support of the vote-hunting, vote-eating women of this town, +I'm here to tell you that I'm with him heart and soul. He can have my +support and--" + +"Mine too. And if I've got anything to say my two nephews will vote for +him; and I think I have, with my two heirs." + +"Ladies, it fills my heart with joy to--" + +"Votes! Why what would the powder-puffing, short-skirted, bridge-playing +women of this town do with the vote if they had it? Wear it around their +necks on a gold chain?" + +"Well spoken, Mrs. Smith, if--" + +"I know the direction you lean, Penfield Evans, letting--" + +"But, Miss Emelene, I--" + +"Letting that shameless Betty Sheridan, a girl that had as sweet and +womanly a mother as Whitewater ever boasted, lead you around by the +nose on her suffrage string. A girl with her raising and both of her +grandmothers women that lived and died genteel, to go traipsing around +in her low heels in men's offices and addressing hoi polloi from soap +boxes! Why, between her and that female chauffeur, Mrs. Herrington, +another woman whose mother was of too fine feelings even to join the +Delsarte class, the women of this town are being influenced to making +disgraceful--dis--oh, what shall I say, Alys?" + +Here Mrs. Smith broke in, thumping a soft fist into a soft palm. + +"It's the most pernicious movement, Mr. Evans, that has ever got hold of +this community and we need a man like my cousin George Remington to--" + +"But, Mrs. Smith, that's just what I--" + +"To stamp it out! Stamp it out! It's eating into the homes of +Whitewater, trying to make breadwinners out of the creatures God +intended for the bread-eaters--I mean bread-bakers." + +"But, Mrs. Smith, I--" + +"Woman's place has been the home since home was a cave, and it will +be the home so long as women will remember that womanliness is their +greatest asset. As poor dear Mr. Smith was so fond of saying, he--I +can't bring myself to talk of him, Mr. Evans, but--but as he used to +say, I--I--" + +"Yes, yes, Mrs. Smith, I understa--" + +"But as my cousin says in his article, which in my mind should be spread +broadcast, what higher mission for woman than--than--just what are his +words, Emelene?" + +Miss Brand leaned forward, her gaze boring into space. + +"What higher mission," she quoted, as if talking in a chapel, "for woman +than that she sit enthroned in the home, wielding her invisible but +mighty scepter from that throne, while man, kissing the hand that so +lovingly commands him, shall bear her gifts and do her bidding. That is +the strongest vote in the world. That is the universal suffrage which +chivalry grants to woman. The unpolled vote! Long may it reign!" + +Round spots of color had come out on Miss Emelene's long cheeks. + +"A man who can think like that has the true--the true--what shall I say, +Alys?" + +"But, ladies, I protest that I'm not--" + +"Has the true chivalry of spirit, Emelene, that the women are too stark +raving mad to appreciate. You can't come here, Mr. Evans, to two women +to whom womanliness and love of home, thank God, are still uppermost and +try to convert us to--" + +Here Mr. Evans executed a triple gyration, to the annoyance of Hanna, +who withdrew from the gesture, and raised his voice to a shout that was +not without a note of command. + +"Convert you! Why women alive, what I've been bursting a blood vessel +trying to say during the length of this interview is that I'd as soon +dip my soul in boiling oil as try to convert you away from the cause. +_My_ cause! _Our_ cause!" + +"Why--" + +"I'm here to tell you that I'm with my partner head-over-heels on the +plank he has taken." + +"But we thought--" + +"We thought you and Betty Sheridan--why, my cousin Genevieve Remington +told me that--" + +"Yes, yes, Miss Emelene. But not even the wiles of a pretty woman can +hold out indefinitely against Truth! A broad-minded man has got to +keep the door of his mind open to conviction, or it decays of mildew. I +confess that finally I am convinced that if there is one platform more +than another upon which George Remington deserves his election it is on +the brave and chivalrous principles he has so courageously come out with +in the current _Sentinel_. Whatever may have been between Betty Sheridan +and--" + +"Mr. Evans, you don't mean to tell me that you and Betty Sheridan have +quarreled! Such a desirable match from every point of view, family and +all! It goes to show what a rattle-pated bunch of women they are! Any +really clever girl with an eye to her future, anti or pro, could shift +her politics when it came to a question of matri--" + +"Mrs. Smith, there comes a time in every modern man's life when he's got +to keep his politics and his pretty girls separate, or suffrage will get +him if he don't watch out!" + +"Yes, and Mr. Evans, if what I hear is true, a good-looking woman can +talk you out of your safety deposit key!" + +"That's where you're wrong, Mrs. Smith, and I'll prove it to you. +Despite any wavering I may have exhibited, I now stand, as George puts +it in his article, 'ready to conserve the threatened flower of womanhood +by also endeavoring to conserve her unpolled vote!' If you women want +prohibition, it is in your power to sway man's vote to prohibition. +If you women want the moon, let man cast your proxy vote for it! In my +mind, that is the true chivalry. To quote again, 'Woman is man's +rarest heritage, his beautiful responsibility, and at all times his +co-operation, support and protection are due her. His support and +protection.'" + +Miss Emelene closed her eyes. The red had spread in her cheeks and she +laid her head back against the chair, rocking softly and stroking the +thick-napped cat. + +"The flower of womanhood," she repeated. "'His support and his +protection.' If ever a man deserved high office because of high +principles, it's my cousin George Remington! My cousin Genevieve +Livingston Remington is the luckiest girl in the world, and not one of +us Brands but what is willing to admit it. My two nephews, too, if their +Aunt Emelene has anything to say, and I think she has--" + +"Why, there isn't a stone in the world I wouldn't turn to see that boy +in office," Mrs. Smith interrupted. + +At that Mr. Evans rose. + +"You mean that, Mrs. Smith?" + +Miss Emelene rose with him, the cat pouring from her lap. + +"Of course she means it, Penfield. What self-respecting woman wouldn't!" + +Mr. Evans sat down again suddenly, Miss Emelene with him, and leaning +violently forward, thrust his eager, sun-tanned face between the two +women. + +"Well, then, ladies, here's your chance to prove it! That's what brings +me today. As two of the self-respecting, idealistic and womanly women of +this community, I have come to urge you both to--" + +"Oh, Mr. Evans!" + +"Penfield, you are the flatterer!" + +"To induce two such representative women as yourselves to help my +partner to the election he so well deserves." + +"Us?" "It is in your power, ladies, to demonstrate to Whitewater that +George Remington's chivalry is not only on paper, but in his soul." + +"But--how?" + +"By throwing yourselves upon his generosity and hospitality, at least +during the campaign. You have it in your power, ladies, to strengthen +the only uncertain plank upon which George Remington stands today." + +A clock ticked roundly into a silence tinged with eloquence. The Maltese +leaped back into Miss Emelene's lap, purring there. + +"You mean, Penfield, for us to go visit George--er--er--" + +"Just that! Bag and baggage. As two relatives and two unattached women, +it is your privilege, nay, your right." + +"But--" + +"He hasn't come out in words with it, but he has intimated that such an +act from the representative antis of this town would more than anything +strengthen his theories into facts. As unattached women, particularly as +women of his own family, his support and protection, as he puts it, are +due you, _due_ you!" + +Mrs. Smith clasped her plentifully ringed fingers, and regarded him with +her prominent eyes widening. + +"Why, I--unprotected widow that I am, Mr. Evans, am not the one to force +myself even upon my cousin if--" + +"Nor I, Penfield. It would be a pleasant enough change, heaven knows, +from the boarding-house. But you can ask your mother, Penfield, if there +ever was a prouder girl in all Whitewater than Emmy Brand. I--" + +"But I tell you, ladies, the obligation is all on George's part. It's +just as if you were polling votes for him. What is probably the oldest +adage in the language, states that actions speak louder than words. +Give him his chance to spread broadcast to your sex his protection, his +support. That, ladies, is all I--we--ask." + +"But I--Genevieve--the housekeeping, Penfield. Genevieve isn't much on +management when it comes to--" "Housekeeping! Why, I have it from your +fair cousin herself, Miss Emelene, that her idea of their new little +home is the Open House." + +"Yes, but--as Emelene says, Mr. Evans, it's an imposition to--" + +"Why do you think, Mrs. Smith, Martin Jaffry spends all his evenings +up at Remingtons' since they're back from their honeymoon? Why, he was +telling me only last night it's for the joy of seeing that new little +niece of his lording it over her well-oiled little household, where a +few extra dropping in makes not one whit of difference." + +At this remark, embedded like a diamond in a rock, a shade of faintest +color swam across Mrs. Smith's face and she swung him her profile and +twirled at her rings. + +"And where Genevieve Remington's husband's interests are involved, +ladies, need I go further in emphasizing your welcome into that little +home?" + +"Heaven knows it would be a change from the boarding-house, Alys. The +lunches here are beginning to go right against me! That sago pudding +today--and Gallup knowing how I hate starchy desserts!" + +"For the sake of the cause, Miss Emelene, too!" + +"Gallup would have to hold our rooms at half rate." + +"Of course, Mrs. Smith. I'll arrange all that." + +"I--I can't go over until evening, with three trunks to pack." + +"Just fine, Mrs. Smith. You'll be there just in time to greet George at +dinner." + +Miss Emelene fell to stroking the cat, again curled like a sardelle in +her lap. + +"Kitti-kitti-kitti--, does muvver's ittsie Hanna want to go on visit to +Tousin George in fine new ittie house? To fine Tousin Georgie what give +ittsie Hanna big saucer milk evvy day? Big fine George what like ladies +and lady kitties!" + +"Emelene, it's out of the question to take Hanna. You know how George +Remington hates cats! You remember at the Sunday School Bazaar when--" +A grimness descended like a mask over Miss Brand's features. Her mouth +thinned. + +"Very well, then. Without Hanna you can count me out, Penfield. If--" + +"No, no! Why nonsense, Miss Emelene! George doesn't--" + +"This cat has the feelings and sensibilities of a human being." + +"Why of course," cried Penfield Evans, reaching for his hat. "Just +you bring Hanna right along, Miss Emelene. That's only a pet pose of +George's when he wants to tease his relatives, Mrs. Smith. I remember +from college--why I've seen George _kiss_ a cat!" + +Miss Emelene huddled the object of controversy up in her chin, talking +down into the warm gray fur. + +"Was 'em tryin' to 'buse muvver's ittsie bittsie kittsie? Muvver's +ittsie bittsie kittsie!" + +They were in the front hall now, Mr. Evans tugging at the door. + +"I'll run around now and arrange to have your trunks called for at five. +My congratulations and thanks, ladies, for helping the right man toward +the right cause." + +"You're _sure_, Penfield, we'll be welcome?" + +"Welcome as the sun that shines!" + +"If I thought, Penfield, that Hanna wouldn't be welcome I wouldn't budge +a step." + +"Of course she's welcome, Miss Emelene. Isn't she of the gentler sex? +There'll be a cab around for you and Mrs. Smith and Hanna about five. So +long, Mrs. Smith, and many thanks. Miss Emelene, Hanna." + +On the outer steps they stood for a moment in a dapple of sunshine and +shadow from chestnut trees. + +"Good-by, Mr. Evans, until evening." + +"Good-by, Mrs. Smith." He paused on the walk, lifting his hat and +flashing his smile a third time. + +"Good-by, Miss Emelene." + +From the steps Miss Brand executed a rotary motion with the left paw of +the dangling Maltese. + +"Tell nice gentleman by-by. Tum now, Hanna, get washed and new ribbon to +go by-by. Her go to big Cousin George and piddy Cousin Genevieve. By-by! +By-by!" + +The door swung shut, enclosing them. Down the quiet, tree-shaped +sidewalk, Mr. Penfield Evans strode into the somnolent afternoon, +turning down Huron Street. At the remote end of the block and before +her large frame mansion of a thousand angles and wooden lace work, Mrs. +Harvey Herrington's low car sidled to her curb-stone, racy-looking as a +hound. That lady herself, large and modish, was in the act of stepping +up and in. + +"Well, Pen Evans! 'Tis writ in the book our paths should cross." + +"Who more pleased than I?" + +"Which way are you bound?" + +"Jenkins' Transfer and Cab Service." + +"Jump in." + +"No sooner said than done." + +Mrs. Herrington threw her clutch and let out a cough of steam. They +jerked and leaped forward. From the rear of the car an orange and black +pennant--_Votes for Women_--stiffened out like a semaphore against the +breeze. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. BY DOROTHY CANFIELD + + +Genevieve Remington sat in her pretty drawing-room and watched the hour +hand of the clock slowly approach five. Five was a sacred hour in her +day. At five George left his office, turned off the business-current +with a click and turned on, full-voltage, the domestic-affectionate. + +Genevieve often told her girl friends that she only began really to +live after five, when George was restored to her. She assured them +the psychical connection between George and herself was so close that, +sitting alone in her drawing-room, she could feel a tingling thrill +all over when the clock struck five and George emerged from his office +downtown. + +On the afternoon in question she received her five o'clock electric +thrill promptly on time, although history does not record whether or not +George walked out from his office at that moment. With all due respect +for the world-shaking importance of Mr. Remington's movements, it must +be stated that history had, on that afternoon, other more important +events to chronicle. + +As the clock struck five, the front doorbell rang. Marie, the maid, went +to open the door. Genevieve adjusted the down-sweeping, golden-brown +tress over her right eye, brushed an invisible speck from the piano, +straightened a rose in a vase, and after these traditionally bridal +preparations, waited with a bride's optimistic smile the advent of a +caller. But it was Marie who appeared at the door, with a stricken face +of horror. + +"Mrs. Remington! Mrs. Remington!" she whispered loudly. "They've come to +stay. The men are getting their trunks down from the wagon." + +"_Who_ has come to stay? _Where?_" queried the startled bride. + +"The two ladies who came to call yesterday!" + +"_Oh!_" said the relieved Genevieve. "There's some mistake, of course. +If it's Cousin Emelene and Mrs.----" + +She advanced into the hall and was confronted by two burly men with a +very large trunk between them. + +"Which room?" said one of them in a bored and insolent voice. + +"Oh, you must have come to the wrong house," Genevieve assured them with +her pretty, friendly smile. + +She was so happy and so convinced of the essential rightness of a world +which had produced George Remington that she had a friendly smile for +every one, even for unshaven men who kept their battered derby hats +on their heads, had viciously smelling cigars in their mouths, and +penetrated to her sacred front hall with trunks which belonged somewhere +else. + +"Isn't this G. L. Remington's house?" inquired one of the men, dropping +his end of the trunk and consulting a dirty slip of paper. + +"Yes, it is," admitted Genevieve, thrilling at the thought that it was +also hers. "This is the place all right, then," said the man. He heaved +up his end of the trunk again, and said once more, "Which room?" + +The repetition fell a little ominously on Genevieve's ear. What on earth +could be the matter? + +She heard voices outside and craning her soft white neck, she saw Cousin +Emelene, with her gray kitten under one arm and a large suitcase in her +other hand, coming up the steps. There was a beatific expression in her +gentle, faded eyes, and her lips were quivering uncertainly. When she +caught sight of Genevieve's sweet face back of the bored expressmen, she +gave a little cry, ran forward, set down her suitcase and clasped her +young cousin in her arms. + +"Oh Genevieve dear, that noble wonderful husband of yours! What have you +done to deserve such a man... out of this Age of Gold!" + +This was a sentiment after Genevieve's own heart, but she found it +rather too vague to meet the present somewhat tense situation. + +Cousin Emelene went on, clasping her at intervals, and talking very +fast. "I can hardly believe it! Now that my time of trial is all over +I don't mind telling you that I was growing embittered and cynical. All +those phrases my dear mother had brought me to believe, the sanctity of +the home, the chivalrous protection of men, the wicked folly of women +who leave the home to engage in fierce industrial struggle."... At about +this point the expressmen set the trunk down, put their hands on their +hips, cocked their hats at a new angle and waited in gloomy ennui for +the conversation to stop. Cousin Emelene flowed on, her voice unsteady +with a very real emotion. + +"See, dear, you must not blame me for my lack of faith... but see how it +looked to me. There I was, as womanly a woman as ever breathed, and yet +_I_ had no home to be sanctified, _I_ had never had a bit of chivalrous +protection from any man. And with the New Haven stocks shrinking from +one day to the next, the way they do, it looked as though I would either +have to starve or engage in the wicked, unwomanly folly of earning +my own living. Do you know, dear Genevieve, I had almost come to the +point--you know how the suffragists do keep banging away at their +points--I almost wondered if perhaps they were right and if men really +mean those things about protection and support in place of the vote.... +And then George's splendid, noble-spirited article appeared, and a kind +friend interpreted it for me and told what it really meant, for _me_! +Oh, Genevieve."... The tears rose to her mild eyes, her gentle, flat +voice faltered, she took out a handkerchief hastily. "It seemed too good +to be true," she said brokenly into its folds. "I've longed all my life +to be protected, and now I'm going to be!" + +"Which room, please?" said the expressman. "We gotta be goin' on." + +Genevieve pinched herself hard, jumped and said "_ouch_." Yes, she was +awake, all right! + +"Oh, Marie, will you please get Hanna a saucer of milk?" said Cousin +Emelene now, seeing the maid's round eyes glaring startled from the +dining-room door. "And just warm it a little bit, don't scald it. She +won't touch it if there's the least bit of a scum on it. Just take that +ice-box chill off. Here, I'll go with you this time. Since we're going +to live here now, you'll have to do it a good many times, and I'd better +show you just how to do it right." + +She disappeared, leaving a trail of caressing baby-talk to the effect +that she would take good care of muvver's ittie bittie kittie. + +She left Genevieve for all practical purposes turned to stone. She felt +as though she were stone, from head to foot, and she could open her +mouth no more than any statue when, in answer to the next repetition, +very peremptory now, of "Which room?" a voice as peremptory called from +the open front door, "Straight upstairs; turn to your right, first door +on the left." + +As the men started forward, banging the mahogany banisters with the +corners of the trunk at every step, Mrs. Brewster-Smith stepped in, +immaculate as to sheer collar and cuffs, crisp and tailored as to suit, +waved and netted as to hair, and chilled steel and diamond point as to +will-power. + +"Oh, Genevieve, I didn't see _you_ there! I didn't know why they stood +there waiting so long. I know the house so well I knew of course which +room you'll have for guests. _Dear_ old house! It will be like returning +to my childhood to live here again!" She cocked an ear toward the upper +regions and frowned, but went on smoothly. + +"Such happy girlhood hours as I have passed here! After all there is +nothing like the home feeling, is there, for us women at any rate! +We're the natural conservatives, who cling to the simple, elemental +satisfactions, and there's a heart-hunger that can only be satisfied +by a home and a man's protection! I thought George's description too +beautiful ... in his article you know... of the ideal home with the +women of the family safe within its walls, protected from the savagery +of the economic struggle which only men in their strength can bear +without being crushed." + +She turned quickly and terribly to the expressmen coming down the stairs +and said in so fierce a voice that they shrank back visibly, "There's +another trunk to take up to the room next to that. And if you let it +down with the bang you did this one, you'll get something that will +surprise you! Do you hear me!" + +They shrank out, cowed and tiptoeing. Mrs. Brewster-Smith turned back +to her young cousin-by-marriage and murmured, "That was such a true +and deep saying of George's... wherever does such a young man get his +wisdom!... that women are not fitted by nature to cope with hostile +forces!" + +Cousin Emelene approached from behind the statue of Genevieve, still +frozen in place with an expression of stupefaction on her white face. +The older woman put her arms around the bride's neck and gave her an +affectionate hug. + +"Oh, dearest Jinny, doesn't it seem like a dream that we're all going to +be together, all we women, in a real home, with a real man at the head +of it to direct us and give us of his strength! It does seem just like +that beautiful old-fashioned home that George drew such an exquisite +picture of, in his article, where the home was the center of the world +to the women in it. It will be to me, I assure you, dear. I feel as +though I had come to a haven, and as though I _never_ would want to +leave it!" + +The expressmen were carrying up another trunk now, and so conscious of +the glittering eyes of mastery upon them that they carried it as though +it were the Ark of the Covenant and they its chosen priests. Mrs. +Brewster-Smith followed them with a firm tread, throwing over her +shoulder to the stone Genevieve below, "Oh, my dear, little Eleanor +and her nurse will be in soon. Frieda was taking Eleanor for her usual +afternoon walk. Will you just send them upstairs when they come! I +suppose Frieda will have the room in the third story, that extra room +that was finished off when Uncle Henry lived here. Emelene, you'd better +come right up, too, if you expect to get unpacked before dinner." + +She disappeared, and Emelene fluttered up after her, drawn along by +suction, apparently, like a sheet of paper in the wake of a train. +The expressmen came downstairs, still treading softly, and went out. +Genevieve was alone again in her front hall. To her came tiptoeing +Marie, with wide eyes of query and alarm. And from Marie's questioning +face, Genevieve fled away like one fleeing from the plague. + +"Don't ask me, Marie! Don't _speak_ to me. Don't you dare ask me what... +or I'll..." She was at the front door as she spoke, poised for flight +like a terrified doe. "I must see Mr. Remington! I don't know _what_ to +tell you, Marie, till I have seen Mr. Remington! I must see my husband! +I don't know what to say, I don't know what to _think_, until I have +seen my husband." + +Calling this eminently wifely sentiment over her shoulder she ran +down the front walk, hatless, wrapless, just as she was in her pretty +flowered and looped-up bride's house dress. She couldn't have run faster +if the house had been on fire. + +The clicking of her high heels on the concrete sidewalk was a rattling +tattoo so eloquent of disorganized panic that more than one head was +thrust from a neighboring window to investigate, and more than one head +was pulled back, nodding to the well-worn and charitable hypothesis, +"Their first quarrel." The hypothesis would instantly have been +withdrawn if any one had continued looking after the fleeing bride long +enough to see her, regardless of passers-by, fling herself wildly into +her husband's arms as he descended from the trolley-car at the corner. + +Betty Sheridan was sitting in the drawing-room of her parents' house, +rather moodily reading a book on the _Balance of Trade_. + +She had an unconfessed weakness of mind on the subject of tariffs and +international trade. Although when in college she had written a paper +on it which had been read aloud in the Economics Seminar and favorably +commented upon, she knew, in her heart of hearts, that she understood +less than nothing about the underlying principles of the subject. This +nettled her and gave her occasional nightmare moments of doubt as to the +real fitness of women for public affairs. She read feverishly all she +could find on the subject, ending by addling her brains to the point of +frenzy. + +She was almost in that condition now although she did not look it in +the least as, dressed for dinner in the evening gown which replaced +the stark linens and tailored seams of her office-costume, she bent her +shining head and earnest face over the pages of the book. + +Penfield Evans took a long look at her, as one looks at a rose-bush in +bloom, before he spoke through the open door and broke the spell. + +"Oh, Betty," he called in a low tone, beckoning her with a gesture +redolent of mystery. + +Betty laid down her book and stared. "What you want?" she challenged +him, reverting to the phrase she had used when they were children +together. + +"Come on out here a minute!" he said, jerking his head over his +shoulder. "I want to show you something." + +"Oh, I can't fuss around with you," said Betty, turning to her book +again. "I've got Roberts' _Balance of Trade_ out of the library and I +must finish it by tomorrow." She began to read again. + +The young man stood silent for a moment. "Great Scott!" he was saying to +himself with a sinking heart. "So _that's_ what they pick up for light +reading, when they're waiting for dinner!" + +He had a particularly gone feeling because, although he had made +several successful political speeches on international trade and foreign +tariffs, he was intelligent enough to know in his heart of hearts that +he had no real understanding of the principles involved. He had come, +indeed, to doubt if any one had! + +Now, as he watched the pretty sleek head bent over the book he had +supposed of course was a novel, he felt a qualm of real apprehension. +Maybe there was something in what that guy said, the one who wrote +a book to prove (bringing Queen Elizabeth and Catherine the Great as +examples) that the real genius of women is for political life. Maybe +they _have_ a special gift for it! Maybe, a generation or so from now, +it'll be the _men_ who are disfranchised for incompetence.... He put +away as fantastic such horrifying ideas, and with a quick action of his +resolute will applied himself to the present situation. "Oh Betty, you +don't know what you're missing! It's a sight you'll never forget as long +as you live... oh, come on! Be a sport. Take a chance!" + +Betty was still suspicious of frivolity, but she rose, looked at her +wrist-watch and guessed she'd have a few minutes before dinner, to fool +away in light-minded society. + +"There's nothing light-minded about this!" Penny assured her gravely, +leading her swiftly down the street, around the corner, up another +street and finally, motioning her to silence, up on the well-clipped +lawn of a handsome, dignified residence, set around with old trees. + +"Look!" he whispered in her ear, dramatically pointing in through the +lighted window. "Look! What do you see?" + +Betty looked, and looked again and turned on him petulantly: + +"What foolishness are you up to now, Penfield Evans!" she whispered +energetically. "Why under the sun did you drag me out to see Emelene +and Alys Brewster-Smith dining with the Remingtons? Isn't it just +the combination of reactionary old fogies you might expect to get +together... though I didn't know Alys ever took her little girl out to +dinner-parties, and Emelene must be perfectly crazy over that cat to +take her here. Cats make George's flesh creep. Don't you remember, at +the Sunday School Bazaar." + +He cut her short with a gesture of command, and applying his lips to her +ear so that he would not be heard inside the house, he said, "You think +all you see is Emelene and Alys taking dinner _en famille_ with +the Remingtons. Eyes that see not! What you are gazing upon is a +reconstruction of the blessed family life that existed in the good +old days, before the industrial period and the abominable practice +of economic independence for women began! You are seeing Woman in +her proper place, the Home,... if not her own Home, somebody's Home, +anybody's Home... the Home of the man nearest to her, who owes her +protection because she can't vote. You are gazing upon..." + +His rounded periods were silenced by a tight clutch on his wrist. +"Penfield Evans. Don't you dare exaggerate to me! Have they come there +to stay! _To take him at his word!_" + +He nodded solemnly. + +"Their trunks are upstairs in the only two spare-rooms in the house, +and Frieda is installed in the only extra room in the attic. Marie gave +notice that she was going to quit, just before dinner. George has been +telephoning to my Aunt Harriet to see if she knows of another maid...." + +"Whatever... whatever could have made them _think_ of such a thing!" +gasped Betty, almost beyond words. + +"I did!" said Penfield Evans, tapping himself on the chest. "It was _my_ +giant intelligence that propelled them here." + +He was conscious of a lacy rush upon him, and of a couple of soft arms +which gave him an impassioned embrace none the less vigorous because +the arms were more used to tennis-racquets and canoe-paddles than +impassioned embraces. Then he was thrust back... and there was Betty, +collapsed against a lilac bush, shaking and convulsed, one hand +pressed hard on her mouth to keep back the shrieks of merriment which +continually escaped in suppressed squeals, the other hand outstretched +to ward him off.... + +"No, don't you touch me, I didn't mean a thing by it! I just couldn't +help it! It's too, _too_ rich! Oh Penny, you duck! Oh, I shall die! I +shall die! I never saw anything so funny in my life! Oh, Penny, take me +away or I shall perish here and now!" + +On the whole, in spite of the repulsing hand, he took it that he had +advanced his cause. He broke into a laugh, more light-hearted than he +had uttered for a long time. They stood for a moment more in the soft +darkness, gazing in with rapt eyes at the family scene. Then they +reeled away up the street, gasping and choking with mirth, festooning +themselves about trees for support when their legs gave way under them. + +"_Did_ you see George's face when Emelene let the cat eat out of her +plate!" cried Betty. + +"And did you see Genevieve's when Mrs. Brewster-Smith had the dessert +set down in front of her to serve!" + +"How about little Eleanor upsetting the glass of milk on George's +trousers!" + +"Oh _poor_ old George! Did you ever see such gloom!" + +Thus bubbling, they came again to Betty's home with the door still open +from which she had lately emerged. There Betty fell suddenly silent, +all the laughter gone from her face. The man peered in the dusk, +apprehensive. What had gone wrong, now, after all? + +"Do you know, Penny, we're pigs!" she said suddenly, with energy. "We're +hateful, abominable pigs!" + +He glared at her and clutched his hair. + +"Didn't you see Emelene Brand's face? I can't get it out of my mind! It +makes me sick, it was so happy and peaceful and befooled! Poor old +dear! She _believes_ all that! And she's the only one who does! And its +beastly in us to make a joke of it! She has wanted a home all her life, +and she'd have made a lovely one, too, for children! And she's been kept +from it by all this fool's talk about womanliness." + +"Help! What under the sun are you..." began Penfield. + +"Why, look here, she's not and never was, the kind any man wants to +marry. She wouldn't have liked a real husband, either... poor, dear, +thin-blooded old child! But she wanted a _home_ just the same. Everybody +does! And if she had been taught how to earn a decent living, if she +hadn't been fooled out of her five senses by that idiotic cant about a +man's doing everything for you, or else going without... why she'd be +working now, a happy, useful woman, bringing up two or three adopted +children in a decent home she'd made for them with her own efforts... +instead of making her loving heart ridiculous over a cat...." + +She dashed her hand over her eyes angrily, and stood silent for a +moment, trying to control her quivering chin before she went into the +house. + +The young man touched her shoulder with reverent fingers. "Betty," he +said in a rather unsteady voice, "its _true_, all that bally-rot about +women being better than men. You _are_!" + +With which very modern compliment, he turned and left her. + + + + +CHAPTER V. BY KATHLEEN NORRIS + + +Her first evening with her augmented family Genevieve Remington never +forgot. It is not at all likely that George ever forgot it, either; +but to George it was only one in the series of disturbing events that +followed his unqualified repudiation of the suffrage cause. + +To Genevieve's tender heart it meant the wreckage, not the preservation +of the home; that lovely home to whose occupancy she had so hopefully +looked. She was too young a wife to recognize in herself the evanescent +emotions of the bride. The blight had fallen upon her for all time. What +had been fire was ashes; it was all over. The roseate dream had been +followed by a cruel, and a lasting, awakening. + +Some day Genevieve would laugh at the memory of this tragic evening, as +she laughed at George's stern ultimatums, and at Junior's decision to +be an engineer, and at Jinny's tiny cut thumb. But she had no sense of +humor now. As she ran to the corner, and poured the whole distressful +story into her husband's ears, she felt the walls of her castle in Spain +crashing about her ears. + +George, of course, was wonderful; he had been that all his life. He only +smiled, at first, at her news. + +"You poor little sweetheart!" he said to his wife, as she clung to his +arm, and they entered the house together. "It's a shame to distress you +so, just as we are getting settled, and Marie and Lottie are working +in! But it's too absurd, and to have you worry your little head is +ridiculous, of course! Let them stay here to dinner, and then I'll just +quietly take it for granted that they are going home--" + +"But--but their trunks are here, dearest!" + +Husband and wife were in their own room now, and Genevieve was rapidly +recovering her calm. George turned from his mirror to frown at her in +surprise. "Their trunks! They didn't lose any time, did they? But do you +mean to say there was no telephoning--no notice at all?" + +"They may have telephoned, George, love. But I was over at Grace +Hatfield's for a while, and I got back just before they came in!" + +George went on with his dressing, a thoughtful expression on his face. +Genevieve thought he looked stunning in the loose Oriental robe he wore +while he shaved. + +"Well, whatever they think, we can't have this, you know," he said +presently. "I'll have to be quite frank with Alys,--of course Emelene +has no sense!" + +"Yes, be quite frank!" Genevieve urged eagerly. "Tell them that of +course you were only speaking figuratively. Nobody ever means that a +woman really can't get along without a man's protection, because look at +the women who _do_--" + +She stopped, a little troubled by the expression on his face. + +"I said what I truly believe, dear," he said kindly. "You know that!" +Genevieve was silent. Her heart beat furiously, and she felt that she +was going to cry. He was angry with her--he was angry with her! Oh, what +had she said, what _had_ she said! + +"But for all that," George continued, after a moment, "nobody but two +women could have put such an idiotic construction upon my words. I +am certainly going to make that point with Alys. A sex that can jump +headlong to such a perfectly untenable conclusion is very far from ready +to assume the responsibilities of citizenship--" + +"George, dearest!" faltered Genevieve. She did not want to make him +cross again, but she could not in all loyalty leave him under this +misunderstanding, to approach the always articulate Alys. + +"George, it was Penny, I'm sure!" she said. "From what they said,--they +talked all the time!--I think Penny went to see them, and sort of--sort +of--suggested this! I'm so sorry, George--" + +George was sulphurously silent. + +"And Penny will make the most of it, you know!" + +Genevieve went on quickly and nervously. "If you should send them back, +tonight, I know he'd tell Betty! And Betty says she is coming to see you +because she has been asked to read an answer to your paper, at the Club, +and she might--she has such a queer sense of humor--" + +Silence. Genevieve wished that she was dead, and that every one was +dead. + +"I don't want to criticize you, dear," George said presently, in his +kindest tone. "But the time to _act_, of course, was when they first +arrived. I can't do anything now. We'll just have to face it through, +for a few days." + +It was not much of a cloud, but it was their first. Genevieve went +downstairs with tears in her eyes. + +She had wanted their home to be so cozy, so dainty, so intimate! And now +to have two grown women and a child thrust into her Paradise! Marie was +sulky, rattling the silver-drawer viciously while her mistress talked +to her, and Lottie had an ugly smile as she submitted respectfully that +there wasn't enough asparagus. + +Then George's remoteness was terrifying. He carved with appalling +courtesy. "Is there another chicken, Genevieve?" he asked, as if he had +only an impersonal interest in her kitchen. No, there was only the one. +And plenty, too, said the guests pleasantly. Genevieve hoped there were +eggs and bacon for Marie and Lottie and Frieda. + +"I'm going to ask you for just a mouthful more, it tastes so delicious +and homy!" said Alys. "And then I want to talk a little business, +George. It's about those houses of mine, out in Kentwood...." + +George looked at her blankly, over his drumstick. + +"Darling Tom left them," said Tom's widow, "and they really have rented +well. They're right near the factory, you know. But now, just lately, +some man from the agents has been writing and writing me; he says that +one of them has been condemned, and that unless I do something or other +they'll all be condemned. It's a horrid neighborhood, and I don't like +the idea, anyway, of a woman poking about among drains and cellars. Yet, +if I send the agent, he'll run me into fearful expense; they always do. +So I'm going to take them out of his hands tomorrow, and turn it all +over to you, and whatever you decide will be best!" + +"My dear girl, I'm the busiest man in the world!" George said. "Leave +all that to Allen. He's the best agent in town!" + +"Oh, I took them away from Allen months ago, George. Sampson has them +now." + +"Sampson? What the deuce did you change for? I don't know that Sampson +is solvent. I certainly would go back to Allen--" + +"George, I can't!" + +The widow looked at her plate, swept him a coquettish glance, and +dropped her eyes again. + +"Mr. Allen is a dear fellow," she elucidated, "but his wife is dreadful! +There's nothing she won't suspect, and nothing she won't say!" + +"My dear cousin, this isn't a question of social values! It's business!" +George said impatiently. "But I'll tell you what to do," he added, after +scowling thought. "You put it in Miss Eliot's hands; she was with Allen +for some years. Now she's gone in for herself, and she's doing well. +We've given her several things--" "Take it out of a man's hands to put +it into a woman's!" Alys exclaimed. And Emelene added softly: + +"What can a woman be thinking of, to go into a dreadful business like +selling real estate and collecting rents!" + +"Of course, she was trained by men!" Genevieve threw in, a little +anxiously. Alys was so tactless, when George was tired and hungry. She +cast about desperately for some neutral topic, but before she could find +one the widow spoke again. + +"I'll tell you what I'll do, George. I'll bring the books and papers +to your office tomorrow morning, and then you can do whatever you think +best! Just send me a check every month, and it will be all right!" + +"Just gather me up what's there, on the plate," Emelene said, with her +nervous little laugh in the silence. "I declare I don't know when I've +eaten such a dinner! But that reminds me that you could help me +out wonderfully, too, Cousin George--I can't quite call you Mr. +Remington!--with those wretched stocks of mine. I'm sure I don't know +what they've been doing, but I know I get less money all the time! +It's the New Haven, George, that P'pa left me two years ago. I can't +understand anything about it, but yesterday I was talking to a young man +who advised me to put all my money into some tonic stock. It's a tonic +made just of plain earth--he says it makes everything grow. Doesn't +it sound reasonable? But if I should lose all I have, I'm afraid I'd +_really_ wear my welcome out, Genevieve, dear. So perhaps you'll advise +me?" + +"I'll do what I can!" George smiled, and Genevieve's heart rose. "But +upon my word, what you both tell me isn't a strong argument for Betty's +cause!" he added good-naturedly. + +"P'pa always said," Emelene quoted, "that if a woman looked about for a +man to advise her, she'd find him! And as I sit here now, in this lovely +home, I think--isn't it sweeter and wiser and better this way? For a +while,--because I was a hot-headed, rebellious girl!--I couldn't see +that he was right. I had had a disappointment, you know," she went on, +her kind, mild eyes watering. Genevieve, who had been gazing in +some astonishment at the once hot-headed, rebellious girl, sighed +sympathetically. Every one knew about the Reverend Mr. Totter's death. + +"And after that I just wanted to be busy," continued Emelene. "I wanted +to be a trained nurse, or a matron, or something! I look back at it now, +and wonder what I was thinking about! And then dear Mama went, and I +stepped into her place with P'pa. He wasn't exactly an invalid, but he +did like to be fussed over, to have his meals cooked by my own hands, +even if we were in a hotel. And whist--dear me, how I used to dread +those three rubbers every evening! I was only a young woman then, and +I suppose I was attractive to other men, but I never forgot Mr. Totter. +And Cousin George," she turned to him submissively, "when you were +talking about a woman's real sphere, I felt--well, almost guilty. +Because only that one man ever asked me. Do you think, feeling as I did, +that I should have deliberately made myself attractive to men?" + +George cleared his throat. "All women can't marry, I suppose. It's in +England, I believe, that there are a million unmarried women. But you +have made a contented and a womanly life for yourself, and, as a matter +of fact, there always _has_ been a man to stand between you and the +struggle!" he said. + +"I know. First P'pa, and now you!" Emelene mused happily. + +"I wasn't thinking of myself. I was thinking that your father left you a +comfortable income!" he said quickly. + +"And now you have asked me here; one of the dearest old places in town!" +Emelene added innocently. + +Genevieve listened in a stupefaction. This was married life, then? Not +since her childhood had Genevieve so longed to stamp, to scream, to +protest, to tear this twisted scheme apart and start anew! + +She was not a crying woman, but she wanted to cry now. She was not--she +told herself indignantly--quite a fool. But she felt that if George went +on being martyred, and mechanically polite, and grim, she would go into +hysterics. She had been married less than six weeks; that night she +cried herself to sleep. + +Her guests were as agreeable as their natures permitted; but Genevieve +was reduced, before the third day of their visit, to a condition of +continual tears. + +This was her home, this was the place sacred to George and herself, and +their love. Nobody in the world,--not his mother, not hers, had their +mothers been living!--was welcome here. She had planned to be such a +good wife to him, so thoughtful, so helpful, so brave when he must be +away. But she could not rise to the height of sharing him with other +women, and saying whatever she said to him in the hearing of witnesses. +And then she dared not complain too openly! That was an additional +hardship, for if George insulted his guests, then that horrid Penny-- + +Genevieve had always liked Penny, and had danced and flirted with him +aeons ago. She had actually told Betty that she hoped Betty would marry +Penny. But now she felt that she loathed him. He was secretly laughing +at George, at George who had dared to take a stand for old-fashioned +virtue and the purity of the home! + +It was all so unexpected, so hard. Women everywhere were talking about +George's article, and expected her to defend it! George, she could have +defended. But how could she talk about a subject upon which she was not +informed, in which, indeed, as she was rather fond of saying, she was +absolutely uninterested? + +George was changed, too. Something was worrying him; and it was hard on +the darling old boy to come home to Miss Emelene and the cat and Eleanor +and Alys, every night! Emelene adored him, of course, and Alys was +always interesting and vivacious, but--but it wasn't like coming home to +his own little Genevieve! + +The bride wept in secret, and grew nervous and timid in manner. Mrs. +Brewster-Smith, however, found this comprehensible enough, and one hot +summer afternoon Genevieve went into George's office with her lovely +head held high, her color quite gone, and her breath coming quickly with +indignation. [Illustration: It was hard on the darling old boy to come +home to Miss Emelene and the cat and Eleanor and Alys every night!] +"George--I don't care what we do, or where we go! But I can't stand it! +She said--she said--she told me--" + +Her husband was alone in his office, and Genevieve was now crying in his +arms. He patted her shoulder tenderly. + +"I'm so worried all the time about dinners, and Lottie's going, and that +child getting downstairs and letting in flies and licking the frosting +off the maple cake," sobbed Genevieve, "that of _course_ I show it! And +if I _have_ given up my gym work, it's just because I was so busy trying +to get some one in Lottie's place! And now they say--they say--that +_they_ know what the matter is, and that I mustn't dance or play +golf--the horrible, spying cats! I won't go back, George, I will not! +I--" + +Again George was wonderful. He put his arm about her, and she sat +down on the edge of his desk, and leaned against that dear protective +shoulder and dried her eyes on one of his monogrammed handkerchiefs. He +reminded her of a long-standing engagement for this evening with Betty +and Penny, to go out to Sea Light and have dinner and a swim, and drive +home in the moonlight. And when she was quiet again, he said tenderly: + +"You mustn't let the 'cats' worry you, Pussy. What they think isn't +true, and I don't blame you for getting cross! But in one way, dear, +aren't they right? Hasn't my little girl been riding and driving and +dancing a little too hard? Is it the wisest thing, just now? You have +been nervous lately, dear, and excitable. Mightn't there be a reason? +Because I don't have to tell you, sweetheart, nothing would make me +prouder, and Uncle Martin, of course, has made no secret of how _he_ +feels! You wouldn't be sorry, dear?" + +Genevieve had always loved children deeply. Long before this her +happy dreams had peopled the old house in Sheridan Road with handsome, +dark-eyed girls, and bright-eyed boys like their father. + +But, to her own intense astonishment, she found this speech from her +husband distasteful. George would be "proud," and Uncle Martin pleased. +But it suddenly occurred to Genevieve that neither George nor Uncle +Martin would be tearful and nervous. Neither George nor Uncle Martin +need eschew golf and riding and dancing. To be sick, when she had always +been so well! To face death, for which she had always had so healthy a +horror! Cousin Alex had died when her baby came, and Lois Farwell had +never been well after the fourth Farwell baby made his appearance. + +Genevieve's tears died as if from flame. She gently put aside the +sustaining arm, and went to the little mirror on the wall, to straighten +her hat. She remembered buying this hat, a few weeks ago, in the +ecstatic last days of the old life. + +"We needn't talk of that yet, George," she said quietly. + +She could see George's grieved look, in the mirror. There was a short +silence in the office. + +Then Betty Sheridan, cool in pongee, came briskly in. + +"Hello, Jinny!" said she. "Had you forgotten our plan tonight? +You're chaperoning me, I hope you realize! I'm rather difficile, too. +Genevieve, Pudge is outside; he'll take you out and buy you something +cold. I took him to lunch today. It was disgraceful! Except for a +frightful-looking mess called German Pot Roast With Carrots and Noodles +Sixty, he ate nothing but melon, lemon-meringue pie, and pineapple +special. I was absolutely ashamed! George, I would have speech with +you." + +"Private business, Betty?" he asked pleasantly. "My wife may not have +the vote, but I trust her with all my affairs!" + +"Indeed, I'm not in the least interested!" Genevieve said saucily. + +She knew George was pleased with her as she went happily away. + +"It's just as well Jinny went," said Betty, when she and the +district-attorney-elect were alone. "Because it's that old bore Colonel +Jaynes! He's come again, and he says he _will_ see you!" + +Deep red rose in George's handsome face. + +"He came here last week, and he came yesterday," Betty said, sitting +down, "and really I think you should see him! You see, George, in that +far-famed article of yours, you remarked that 'a veteran of the civil +as well as the Spanish war' had told you that it was the restless +outbreaking of a few northern women that helped to precipitate the +national catastrophe, and he wants to know if you meant him!" + +"I named no names!" George said, with dignity, yet uneasily, too. + +"I know you didn't. But you see we haven't many veterans of _both_ +wars," Betty went on, pleasantly. "And of course old Mrs. Jaynes is a +rabid suffragist, and she is simply hopping. He's a mild old man, +you know, and evidently he wants to square things with 'Mother.' Now, +George, who _did_ you mean?" + +"A statement like that may be made in a general sense," George remarked, +after scowling thought. + +"You might have made the statement on your own hook," Betty conceded, +"but when you mention an anonymous Colonel, of course they all sit up! +He says that he's going to get a signed statement from you that _he_ +never said that, and publish it!" + +"Ridiculous!" said George. + +"Then here are two letters," Betty pursued. "One is from the +corresponding secretary of the Women's Non-partisan Pacific Coast +Association. She says that they would be glad to hear from you regarding +your statement that equal suffrage, in the western states, is an +acknowledged failure." + +"She'll wait!" George predicted grimly. + +"Yes, I suppose so. But she's written to our Mrs. Herrington here, +asking her to follow up the matter. George, dear," asked Betty +maternally, "_why_ did you do it? Why couldn't you let well enough +alone!" + +"What's your other letter?" asked George. + +"It's just from Mr. Riker, of the _Sentinel_, George. He wants you to +drop in. It seems that they want a correction on one of your statistics +about the number of workingwomen in the United States who don't want +the vote. He says it only wants a signed line from you that you were +mistaken--" + +Refusing to see Colonel Jaynes, or to answer the Colonel's letter, +George curtly telephoned the editor of the _Sentinel_, and walked home +at four o'clock, his cheeks still burning, his mind in a whirl. Big +issues should have been absorbing him: and his mind was pestered instead +with these midges of the despised cause. Well, it was all in the day's +work-- + +And here was his sweet, devoted wife, fluttering across the hall, as +cool as a rose, in her pink and white. And she had packed his things, +in case they wanted to spend the night at Sea Light, and the "cats" had +gone off for library books, and he must have some ginger-ale, before it +was time to go for Betty and Penny. + +The day was perfection. The motor-car purred like a racing tiger under +George's gloved hand. Betty and Penny were waiting, and the three young +persons forgot all differences, and laughed and chatted in the old happy +way, as they prepared for the start. But Betty was carrying a book: +_Catherine of Russia_. + +"Do you know why suffragists should make an especial study of queens, +George?" she asked, as she and Penny settled themselves on the back +seat. + +"Well, I'll be interlocutor," George smiled, glancing up at the house, +from which his wife might issue at any moment. "Why should suffragists +read the lives of queens, Miss Bones?" + +"Because queens are absolutely the only women in all history who had +equal rights!" Betty answered impassively. "Do you realize that? The +only women whose moral and social and political instincts had full +sway!" + +"And a sweet use they made of them, sometimes!" said George. + +"And who were the great rulers," pursued Betty. "Whose name in English +history is like the names of Elizabeth and Victoria, or Matilda or Mary, +for the matter of that? Who mended and conserved and built up what the +kings tore down and wasted? Who made Russia an intellectual power--" + +Again Penny had an odd sense of fear. Were women perhaps superior to +men, after all! + +"I don't think Catherine of Russia is a woman to whom a lady can point +with pride," George said conclusively. Genevieve, who had appeared, shot +Betty a triumphant glance as they started. Pudge waved to them from the +candy store at the corner. + +"There's a new candy store every week!" said Penny, shuddering. "Heaven +help that poor boy; it must be in the blood!" + +"Women must always have something sweet to nibble," George said, leaning +back. "The United States took in two millions last year in gum alone!" + +"Men chew gum!" suggested Betty. + +"But come now, Betty, be fair!" George said. "Which sex eats more +candy?" + +"Well, I suppose women do," she admitted. + +"You count the candy stores, down Main Street," George went on, "and ask +yourself how it is that these people can pay rents and salaries just on +candy,--nothing else. Did you ever think of that?" + +"Well, I could vote with a chocolate in my mouth!" Betty muttered +mutinously, as the car turned into the afternoon peace of the main +thoroughfare. + +"You count them on your side, Penny, and I will on mine!" Genevieve +suggested. "All down the street." "Well, wait--we've passed two!" Penny +said excitedly. + +"Go on; there's three. That grocery store with candy in the window!" + +"Groceries don't count!" objected Betty. + +"Oh, they do, too! And drug stores.... Every place that sells candy!" + +"Drug stores and groceries and fruit stores only count half a point," +Betty stipulated. "Because they sell other things!" + +"That's fair enough," George conceded here, with a nod. + +Genevieve and Penny almost fell out of the car in their anxiety not +to miss a point, and George quite deliberately lingered on the +cross-streets, so that the damning total might be increased. + +Laughing and breathless, they came to the bridge that led from the town +to the open fields, and took the count. + +"One hundred and two and a half!" shouted Penny and Genevieve +triumphantly. George smiled over his wheel. + +"Oh, women, women!" he said. "One hundred and sixty-one!" said Betty. +There was a shout of protest. + +"Oh, Betty Sheridan! You didn't! Why, we didn't miss _one_!" + +"I wasn't counting candy stores," smiled Betty. "Just to be different, +I counted cigar stores and saloons. But it doesn't signify much either +way, does it, George?" + + + + +CHAPTER VI. BY HENRY KITCHELL WEBSTER + + +Of the quartette who, an hour later, emerged from the bath-houses +and scampered across the satiny beech into a discreetly playful surf, +Genevieve was the one real swimmer. She was better even than Penny, and +she left Betty and George nowhere. + +She had an endless repertory of amphibious stunts which she performed +with gusto, and in the intervals she took an equal satisfaction in +watching Penny's heroic but generally disastrous attempts to imitate +them. + +The other two splashed around aimlessly and now and then remonstrated. + +Now, it's all very well to talk about two hearts beating as one, and +in the accepted poetical sense of the words, of course Genevieve's and +George's did. But as a matter of physiological fact, they didn't. At the +end of twenty minutes or so George began turning a delicate blue and a +clatter as of distant castanets provided an obligato when he spoke, the +same being performed by George's teeth. + +The person who made these observations was Betty. + +"You'd better go out," she said. "You're freezing." + +It ought to have been Genevieve who said it, of course, though the fact +that she was under water more than half the time might be advanced as +her excuse for failing to say it. But who could venture to excuse the +downright callous way in which she exclaimed, "Already? Why we've just +got in! Come along and dive through that wave. That'll warm you up!" + +It was plain to George that she didn't care whether he was cold or not. +And, though the idea wouldn't quite go into words, it was also clear to +him that an ideal wife--a really womanly wife--would have turned blue +just a little before he began to. + +"Thanks," he said, in a cold blue voice that matched the color of his +finger nails. "I think I've had enough." + +Betty came splashing along beside him. + +"I'm going out, too," she said. "We'll leave these porpoises to their +innocent play." + +This was almost pure amiability, because she wasn't cold, and she'd been +having a pretty good time. Her other (practically negligible) motive +was that Penny might be reminded, by her withdrawal, of his forgotten +promise to teach her to float--and be sorry. Altogether, George would +have been showing only a natural and reasonable sense of his obligations +if he'd brightened up and flirted with her a little, instead of glooming +out to sea the way he did, paying simply no attention to her at all. So +at last she pricked him. + +"Isn't it funny," she said, "the really blighting contempt that swimmers +feel for people who can't feel at home in the water--people who gasp and +shiver and keep their heads dry?" + +She could see that, in one way, this remark had done George good. It +helped warm him up. Leaning back on her hands, as she did, she could see +the red come up the back of his neck and spread into his ears. But it +didn't make him conversationally any more exciting. He merely grunted. +So she tried again. + +"I suppose," she said dreamily, "that the myth about mermaids must +be founded in fact. Or is it sirens I'm thinking about? Perfectly +fascinating, irresistible women, who lure men farther and farther out, +in the hope of a kiss or something, until they get exhausted and drown. +I'll really be glad when Penny gets back alive." + +"And I shall be very glad," said George, trying hard for a tone of +condescending indifference appropriate for use with one who has played +dolls with one's little sister, "I shall really be very glad when you +make up your mind what you are going to do with Penny. He's just about +a total loss down at the office as it is, and he's getting a worse idiot +from day to day. And the worst of it is, I imagine you know all the +while what you're going to do about it--whether you're going to take him +or not." + +The girl flushed at that. He was being almost too outrageously rude, +even for George. But before she said anything to that effect, she +thought of something better. + +"I shall never marry any man," she said very intensely, "whose heart +is not with the Cause. You know what Cause I mean, George--the Suffrage +Cause. When I see thoughtless girls handing over their whole lives to +men who..." + +It sounded like the beginning of an oration. + +"Good Lord!" her victim cried. "Isn't there anything else than that to +talk about--_ever_?" + +"But just think how lucky you are, George," she said, "that at home they +all think exactly as you do!" + +He jumped up. Evidently this reminder of the purring acquiescences of +Cousin Emelene and Mrs. Brewster-Smith laid no balm upon his harassed +spirit. + +"You may leave my home alone, if you please." + +He was frightfully annoyed, of course, or he wouldn't have said anything +as crude as that. In a last attempt to recover his scattered dignity, +he caught at his office manner. "By the way," he said, "you forgot +to remind me today to write a letter to that Eliot woman about Mrs. +Brewster-Smith's cottages." + +With that he stalked away to dress. Genevieve and Penny, now shoreward +bound, hailed him. But it wasn't quite impossible to pretend he didn't +hear, and he did it. + +The dinner afterward at the Sea Light Inn was a rather gloomy affair. +George's lonely grandeur was only made the worse, it seemed, by +Genevieve's belated concern lest he might have taken cold through not +having gone and dressed directly he came out of the water. Genevieve +then turned very frosty to Penny, having decided suddenly that it was +all his fault. + +As for Betty, though she was as amiable a little soul as breathed, she +didn't see why she should make any particular effort to console Penny, +just because his little flirtation with Genevieve had stopped with a +bump. + +Even the ride home in the moonlight didn't help much. Genevieve sat +beside George on the front seat, and between them there stretched a +tense, tragic silence. In the back seat with Penfield Evans, and in the +intervals of frustrating his attempts to hold her hand, Betty considered +how frightfully silly young married couples could be over microscopic +differences. + +But Betty was wrong here and the married pair on the front seat were +right. + +Just reflect for a minute what Genevieve's George was. He was her +knight, her Bayard, her thoroughly Tennysonian King Arthur. The basis of +her adoration was that he should remain like that. You can see then +what a staggering experience it was to have caught herself, even for a +minute, in the act of smiling over him as sulky and absurd. + +And think of George's Genevieve! A saint enshrined, that his soul could +profitably bow down before whenever it had leisure to escape from the +activities of a wicked world. Fancy his horror over the mere suspicion +that she could be indifferent to his wishes--his comfort--even his +health, because of a mere tomboy flirtation with a man who could swim +better than he could! Most women were like that, he knew--vain, shallow, +inconstant creatures! But was not his pearl an exception? It was +horrible to have to doubt it. + +By three o'clock the next morning, after many tears and much grave +discourse, they succeeded in getting these doubts to sleep--killing +them, they'd have said, beyond the possibility of resurrection. It was +the others who had made all the trouble. If only they could have the +world to themselves--no Cousin Emelene, no Alys Brewster-Smith, no +Penfield Evans and Betty Sheridan, with their frivolity and low ideals, +to complicate things! An Arcadian Island in some Aeonian Sea. + +"Well," he said hopefully, "our home can be like that. It shall be like +that, when we get rid of Alys and her horrible little girl, and Cousin +Emelene and her unspeakable cat. It shall be our world; and no troubles +or cares or worries shall ever get in there!" + +She acquiesced in this prophecy, but even as she did so, cuddling her +face against his own, a low-down, unworthy spook, whose existence in +her he must never suspect, said audibly in her inner ear, "Much he knows +about it!" Betty did not forget to remind George of the letter he was +to write to Miss Eliot about taking over the agency of Mrs. +Brewster-Smith's cottages. In the composition of this letter George +washed his hands of responsibility with, you might say, antiseptic care. + +He had taken pleasure in recommending Miss Eliot, he explained, and Mrs. +Brewster-Smith was acting on his recommendation. Any questions arising +out of the management of the property should be taken up directly with +her client. Miss Eliot would have no difficulty in understanding that +the enormous pressure of work which now beset him precluded him from +having anything more to do with the matter. + +The letter was typed and inclosed in a big linen envelope, with the mess +of papers Alys had dumped upon his desk a few days previously, and it +was despatched forthwith by the office boy. + +"There," said George on a note of grim satisfaction, "that's done!" + +The grimness lasted, but the satisfaction did not. Or only until +the return of the office boy, half an hour later, with the identical +envelope and a three-line typewritten note from Miss Eliot. She was +sorry to say, she wrote, that she did not consider it advisable to +undertake the agency for the property in question. Thanking him, +nevertheless, for his courtesy, she was his very truly, E. Eliot. + +George summoned Betty by means of the buzzer, and asked her, with icy +indignation, what she thought of that. But, as he was visibly bursting +with impatience to say what _he_ thought of it, she gave him the +opportunity. + +"I thought you advanced women," he said, "were supposed to stand by each +other--stand by all women--try to make things better for them. One for +all--all for one. That sort of thing. But it really works the other way. +It's just because a woman owns those cottages that Miss Eliot won't have +anything to do with them. She knows that women are unreasonable and hard +to get on with in business matters, so she passes the buck! Back to a +man, if you please, who hasn't any more real responsibility for it than +she has." + +There was, of course, an obvious retort to this; namely, that business +was business, and that a business woman had the same privilege a +business man had, of declining a job that looked as if it would entail +more bother than it was worth. But Betty couldn't quite bring herself +to take this line. Women, if they could ever get the chance (through +the vote and in other ways), were going to make the world a better +place--run it on a better lot of ideals. It wouldn't do to begin +justifying women on the ground that they were only doing what men did. +As well abandon the whole crusade right at the beginning. + +George saw her looking rather thoughtful, and pressed his advantage. +Suppose Betty went and saw Miss Eliot personally, sometime today, and +urged her to reconsider. The business didn't amount to much, it was +true, and it no doubt involved the adjustment of some troublesome +details. But unless Miss Eliot would undertake it, he wouldn't know just +where to turn. Alys had quarreled with Allen, and Sampson was a skate. +And perhaps a little plain talk to Alys about the condition of the +cottages--"from one of her own sex," George said this darkly and looked +away out of the window at the time--might be productive of good. + +"All right," Betty agreed, "I'll see what I can do. It's kind of hard to +go to a woman you barely know by sight, and talk to her about her duty, +but I guess I'm game. If you can spare me, I'll go now and get it over +with." + +There were no frills about Edith Eliot's real estate office, though the +air of it was comfortably busy and prosperous. + +The place had once been a store. An architect's presentation of an +apartment building, now rather dusty, occupied the show-window. There +was desk accommodation for two or three of those bright young men who +make a selection of keys and take people about to look at houses; there +was a stenographer's desk with a stenographer sitting at it; and back +of a table in the corner, in the attitude of one making herself as +comfortable as the heat of the day would permit, while she scowled over +a voluminous typewritten document, was E. Eliot herself. It was almost +superfluous to mention that her name was Edith. She never signed it, and +there was no one, in Whitewater anyway, who called her by it. + +She was a big-boned young woman (that is, if you call the middle +thirties young), with an intelligent, homely face, which probably got +the attraction some people surprisingly found in it from the fact that +she thought nothing about its looks one way or the other. It was rather +red when Betty came in, and she was making it rapidly redder with the +vigorous ministrations of a man's-size handkerchief. + +She greeted Betty with a cordial "how-de-doo," motioned her to the other +chair at the table (Betty had a fleeting wish that she might have dusted +it before she sat down), and asked what she could do for her. + +"I'm from Mr. Remington's office," Betty said, "Remington and Evans. +He wrote you a note this morning about some cottages that belong to a +cousin of his, Mrs. Brewster-Smith." + +"I answered that note by his own messenger," said E. Eliot. "He should +have got the reply before this." "Oh, he got it," said Betty, "and +was rather upset about it. What I've come for, is to urge you to +reconsider." + +E. Eliot smiled rather grimly at her blotting-pad, looked up at Betty, +and allowed her smile to change its quality. What she said was not +what she had meant to say before she looked up. E. Eliot was always +upbraiding herself for being sentimental about youth and beauty in her +own sex. She'd never been beautiful, and she'd never been young--not +young like Betty. But the upbraidings never did any good. + +She said: "I thought I had considered sufficiently when I answered Mr. +Remington's note. But it's possible I hadn't. What is it you think I may +have overlooked?" + +"Why," said Betty, "George thought the reason you wouldn't take the +cottages was because a woman owned them. He used it as a sort of example +of how women wouldn't stick together. He said that you probably knew +that women were unreasonable and hard to deal with and didn't want the +bother." + +It disconcerted Betty a little that E. Eliot interposed no denial at +this point, though she'd paused to give her the opportunity. + +"You see," she went on a little breathlessly, "I'm for women suffrage +and economic independence and all that. I think it's perfectly wonderful +that you should be doing what you are--showing that women can be just +as successful in business as men can. Of course I know that you've got +a perfect _right_ to do just what a man would do--refuse to take a piece +of business that wasn't worth while. But--but what we hope is, and what +we want to show men is, that when women get into politics and business +they'll be better and less selfish." + +"Which do you mean will be better?" E. Eliot inquired. "The politics and +the business, or the women?" + +"I mean the politics and the business," Betty told her rather frostily. +Was the woman merely making fun of her? + +E. Eliot caught the note. "I meant my question seriously," she said. "It +has a certain importance. But I didn't mean to interrupt you. Go ahead." +"Well," Betty said, "that's about all. George--Mr. Remington--that +is--is running for district attorney, and he has come out against +suffrage as you know. I thought perhaps this was a chance to convert +him a little. It would be a great favor to him, anyway, if you took +the cottages; because he doesn't know whom to turn to, if you won't. I +didn't come to try to tell you what your duty is, but I thought perhaps +you hadn't just looked at it that way." + +"All right," said E. Eliot. "Now I'll tell you how I do look at it. In +the first place, about doing business for women. It all depends on the +woman you're doing business with. If she's had the business training +of a man, she's as easy to deal with as a man. If she's never had any +business training at all, if business doesn't mean anything to her +except some vague hocus-pocus that produces her income, then she's seven +kinds of a Tartar. + +"She has no more notion about what she has a right to expect from other +people, or what they've a right to expect from her, than a white Angora +cat. Of course, the majority of women who have property to attend to +have had it dumped on their hands in middle life, or after, by the wills +of loving husbands. Those women, I'll say frankly, are the devil and all +to deal with. But it's their husbands' and fathers' fault, and not their +own. Anyhow, that isn't the reason I wouldn't take those cottages. + +"It was the cottages themselves, and not the woman who owned them, that +decided me. That whole Kentwood district is a disgrace to civilization. +The sanitary conditions are filthy; have been for years. The owners have +been resisting condemnation proceedings right along, on the ground +that the houses brought in so little rental that it would be practical +confiscation to compel them to make any improvements. Now, since the +war boon struck the mills, and every place with four walls and a roof is +full, they're saying they can't afford to make any change because of the +frightful loss they'd suffer in potential profits. + +"Well, when you agree to act as a person's agent, you've got to act in +that person's interest; and when it's a question of the interest of the +owners of those Kentwood cottages, whether they're men or women, my idea +was that I didn't care for the job." + +"I think you're perfectly right about it," Betty said. "I wouldn't +have come to urge you to change your mind, if I had understood what the +situation was. But," here she held out her hand, "I'm glad I did come, +and I wish we might meet again sometime and get acquainted and talk +about things." + +"No time like the present," said E. Eliot. "Sit down again, if you've +got a minute." She added, as Betty dropped back into her chair, "You're +Elizabeth Sheridan, aren't you?--Judge Sheridan's daughter? And you're +working as a stenographer for Remington and Evans?" + +Betty nodded and stammered out the beginning of an apology for not +having introduced herself earlier. But the older woman waved this aside. + +"What I really want to know," she went on, "if it isn't too outrageous +a question, is what on earth you're doing it for--working in that law +office, I mean?" + +It was a question Betty was well accustomed to answering. But coming +from this source, it surprised her into a speechless stare. + +"Why," she said at last, "I do it because I believe in economic +independence for women. Don't you? But of course you do." + +"I don't know," said E. Eliot. "I believe in food and clothes, and money +to pay the rent, and the only way I have ever found of having those +things was to get out and earn them. But if ever I make money enough to +give me an independent income half the size of what yours must be, I'll +retire from business in short order." + +"Do you know," said Betty, "I don't believe you would. I think you're +mistaken. I don't believe a woman like you could live without working." + +"I didn't say I'd quit working," said E. Eliot. "I said I'd quit +business. That's another thing. There's plenty of real work in the world +that won't earn you a living. Lord! Don't I see it going by right here +in this office! There are things I just itch to get my hands into, and +I have to wait and tell myself 'some day, perhaps!' There's a thing I'd +like to do now, and that's to take a hand in this political campaign for +district attorney. It would kill my business deader than Pharaoh's aunt, +so I've got to let it go. But it would certainly put your friend George +Remington up a tall tree." + +"Oh, you're a suffragist, then?" Betty exclaimed eagerly. "I was +wondering about that. I've never seen you at any of our meetings." + +"I'm a suffragist, all right," said E. Eliot, "but as your meetings are +mostly held in the afternoons, when I'm pretty busy, I haven't been able +to get 'round. + +"I'm curious about Remington," she went on. "I've known him a little, +for years. When I worked for Allen, I used to see him quite often in the +office. And I'd always rather liked him. So that I was surprised, clear +down to the ground, when I read that statement of his in the _Sentinel_. +I'd never thought he was _that_ sort. And from the fact that you work in +his office and like him well enough to call him George one might almost +suppose he wasn't." + +Clearly Betty was puzzled. "Of course," she said, "I think his views +about women are obsolete and ridiculous. But I don't see what they've +got to do with liking him or not, personally." + +E. Eliot's smile became grim again, but she said nothing, so Betty asked +a direct question. + +"That was what you meant, wasn't it?" + +"Yes," the other woman said, "that was what I meant. Why, if you don't +mind plain speaking, it's been my observation that the sort of men +who think the world is too indecent for decent women to go out into, +generally have their own reasons for knowing how indecent it is; and +that when they spring a line of talk like that, they're being sickening +hypocrites into the bargain." + +Betty's face had gone flame color. + +"George isn't like that at all," she said. "He's--he's really fine. He's +old-fashioned and sentimental about women, but he isn't a hypocrite. He +really means those things he says. Why..." + +And then Betty went on to tell her new friend about Cousin Emelene and +Alys Brewster-Smith, and how George, though he writhed, had stood the +gaff. + +"A grown-up man," E. Eliot summed up, "who honestly believes that women +are made of something fine and fragile, and that they ought to be kept +where even the wind can't blow upon them! But good heavens, child, if +he really means that, it makes it all the better for what I was thinking +of. You don't understand, of course. I hadn't meant to tell you, but +I've changed my mind. + +"Listen now. That statement in the _Sentinel_ has set the town talking, +of course, and stirred up a lot of feeling, for and against suffrage. +But what it would be worth as an issue to go to the mat with on election +day, is exactly nothing at all. You go out and ask a voter to +vote against a candidate for district attorney because he's an +anti-suffragist, and he'll say, 'What difference does it make? It isn't +up to him to give women the vote. It doesn't matter to me what his +private opinions are, as long as he makes a good district attorney!' But +there is an issue that we _can_ go to the mat with, and so far it hasn't +been raised at all. There hasn't been a peep." She reached over and laid +a hand on Betty's arm. + +"Do you know what the fire protection laws for factories are? And do you +know that it's against the law for women to work in factories at night? +Well, and do you know what the conditions are in every big mill in this +town? With this boom in war orders, they've simply taken off the lid. +Anything goes. The fire and building ordinances are disregarded, and for +six months the mills have been running a night shift as well as a day +shift, on Sundays and week-days, and three-quarters of their operatives +are women. Those women go to work at seven o'clock at night, and quit at +six in the morning; and they have an hour off from twelve to one in the +middle of the night. + +"Now do you see? It's up to the district attorney to enforce the law. +Isn't it fair to ask this defender of the home whether he believes that +women should be home at night or not, and if he does, what he's going +to do about it? Talk about slogans! The situation bristles with them! +We could placard this town with a lot of big black-faced questions that +would make it the hottest place for George Remington that he ever found +himself in. + +"Well, it would be pretty good campaign work if he was the hypocrite +I took him to be, from his stuff in the _Sentinel_. But if he's on the +level, as you think he is, there's a chance--don't you see there's a +chance that he'd come out flat-footed for the enforcement of the law? +And if he did!... Child, can you see what would happen if he _did_?" + +Betty's eyes were shining like a pair of big sapphires. When she spoke, +it was in a whisper like an excited child. + +"I can see a little," she said. "I think I can see. But tell me." + +"In the first place," said E. Eliot, "see whom he'd have against him. +There'd be the best people, to start with. Most of them are stockholders +in the mills. Why, you must be, yourself, in the Jaffry-Bradshaw +Company! Your father was, anyway." + +Betty nodded. + +"You want to be sure you know what it means," the older woman went on. +"This thing might cut into your dividends, if it went through." + +"I hope it will," said Betty fiercely. "I never realized before that my +money was earned like that--by women, girls of my age, standing over a +machine all night." She shivered. "And there are some of us, I'm sure," +she went on, "who would feel the way I do about it." + +"Well,--some," E. Eliot admitted. "Not many, though. And then there are +the merchants. These are great times for them--town crammed with people, +all making money, and buying right and left. And then there's the labor +vote itself! A lot of laboring men would be against him. Their women +just now are earning as much as they are. There are a lot of these +men--whatever they might say--who'd take good care not to vote for a man +who would prevent their daughters from bringing in the fifteen, twenty, +or twenty-five dollars a week they get for that night work. + +"Well, and who would be with him? Why, the women themselves. The one +chance on earth he'd have for election would be to have the women +organized and working for him, bringing every ounce of influence they +had to bear on their men--on all the men they knew. + +"Mind you, I don't believe he could win at that. But, win or lose, he'd +have done something. He'd have shown the women that they needed the +vote, and he'd have found out for himself--he and the other men who +believe in fair human treatment for everybody--that they can't secure +that treatment without women's votes. That's the real issue. It isn't +that women are better than men, or that they could run the world +better if they got the chance. It's that men and women have got to work +together to do the things that need doing." + +"You're perfectly wonderful," said Betty, and sat thereafter, for +perhaps a minute and a half, in an entranced silence. + +Then, with a shake of the head, a straightening of the spine, and a +good, deep, business-like preliminary breath, she turned to her new +friend and said, "Well, shall we do it?" + +This time it was E. Eliot's turn to gasp. + +She hadn't expected to have a course of action put up to her in that +instantaneous and almost casual manner. She wasn't young like Betty. +She'd been working hard ever since she was seventeen years old. She'd +succeeded, in a way, to be sure. But her success had taught her how hard +success is to obtain. She saw much farther into the consequences of +the proposed campaign than Betty could see. She realized the bitter +animosity that it would provoke. She knew it was well within the +probabilities that her business would be ruined by it. + +She sat there silent for a while, her face getting grimmer and grimmer +all the time. But she turned at last and looked into the eager face of +the girl beside her, and she smiled,--though even the smile was grim. + +"All right," she said, holding out her hand to bind the bargain. "We'll +start and we'll stick. And here's hoping! We'd better lunch together, +hadn't we?" + + + + +CHAPTER VII. BY ANNE O'HAGAN + + +Mr. Benjamin Doolittle, by profession White-water's leading furniture +dealer and funeral director, and by the accident of political fortune +the manager of Mr. George Remington's campaign, sat in his candidate's +private office, and from time to time restrained himself from hasty +speech by the diplomatic and dexterous use of a quid of tobacco. + +He found it difficult to preserve his philosophy in the face of George +Remington's agitation over the woman's suffrage issue. + +"It's the last time," he had frequently informed his political cronies +since the opening of the campaign, "that I'll wet-nurse a new-fledged +candidate. They've got at least to have their milk teeth through if they +want Benjamin Doolittle after this." To George, itchingly aware through +all his rasped nerves of Mrs. Herrington's letter in that morning's +_Sentinel_ asking him to refute, if he could, an abominable half column +of statistics in regard to legislation in the Woman Suffrage States, the +furniture dealer was drawling pacifically: + +"Now, George, you made a mistake in letting the women get your goat. +Don't pay no attention to them. Of course their game's fair enough. I +will say that you gave them their opening; stood yourself for a target +with that statement of yours. Howsomever, you ain't obligated to keep on +acting as the nigger head in the shooting gallery. + +"Let 'em write; let 'em ask questions in the papers; let 'em heckle you +on the stump. All that you've got to say is that you've expressed your +personal convictions already, and that you've stood by those convictions +in your private life, and that as you ain't up for legislator, the +question don't really concern your candidacy. And that, as you're +running for district attorney, you will, with their kind permission, +proceed to the subjects that do concern you there--the condition of the +court calendar of Whitewater County, the prosecution of the racetrack +gamblers out at Erie Oval, and so forth, and so forth. + +"You laid yourself open, George, but you ain't obligated in law or +equity to keep on presenting yourself bare chest for their outrageous +slings and arrows." + +"Of course, what you say about their total irrelevancy is quite true," +said George, making the concession so that it had all the belligerency +of a challenge. "But of course I would never have consented to run for +office at the price of muzzling my convictions." + +Mr. Doolittle wearily agreed that that was more than could be expected +from any candidate of the high moral worth of George Remington. Then +he went over a list of places throughout the county where George was to +speak during the next week, and intimated dolefully that the committee +could use a little more money, if it had it. + +He expressed it thus: "A few more contributions wouldn't put any strain +to speak of on our pants' pockets. Anything more to be got out of Old +Martin Jaffry? Don't he realize that blood's thicker than water?" + +"I'll speak to him," growled George. + +He hated Mr. Benjamin Doolittle's colloquialisms, though once he had +declared them amusing, racy, of the soil, and had rebuked Genevieve's +fastidious criticisms of them on an occasion when she had interpreted +her role of helpmeet to include that of hostess to Mr. and Mrs. +Doolittle--oh, not in her own home, of course!--at luncheon, at the +Country Club! + +"Well, I guess that's about all for today." + +Mr. Doolittle brought the conference to a close, hoisting himself by +links from his chair. + +"It takes $3000 every time you circularize the constituency, you +know----" + +He lounged toward the window and looked out again upon the pleasant, +mellow scene around Fountain Square. And with the look his affectation +of bucolic calm dropped from him. He turned abruptly. + +"What's that going on at McMonigal's corner?" he demanded sharply. "I +don't know, I am sure," said George, with indifference, still bent upon +teaching his manager that he was a free and independent citizen, in +leading strings to no man. "It's been vacant since the fire in March, +when Petrosini's fish market and Miss Letterblair's hat st----" + +He had reached the window himself by this time, and the sentence was +destined to remain forever unfinished. + +From the low, old-fashioned brick building on the northeast corner of +Fountain Square, whose boarded eyes had stared blindly across toward the +glittering orbs of its towering neighbor, the Jaffry Building, for six +months, a series of great placards flared. + +Planks had been removed from the windows, plate glass restored, and +behind it he read in damnable irritation: + +"SOME QUESTIONS FOR CANDIDATE REMINGTON." + +A foot high, an inch broad, black as Erebus, the letters shouted at him +against an orange background. Every window of the second story contained +a placard. On the first story, in the show window where Petrosini had +been wont to ravish epicurean eyes by shad and red snapper, perch and +trout, cunningly imbedded in ice blocks upon a marble slab--in that +window, framed now in the hated orange and black, stood a woman. + +She was turning backward, for the benefit of onlookers who pressed close +to the glass, the leaves of a mammoth pad resting upon an easel. + +From their point of vantage in the second story of the Jaffry Building, +the candidate and his manager could see that each sheet bore that horrid +headline: + +"QUESTIONS FOR CANDIDATE REMINGTON." + +The whole population of White water, it seemed to George, was crowded +about that corner. + +"I'll be back in a minute," said Benjie Doolittle, disappearing through +the private office door with the black tails of his coat achieving +a true horizontal behind him. As statesman and as undertaker, Mr. +Doolittle never swerved from the garment which keeps green the memory of +the late Prince Consort. + +As the door opened, the much-tried George Remington had a glimpse of +that pleasing industrial unit, Betty Sheridan, searching through the +file for the copy of the letter to the Cummunipaw Steel Works, which +he had recently demanded to see. He pressed the buzzer imperiously, and +Betty responded with duteous haste. He pointed through the window to the +crowd in front of McMonigal's block. + +"Perhaps," he said, with what seemed to him Spartan self-restraint, +"_you_ can explain the meaning of that scene." + +Betty looked out with an air of intelligent interest. + +"Oh yes!" she said vivaciously. "I think I can. It's a Voiceless +Speech." + +"A voice l--" George's own face was a voiceless speech as he repeated +two syllables of his stenographer's explanation. + +"Yes. Don't you know about voiceless speeches? It's antiquated to try to +run any sort of a campaign without them nowadays." + +"Perhaps you also know who that--female--" again George's power of +utterance failed him. Betty came closer to the window and peered out. + +"It's Frances Herrington who is turning the leaves now," she said +amiably. "I know her by that ducky toque." + +"Frances Herrington! What Harvey Herrington is thinking of to allow----" +George's emotion constrained him to broken utterance. "And we're +dining there tonight! She has no sense of the decencies--the--the--the +hospitality of existence. We won't go--I'll telephone Genevieve----" + +"Fie, fie Georgie!" observed Betty. "Why be personal over a mere detail +of a political campaign?" + +But before George could tell her why his indignation against his +prospective hostess was impersonal and unemotional, the long figure of +Mr. Doolittle again projected itself upon the scene. + +Betty effaced herself, gliding from the inner office, and George turned +a look of inquiry upon his manager. + +"Well?" the monosyllable had all the force of profanity. + +"Well, the women, durn them, have brought suffrage into your campaign." + +"How?" + +"How? They've got a list of every blamed law on the statute books +relating to women and children, and they're asking on that sheet of +leaves over there, if you mean to proceed against all who are breaking +those laws here in Whitewater County. And right opposite your own +office! It's--it's damn smart. You ought to have got that Herrington +woman on your committee." + +"It's indelicate, unwomanly, indecent. It shows into what unsexed +degradation politics will drag woman. But I'm relieved that that's all +they're asking. Of course, I shall enforce the law for the protection of +every class in our community with all the power of the----" + +"Oh, shucks! There's nobody here but me--you needn't unfurl Old Glory," +counseled Mr. Doolittle, a trifle impatiently. "They're asking real +questions, not blowing off hot-air. Oh, I say, who owns McMonigal's +block since the old man died? We'll have the owner stop this circus. +That's the first thing to do." + +"I'll telephone Allen. He'll know." + +Allen's office was very obliging and would report on the ownership on +McMonigal's block in ten minutes. + +Mr. Doolittle employed the interval in repeating to George some of the +"Questions for Candidate Remington," illegible from George's desk. + +"You believe that 'WOMAN'S PLACE IS IN THE HOME.' Will you enforce the +law against woman's night work in the factories? Over nine hundred women +of Whitewater County are doing night work in the munition plants of +Airport, Whitewater and Ondegonk. What do you mean to do about it?" + +"You 'DESIRE TO CONSERVE THE THREATENED FLOWER OF WOMANHOOD.'" + +A critical listener would have caught a note of ribald scorn in Mr. +Doolittle's drawl, as he quoted from his candidate's statement, via the +voiceless speech placards. + +"To conserve the threatened flower of womanhood, the grape canneries of +Omega and Onicrom Townships are employing children of five and six +years in defiance of the Child Labor Law of this State. Are you going to +proceed against them?" + +"'WOMAN IS MAN'S RAREST HERITAGE.' Do you think man ought to burn her +alive? Remember the Livingston Loomis-Ladd collar factory fire--fourteen +women killed, forty-eight maimed. In how many of the factories in +Whitewater, in which women work, are the fire laws obeyed? Do you mean +to enforce them?" + +The telephone interrupted Mr. Doolittle's hateful litany. + +Alien's bright young man begged to report that McMonigal's block was +held in fee simple by the widow of the late Michael McMonigal. + +Mr. Doolittle juggled the leaves of the telephone directory with the +dazzling swiftness of a Japanese ball thrower, and in a few seconds he +was speaking to the relict of the late Michael. + +George watched him with fevered eyes, listened with fevered ears. The +conversation, it was easy to gather, did not proceed as Mr. Doolittle +wished. + +"Oh! in entire charge--E. Eliot. Oh! In sympathy yourself. Oh, come now, +Mrs. McMonigal----" + +But Mrs. McMonigal did not come now. The campaign manager frowned as he +replaced the receiver. + +"Widow owns the place. That Eliot woman is the agent. The suffrage gang +has the owner's permission to use the building from now on to election. +She says she's in sympathy. Well, we'll have to think of something----" + +"It's easy enough," declared George. "I'll simply have a set of posters +printed answering their questions. And we'll engage sandwich men to +carry them in front of McMonigal's windows. Certainly I mean to enforce +the law. I'll give the order to the _Sentinel_ press now for the +answers--definite, dignified answers." "See here, George." Mr. Doolittle +interrupted him with unusual weightiness of manner. "It's too far along +in the campaign for you to go flying off on your own. You've got +to consult your managers. This is your first campaign; it's my +thirty-first. You've got to take advice----" + +"I will not be muzzled." + +"Shucks! Who wants to muzzle, anybody! But you can't say everything +that's inside of you, can you? There's got to be some choosing. We've +got to help you choose. + +"The silly questions the women are displaying over there--you can't +answer 'em in a word or in two words. This city is having a boom; every +valve factory in the valley, every needle and pin factory, is makin' +munitions today--valves and needles and pins all gone by the board for +the time being. Money's never been so plenty in Whitewater County +and this city is feelin' the benefits of it. People are buying +things--clothes, flour, furniture, victrolas, automobiles, rum. + +"There ain't a merchant of any description in this county but his +business is booming on account of the work in the factories. You can't +antagonize the whole population of the place. Why, I dare say, some of +your own money and Mrs. Remington's is earning three times what it was +two years ago. The First National Bank has just declared a fifteen +per cent. dividend, and Martin Jaffry owns fifty-four per cent. of the +stock. + +"You don't want to put brakes on prosperity. It ain't decent citizenship +to try it. It ain't neighborly. Think of the lean years we've known. You +can't do it. This war won't last forever--" Mr. Doolittle's voice was +tinged with regret--"and it will be time enough to go in for playing the +deuce with business when business gets slack again. That's the time for +reforms, George,--when things are dull." + +George was silent, the very presentment of a sorely harassed young man. +He had not, even in a year when blamelessness rather than experience +was his party's supreme need in a candidate, become its banner bearer +without possessing certain political apperceptions. He knew, as Benjie +Doolittle spoke, that Benjie spoke the truth--White-water city and +county would never elect a man who had too convincingly promised to +interfere with the prosperity of the city and county. + +"Better stick to the gambling out at Erie Oval, George," counseled the +campaign manager. "They're mostly New Yorkers that are interested in +that, anyway." + +"I'll not reply without due consideration and--er--notice," George +sullenly acceded to his manager and to necessity. But he hated both +Doolittle and necessity at the moment. + +That sun-bright vision of himself which so splendidly and sustainingly +companioned him, which spoke in his most sonorous periods, which so +completely and satisfyingly commanded the reverence of Genevieve--that +George Remington of his brave imaginings would not thus have answered +Benjamin Doolittle. + +Through the silence following the furniture man's departure, Betty, at +the typewriter, clicked upon Georgie's ears. An evil impulse assailed +him--impolitic, too, as he realized--impolitic but irresistible. It was +the easiest way in which candidate Remington, heckled by suffragists, +overridden by his campaign committee, mortifyingly tormented by a +feeling of inadequacy, could re-establish himself in his own esteem as a +man of prompt and righteous decisions. + +He might not be able to run his campaign to suit himself, but, by Jove, +his office was his own! + +He went into Betty's quarters and suggested to her that a due sense +of the eternal fitness of things would cause her to offer him her +resignation, which his own sense of the eternal fitness of things would +lead him at once to accept. + +It seemed, he said, highly indecorous of her to remain in the employ of +Remington and Evans the while she was busily engaged in trying to thwart +the ambitions of the senior partner. He marveled that woman's boasted +sensitiveness had not already led her to perceive this for herself. + +For a second, Betty seemed startled, even hurt. She colored deeply and +her eyes darkened. Then the flush of surprise and the wounded feeling +died. She looked at him blankly and asked how soon it would be possible +for him to replace her. She would leave as soon as he desired. + +In her bearing, so much quieter than usual, in the look in her face, +George read a whole volume. He read that up to this time, Betty had +regarded her presence in the ranks of his political enemies as she would +have regarded being opposed to him in a tennis match. He read that he, +with that biting little speech which he already wished unspoken, had +given her a sudden, sinister illumination upon the relations of working +women to their employers. + +He read the question in the back of her mind. Suppose (so it ran in his +constructive fancy) that instead of being a prosperous, protected young +woman playing the wage-earner more or less as Marie Antoinette had +played the milkmaid, she had been Mamie Riley across the hall, whose +work was bitter earnest, whose earnings were not pin-money, but bread +and meat and brother's schooling and mother's health--would George still +have made the stifling of her views the price of her position? + +And if George--George, the kind, friendly, clean-minded man would drive +that bargain, what bargain might not other men, less gentle, less noble, +drive? + +All this George's unhappily sensitized conscience read into Betty +Sheridan's look, even as the imp who urged him on bade him tell her that +she could leave at her own convenience; at once, if she pleased; the +supply of stenographers in Whitewater was adequately at demand. + +He rather wished that Penny Evans would come in; Penny would doubtless +take a high hand with him concerning the episode, and there was nothing +which George Remington would have welcomed like an antagonist of his own +size and sex. + +But Penny did not appear, and the afternoon passed draggingly for the +candidate for the district attorneyship. He tried to busy himself with +the affairs of his clients, but even when he could keep away from his +windows he was aware of the crowds in front of McMonigal's block, of +Frances Herrington, her "ducky" toque and her infernal voiceless speech. + +And when, for a second, he was able to forget these, he heard from the +outer office the unmistakable sounds of a desk being permanently cleared +of its present incumbent's belongings. + +After a while, Betty bade him a too courteous good-by, still with that +abominable new air of gravely readjusting her old impressions of him. +And then there was nothing to do but to go home and make ready for +dinner at the Herrington's, unless he could induce Genevieve to have an +opportune headache. + +Of course Betty had been right. Not upon his masculine shoulders should +there be laid the absurd burden of political chagrin strong enough to +break a social engagement. + +Genevieve was in her room. The library was given over to Alys +Brewster-Smith, Cousin Emelene Brand, two rusty callers and the +tea things. Before the drawing-room fire, Hanna slept in Maltese +proprietorship. George longed with passion to kick the cat. + +Genevieve, as he saw through the open door, sat by the window. She had, +it appeared, but recently come in. She still wore her hat and coat; she +had not even drawn off her gloves. And seeing her thus, absorbed in some +problem, George's sense of his wrongs grew greater. + +He had, he told himself, hurried home out of the jar and fret of a man's +day to find balm, to feel the cool fingers of peace pressed upon hot +eyelids, to drink strengthening draughts of refreshment from his wife's +unquestioning belief, from the completeness of her absorption in him. +And here she sat thinking of something else! + +Genevieve arose, a little startled as he snapped on the lights +and grunted out something which optimism might translate into an +affectionate husbandly greeting. She came dutifully forward and raised +her face, still exquisite and cool from the outer air, for her lord's +home-coming kiss. That resolved itself into a slovenly peck. + +"Been out?" asked George unnecessarily. He tried to quell the +unreasonable inclination to find her lacking in wifely devotion because +she had been out. + +"Yes. There was a meeting at the Woman's Forum this afternoon," she +answered. She was unpinning her hat before the pier glass, and in it +he could see the reflection of her eyes turned upon his image with a +questioning look. + +"The ladies seem to be having a busy day of it." + +He struggled not quite successfully to be facetious over the pretty, +negligible activities of his wife's sex. "What mighty theme engaged your +attention?" + +"That Miss Eliot--the real estate woman, you know--" George stiffened +into an attitude of close attention--"spoke about the conditions under +which women are working in the mills in this city and in the rest of the +county--" Genevieve averted her mirrored eyes from his mirrored face. +She moved toward her dressing-table. + +"Oh, she did! and is the Woman's Forum going to come to grips with +the industrial monster and bring in the millennium by the first of the +year?" + +But George was painfully aware that light banter which fails to be +convincingly light is but a snarl. + +Genevieve colored slightly as she studied the condition of a pair of +long white gloves which she had taken from a drawer. + +"Of course the Woman's Forum is only for discussion," she said mildly. +"It doesn't initiate any action." Then she raised her eyes to his face +and George felt his universe reel about him. + +For his wife's beautiful eyes were turned upon him, not in limpid +adoration, not in perfect acceptance of all his views, unheard, +unweighed; but with a question in their blue depths. + +The horrid clairvoyance which harassment and self-distrust had given +him that afternoon enabled him, he thought, to translate that look. +The Eliot woman, in her speech before the Woman's Forum, had doubtless +placed the responsibility for the continuation of those factory +conditions upon the district attorney's office, had doubtless repeated +those damn fool, impractical questions which the suffragists were +displaying in McMonigal's windows. + +And Genevieve was asking them in her mind! Genevieve was questioning +him, his motives, his standards, his intentions! Genevieve was not +intellectually a charming mechanical doll who would always answer "yes" +and "no" as he pressed the strings, and maintain a comfortable vacuity +when he was not at hand to perform the kindly act. Genevieve was +thinking on her own account. What, he wondered angrily, as he +dressed--for he could not bring himself to ask her aid in escaping +the Herringtons and, indeed, was suddenly balky at the thought of the +intimacies of a domestic evening--_what_ was she thinking? She was not +such an imbecile as to be unaware how large a share of her comfortable +fortune was invested in the local industry. Why, her father had been +head of the Livingston Loomis-Ladd Collar Company, when that dreadful +fire--! And she certainly knew that his uncle, Martin Jaffry, was the +chief stockholder in the Jaffry-Bradshaw Company. + +What was the question in Genevieve's eyes? Was she asking if he were the +knight of those women who worked and sweated and burned, or of her and +the comfortable women of her class, of Alys Brewster-Smith with +her little cottages, of Cousin Emelene with her little stocks, of +masquerading Betty Sheridan whose sortie of independence was from the +safe vantage-grounds of entrenched privilege? + +And all that evening as he watched his wife across the crystal and the +roses of the Herrington table, trying to interpret the question that had +been in her eyes, trying to interpret her careful silence, he realized +what every husband sooner or later awakes to realize--that he had +married a stranger. + +He did not know her. He did not know what ambitions, what aspirations +apart from him, ruled the spirit behind that charming surface of flesh. + +Of course she was good, of course she was tender, of course she was +high-minded! But how wide-enveloping was the cloak of her goodness? +How far did her tenderness reach out? Was her high-mindedness of the +practical or impractical variety? + +From time to time, he caught her eyes in turn upon him, with that +curious little look of re-examination in their depths. She could look at +him like that! She could look at him as though appraisals were possible +from a wife to a husband! + +They avoided industrial Whitewater County as a topic when they left +the Herrington's. They talked with great animation and interest of the +people at the party. Arrived at home, George, pleading press of work, +went down into the library while Genevieve went to bed. Carefully they +postponed the moment of making articulate all that, remaining unspoken, +might be ignored. + +It was one o'clock and he had not moved a paper for an hour, when the +library door opened. + +Genevieve stood there. She had sometimes come before when he had worked +at night, to chide him for neglecting sleep, to bring bouillon or +chocolate. But tonight she did neither. + +She did not come far into the room, but standing near the door and +looking at him with a new expression--patient, tender, the everlasting +eternal look--she said: "I couldn't sleep, either. I came down to say +something, George. Don't interrupt me----" for he was coming toward +her with sounds of affectionate protest at her being out of bed. +"Don't speak! I want to say--whatever you do, whatever you +decide--now--always--I love you. Even if I don't agree, I love you." + +She turned and went swiftly away. + +George stood looking at the place where she had stood,--this strange, +new Genevieve, who, promising to love, reserved the right to judge. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. BY MARY HEATON VORSE + + +The high moods of night do not always survive the clear, cold light of +day. Indeed it requires the contribution of both man and wife to keep a +high mood in married life. + +Genevieve had gone in to make her profession of faith to her husband +in a mood which touched the high altitudes. She had gone without any +conscious expectation of anything from him in the way of response. She +had vaguely but confidingly expected him to live up to the moment. + +She had expected something beautiful, a lovely flower of the +spirit--comprehension, generosity. Living up to the demand of the moment +was George's forte. Indeed, there were those among his friends who felt +that there were moments when George lived up to things too brightly +and too beautifully. His Uncle Jaffry, for instance, had his openly +skeptical moments. But George even lived up to his uncle's skepticism. +He accepted his remarks with charming good humor. It was his pride that +he could laugh at himself. + +At the moment of Genevieve's touching speech he lived up to exactly +nothing. He didn't even smile. He only stared at her--a stare which +said: + +"Now what the devil do you mean by that?" + +Genevieve had a flicker of bitter humor when she compared her moment of +sentiment to a toy balloon pulled down from the blue by an unsympathetic +hand. + +The next morning, while George was still shaving, the telephone rang. It +was Betty. + +"Can you have lunch with me at Thorne's, where we can talk?" she asked +Genevieve. "And give me a little time tomorrow afternoon?" + +"Why," Genevieve responded, "I thought you were a working girl." + +There was a perceptible pause before Betty replied. + +"Hasn't George told you?" "Told what?" Genevieve inquired. "George +hasn't told me anything." + +"I've left the office." + +"Left! For heaven's sake, why?" + +Betty's mind worked swiftly. + +"Better treat it as a joke," was her decision. There was no pause before +she answered. + +"Oh, trouble with the boss." + +"You'll get over it. You're always having trouble with Penny. + +"Oh," said Betty, "it's not with Penny this time." + +"Not with George?" + +"Yes, with George," Betty answered. "Did you think one couldn't quarrel +with the noblest of his sex? Well, one can." + +"Oh, Betty, I'm sorry." Genevieve's tone was slightly reproachful. + +"Well, I'm not," said Betty. "I like my present job better. It was a +good thing he fired me." + +"_Fired_ you! George fired _you_?" + +"Sure thing," responded Betty blithely. "I can't stand here talking all +day. What I want to know is, can I see you at lunch?" + +"Yes--why, yes, of course," said Genevieve, dazedly. Then she hung up +the receiver and stared into space. + +George, beautifully dressed, tall and handsome, now emerged from his +room. For once his adoring wife failed to notice that in appearance +he rivaled the sun god. She had one thing she wanted to know, and she +wanted to know it badly. It was, + +"Why did you fire Betty Sheridan?" + +She asked this in the insulting "point of the bayonet" tone which angry +equals use to one another the world over. + +Either question or tone would have been enough to have put George's +already sensitive nerves on edge. Both together were unbearable. It was, +when you came down to it, the most awkward question in the world. + +Why, indeed, had he fired Betty Sheridan? He hadn't really given +himself an account of the inward reasons yet. The episode had been too +disturbing; and it was George's characteristic to put off looking on +unpleasant facts as long as possible. Had he been really hard up, which +he never had been, he would undoubtedly have put away, unopened, the +bills he couldn't pay. Life was already presenting him with the bill of +yesterday's ill humor, and he was not yet ready to add up the amount. He +hid himself now behind the austerity of the offended husband. + +"My dear," he inquired in his turn, "don't you think that you had best +leave the details of my office to me?" + +He knew how lame this was, and how inadequate, before Genevieve replied. + +"Betty Sheridan is not a detail of your office. She's one of my best +friends, and I want to know why you fired her. I dare say she was +exasperating; but I can't see any reason why you should have done it. +You should have let her leave." + +It was Betty, with that lamentable lack of delicacy which George had +pointed out to her, who had not been ready to leave. + +"You will have to let me be the judge of what I should or should not +have done," said George. This piece of advice Genevieve ignored. + +"Why did you send her away?" she demanded. + +"I sent her away, if you want to know, for her insolence and her damned +bad taste. If you think--working in my office as she was--it's decent or +proper on her part to be active in a campaign that is against me----" + +"You mean because she's a suffragist? You sent her away for _that_! Why, +really, that's _tyranny_! It's like my sending away some one working for +me for her beliefs----" + +They stood staring at each other, not questioningly as they had +yesterday, but as enemies,--the greater enemies that they so loved each +other. + +Because of that each word of unkindness was a doubled-edged sword. They +quarreled. It was the first time that they had seen each other without +illusion. They had been to each other the ideal, the lover, husband, +wife. + +Now, in the dismay of his amazement in finding himself quarreling with +the perfect wife, a vagrant memory came to George that he had heard +that Genevieve had a hot temper. She certainly had. He didn't notice +how handsome she looked kindled with anger. He only knew that the rose +garden in which they lived was being destroyed by their angry hands; +that the very foundation of the life they had been leading was being +undermined. + +The time of mirage and glamour was over. He had ceased being a hero and +an ideal, and why? Because, forgetting his past life, his record, his +achievement, Genevieve obstinately insisted on identifying him with one +single mistake. He was willing to concede it was a mistake. She had not +only identified him with it, but she had called him a number of wounding +things. + +"Tyrant" was the least of them, and, worse than that, she had, in a +very fury of temper, told him that he "needn't take that pompous"--yes, +"pompous" had been her unpleasant word--"tone" with her, when he +had inquired, more in sorrow than in anger, if this were really his +Genevieve speaking. + +There was a pause in their hostilities. They looked at each other +aghast. Aghast, they had perceived the same awful truth. Each saw that +love [Illustration: "You mean because she's a suffragist? You sent her +away for _that_? Why, really, that's _tyranny_!"] in the other's heart +was dead, and that things never could be the same again. So they stood +looking down this dark gulf, and the light of anger died. + +In a toneless voice: "We mustn't let Cousin Emelene and Alys hear us +quarreling," said George. And Genevieve answered, "They've gone down to +breakfast." + +The two ladies were seated at table. + +"We heard you two love birds cooing and billing, and thought we might +as well begin," said Alys Brewster-Smith. "Regularity is of the highest +importance in bringing up a child." + +Cousin Emelene was reading the _Sentinel._ George's quick eye glanced at +the headlines: + +_Candidate Remington Heckled by Suffragists. Ask Him Leading Questions._ + +"Why, dear me," she remarked, her kind eyes on George, "it's perfectly +awful, isn't it, that they break the laws that way just for a little +more money. But I don't see why they want to annoy dear George. They +ought to be glad they are going to get a district attorney who'll put +all those things straight. I think it's very silly of them to ask him, +don't you, Genevieve?" + +"Let me see," said Genevieve, taking the paper. + +"All he's got to do, anyway, is to answer," pursued Cousin Emelene. + +"Yes, that's all," replied Genevieve, her melancholy gaze on George. +Yesterday she would have had Emelene's childlike faith. But this +stranger, who, for a trivial and tyrannical reason, had sent away +Betty--how would _he_ act? + +"They showed these right opposite your windows?" she questioned. + +"Yes," he returned. "Our friend Mrs. Herrington did it herself. It was +the first course of our dinner. If you think that's good taste--" + +"I would expect it of her," said Alys Brewster-Smith. + +"But it makes it so easy for George," Emelene repeated. "They'll know +now what sort of a man he is. Little children at work, just to make a +little more money--it's awful!" + +"Talking about money, George," said Alys, "have you seen to my houses +yet?" "Not yet," replied the harassed George. "You'll have to excuse my +going into the reasons now. I'm late as it is." + +His voice had not the calm he would have wished for. As he took his +departure, he heard Alys saying, + +"If you'll let me, my dear, I'd adore helping you about the +housekeeping. I don't want to stay here and be a burden. If you'll just +turn it over to me, I could cut your housekeeping expenses in half." + +"Damn the women," was the unchivalrous thought that rose to George's +lips. + +One would have supposed that trouble had followed closely enough on +George Remington's trail, but now he found it awaiting him in his +office. + +Usually, Penny was the late one. It was this light-hearted young man's +custom to blow in with so engaging an expression and so cheerful a +manner that any comment on his unpunctuality was impossible. Today, +instead of a gay-hearted young man, he looked more like a sentencing +judge. + +What he wanted to know was, + +"What have you done to Betty Sheridan? Do you mean to say that you had +the nerve to send her away, send her out of my office without consulting +me--and for a reason like that? How did you think I was going to feel +about it?" + +"I didn't think about you," said George. + +"You bet you didn't. You thought about number one and your precious +vanity. Why, if one were to separate you from your vanity, one couldn't +see you when you were going down the street. Go on, make a frock coat +gesture! Play the brilliant but outraged young district attorney. Do you +know what it was to do a thing of that kind--to fire a girl because she +didn't agree with you?" + +"It wasn't because she didn't agree with me," George interrupted, with +heat. + +"It was the act of a cad," Penny finished. "Look here, young man, I'm +going to tell you a few plain truths about yourself. You're not the sort +of person that you think you are. You've deceived yourself the way other +people are deceived about you--by your exterior. But inside of that +good-looking carcass of yours there's a brain composed of cheese. You +weren't only a cad to do it--you were a fool!" "You can't use that tone +to me!" cried George. + +"Oh, can't I just? By Jove, it's things like that that make one wake up. +Now I know why women have a passion for suffrage. I never knew before," +Penny went on, with more passion than logic. "You had a nerve to make +that statement of yours. You're a fine example of chivalry. You let +loose a few things when you wrote that fool statement, but you did a +worse trick when you fired Betty Sheridan. God, you're a pinhead--from +the point of view of mere tactics. Sometimes I wonder whether you've +_any_ brain." + +George had turned white with anger. + +"That'll just about do," he remarked. + +"Oh, no, it won't," said Penny. "It won't do at all. I'm not going to +remain in a firm where things like this can happen. I wouldn't risk my +reputation and my future. You're going to do the decent thing. You're +going to Betty Sheridan and tell her what you think of yourself. She +won't come back, I suppose, but you might ask her to do that, too. And +now I'm going out, to give you time to think this over. And tonight +you can tell me what you've decided. And then I'll tell you whether I'm +going to dissolve our partnership. Your temper's too bad to decide +now. Maybe when you've done that she won't treat me like an unsavory +stranger." + +He left, and George sat down to gloomy reflection. + +To do him justice, the idea of apologizing to Betty had already occurred +to him. If he put off the day of reckoning, when the time came he would +pay handsomely. He realized that there was no use in wasting energy and +being angry with Penny. He looked over the happenings of the last few +hours and the part he had played in them, and what he saw failed to +please him. He saw himself being advised by Doolittle to concentrate on +the Erie Oval. He heard him urging him not to be what Doolittle called +unneighborly. The confiding words of Cousin Emelene rang in his ears. + +He saw himself, in a fit of ill-temper, discharging Betty. He saw +Genevieve, lovely and scornful, urging him to be less pompous. All this, +he had to admit, he had brought on himself. Why should he have been so +angry at these questions? Again Emelene's remark echoed in his ear. He +had only to answer them--and he was going to concentrate on the Erie +Oval! + +There came a knock on the door, and a breezy young woman demanded, + +"D'you want a stenographer?" + +George wanted a stenographer, and wanted one badly. He put from him the +whole vexed question in the press of work, and by lunch time he made up +his mind to have it out with Betty. There was no use putting it off, and +he knew that he could have no peace with himself until he did. He felt +very tired--as though he had been doing actual physical work. He thought +of yesterday as a land of lost content. But he couldn't find Betty. + +He bent his steps toward home, and as he did so affection for Genevieve +flooded his heart. He so wanted yesterday back--things as they had been. +He so wanted her love and her admiration. He wanted to put his tired +head on her shoulder. He couldn't bear, not for another moment, to be at +odds with her. + +He wondered what she had been doing, and how she had spent the morning. +He imagined her crying her heart out. He leaped up the steps and ran up +to his room. In it was Alys Brewster-Smith. She started slightly. + +"I was just looking for some cold cream," she explained. + +"Where's Genevieve?" George asked. + +"Oh, she's out," Alys replied casually. "She left a note for you." + +The note was a polite and noncommittal line informing George that +Genevieve would not be back for lunch. He felt as though a lump of ice +replaced his heart. His disappointment was the desperate disappointment +of a small boy. + +He went back to the gloomy office and worked through the interminable +day. Late in the afternoon Mr. Doolittle lounged heavily in. + +"Have some gum, George?" he inquired, inserting a large piece in his own +mouth. + +He chewed rhythmically for a space. George waited. He knew that chewing +gum was not the ultimate object of Mr. Doolittle's visit. + +"Don't women beat the Dutch?" he inquired at last. "Yes sir, mister; +they do!" + +"What's up now?" George inquired. "The suffragists again?" + +"Nope; not on the face of it they ain't. It's the Woman's Forum that's +doin' this. They've got a sweet little idea. 'Seein' Whitewater Sweat' +they call it. + +"They're goin' around in bunches of twos, or mebbe blocks o' five, +seein' all the sights; an' you know women ain't reasonable, an' you +can't reason with them. They're goin' to find a pile o' things they +won't like in this little burg o' ours, all right, all right. An' +they'll want to have things changed right off. I want to see things +changed m'self. I'd like to, but them things take time, an' that's what +women won't understand. + +"Jimminee, I've heard of towns all messed up and candidates ruined just +because the women got wrought up over tenement-house an' fire laws an' +truck like that. Yes sir, they're out seein' Whitewater this minut, or +will be if you can't divert their minds. Call 'em off, George, if you +can. Get 'em fussy about sumpen else." + +"Why, what have I to do with it?" George inquired. + +"Well, I didn't know but what you might have sumpen," said Mr. Doolittle +mildly. "It's that young lady that works here, Miss Sheridan, an' your +wife what's organizin' it. Planning it all out to Thorne's at lunch they +was, an' Heally was sittin' at the next table and beats it to me. You +can see for yerself what a hell of a mess they'll make!" + + + + +CHAPTER IX. BY ALICE DUER MILLER + + +It was a relief to both men when at this point the door of the office +opened and Martin Jaffry entered. + +Not since the unfortunate anti-suffrage statement of George's had Uncle +Martin dropped in like this. George, looking at him with that first +swift glance that often predetermines a whole interview, made up his +mind that bygones were to be bygones. He greeted his uncle with the +warmest cordiality. + +"Well, George," said Uncle Martin, "how are things going?" + +"I'm going to be elected, if that's what you mean," answered George. + +Doolittle gave a snort. "Indeed, are ye?" said he. "As a friend and +well-wisher, I'm sure I'm delighted to hear the news." "Do I understand +that you have your doubts, Mr. Doolittle?" Jaffry inquired mildly. + +"There's two things we need and need badly, Mr. Jaffry," said Doolittle. +"One's money--" + +"A small campaign contribution would not be rejected?" + +"But there's something we need more than money--and God knows I never +expected to say them words--and that's common sense." + +"Good," said Uncle Martin, "I have plenty of that, too!" + +"Then for the love of Mike pass some of it on to this precious nephew of +yours." + +"What seems to be the matter?" + +"It's them women," said Doolittle. + +Uncle Martin turned inquiringly to George: "The tender flowers?" he +suggested. + +"Look here, Uncle Martin," said George, who had had a good deal of this +sort of thing to bear, "I don't understand you. Do you believe in woman +suffrage?" + +Uncle Martin contemplated a new crumpling of his long-suffering cap +before he answered. "Yes and no, George. I believe in it in the same way +that I believe in old age and death. I can't avoid them by denying their +existence." + +"But you fight against them, and put them off as long as you can." + +"But I yield a little to them, too, George. What is it? Has Genevieve +become a convert to suffrage?" + +"Has Genevieve--has my wife----" + +Then George remembered that his uncle was an older man and that chivalry +is not limited to the treatment of the weaker sex. + +"No," he said with a calm hardly less magnificent than the tempest would +have been, "no, Uncle Martin, Genevieve has not become a suffragist." + +"Well," said Doolittle rising, as if such things were hardly worth his +valuable time, "I fail to see the difference between a suffragette an' a +woman who goes pokin' her nose into what----" + +"You're speaking of my wife, Mr. Doolittle," said George, with a +significant lighting of the eye. + +"Speakin' in general," said Doolittle. + +Uncle Martin was interested. "Has Genevieve been--well, we won't say +poking the nose--but taking a responsible civic interest where it would +be better if she didn't?" + +"It seems," answered George, casting an angry glance at his campaign +manager, "that Mr. Doolittle has heard from a friend of his who +overheard a conversation between Betty Sheridan and my wife at luncheon. +From this he inferred that the two were planning an investigation of +some of the city's problems." + +Uncle Martin looked relieved. + +"Oh, your wife and your stenographer. That can be stopped, I suppose, +without undue exertion." + +"Betty is no longer my stenographer." + +"Left, has she?" said Jaffry. "I had an idea she would not stay with you +long." + +This intimation was not agreeable to George. He would have liked to +explain that Miss Sheridan's departure had been dictated by the will +of the head of the firm; in fact he opened his mouth to do so. But the +remembrance that this would entail a long and wearisome exposition of +his reasons caused him to remain silent, and his uncle went on: "Well, +anyhow, you can get Genevieve to drop it." + +If Doolittle had not been there, George would have been glad to discuss +with his uncle, who had, after all, a sort of worldly shrewdness, how +far a man is justified in controlling his wife's opinions. But before an +audience now a trifle unsympathetic, he could not resist the temptation +of making the gesture of a man magnificently master in his own house. + +He smiled quite grandly. "I think I can promise that," he said. + +Doolittle got up slowly, bringing his jaws together in a relentless bite +on the unresisting gum. + +"Well," he said, "that's all there is to it." And he added significantly +as he reached the door, "If you kin _do_ it!" + +When the campaign manager had gone, Uncle Martin asked very, very +gently: "You don't feel any doubt of being able to do it, do you, +George?" + +"About my ability to control--I mean influence, my wife? I feel no doubt +at all." + +"And Penfield, I suppose, can tackle Betty? You won't mind my saying +that of the two I think your partner has the harder job." + +A slight cloud appeared upon the brow of the candidate. + +"I don't feel inclined to ask any favor of Penny just at present," he +said haughtily. "Has it ever struck you, Uncle Martin, that Penny has an +unduly emotional, an almost feminine type of mind?" + +"No," said the other, "it hasn't, but that is perhaps because I have +never been sure just what the feminine type of mind is." + +"You know what I mean," answered George, trying to conceal his +annoyance at this sort of petty quibbling. "I mean he is too personal, +over-excitable, irrational and very hard to deal with." + +"Dear me," said Jaffry. "Is Genevieve like that?" + +"Genevieve," replied her husband loyally, "is much better poised than +most women, but--yes,--even she--all women are more or less like that." + +"All women and Penny. Well, George, you have my sympathy. An excitable +partner, an irrational stenographer, and a wife that's very hard to deal +with!" + +"I never said Genevieve was hard to deal with," George almost shouted. + +"My mistake--thought you did," answered his uncle, now moving rapidly +away. "Let me know the result of the interview, and we'll talk over ways +and means." And he shut the door briskly behind him. + +George walked to the window, with his hands in his pockets. He always +liked to look out while he turned over grave questions in his mind; +but this comfort was now denied to him, for he could not help being +distracted by the voiceless speech still relentlessly turning its pages +in the opposite window. + +The heading now was: + +DOES THE FIFTY-FOUR-HOUR-A-WEEK LAW APPLY TO FLOWERS? + +He flung himself down on his chair with an exclamation. He knew he had +to think carefully about something which he had never considered before, +and that was his wife's character. + +Of course he liked to think about Genevieve--; of her beauty, her +abilities, her charms; and particularly he liked to think about her love +for him. + +A week ago he would have met the present situation very simply. He would +have put his arm about her and said: "My darling, I think I'd a little +rather you dropped this sort of thing for the present." And that would +have been enough. + +But he knew it would not be enough now. He would have to have a reason, +a case. + +"Heavens," he thought, "imagine having to talk to one's wife as if she +were the lawyer for the other side." + +He did not notice that he was reproaching Genevieve for being too +impersonal, too unemotional and not irrational enough. + +When he went home at five, he had thought it out. He put his head into +the sitting-room, where Alys was ensconced behind the tea-kettle. + +"Come in, George dear," she called graciously, "and let me give you a +really good cup of tea. It's some I've just ordered for you, and I think +you'll find it an improvement on what you've been accustomed to." George +shut the door again, pretending he had not heard; but he had had time +enough to note that dear little Eleanor was building houses out of his +most treasured books. + +The memory of his quarrel with his wife had been partly obliterated by +memories of so many other quarrels during the day that it was only when +he was actually standing in her room that he remembered how very bitter +their parting had been. + +He stood looking at her doubtfully, and it was she who came forward and +put her arms about him. They clung to each other like two children who +have been frightened by a nightmare. + +"We mustn't quarrel again, George," she said. "I've had a real, true, +old-fashioned pain in my heart all day. But I think I understand better +now than I did. I lunched with Betty and she made me see." + +"What did Betty make you see?" asked George nervously, for he had not +perfect confidence in Miss Sheridan's visions. + +"That it was all a question of efficiency. She said that in business a +man's stenographer is just an instrument to make his work easier, and if +for any reason at all that instrument does not suit him he is justified +in getting rid of it, and in finding one that does." + +"Betty is very generous," he said coldly. He wanted to hear his wife say +that she had not thought him pompous; it was very hard to be thankful +for a mere ethical rehabilitation. + +Part of his thought-out plan was that Genevieve must herself tell him +of the Woman's Forum's investigation; it would not do for him to let +her know he had heard of it through a political eavesdropper. So after a +moment he added casually: + +"And what else did Betty have to say?" + +"Nothing much." + +His heart sank. Was Genevieve becoming uncandid? + +"Nothing else," he said. "Just to justify me in your eyes?" + +She hesitated, "No, that was not quite all, but it is too early to talk +about it yet." + +"Anything that interests you, my dear, I should like to hear about from +the beginning." Perhaps Genevieve was not so unemotional after all, for +at this expression of his affection, her eyes filled with tears. + +"I long to tell you," she said. "I only hesitated on your account, but +of course I want all your help and advice. It's this: There seems to +be no doubt that the conditions under which women are working in +our factories are hideous--dangerous--the law is broken with perfect +impunity. I know you can't act on rumors and hearsay. Even the +inspectors don't give out the truth. And so we are going to persuade the +Woman's Forum to abandon its old policy of mere discussion. + +"We--Betty and I--are going to get the members for once to act--to make +an investigation; so that the instant you come into the office you will +have complete information at your disposal--facts, and facts and facts +on which you can act." + +She paused and looked eagerly at her husband, who remained silent. +Seeing this she went on: + +"I know what you're thinking. I thought of it myself. Am I justified in +using my position in the Woman's Forum to further your political career? +Well, my answer is, it isn't your political career, only; it's truth and +justice that will be furthered." + +Here in the home there was no voiceless speech to make the view +intolerable, and George moved away from his wife and walked to the +window. He looked out on his own peaceful trees and lawn, and on Hanna, +like a tiger in the jungle, stalking a competent little sparrow. + +A temptation was assailing George. Suppose he did put his opposition to +this investigation on a high and mighty ground? Suppose he announced a +moral scruple? But no, he cast Satan behind him. + +"Genevieve," he said, turning sharply toward her, "this question puts +our whole attitude to a test. If you and I are two separate individuals, +with different responsibilities, different interests, different +opinions, then we ought to be consistent; that ought to mean economic +independence of each other, and equal suffrage; it means that husband +and wife may become business competitors and political opponents. + +"But if, as you know I believe, a man and woman who love each other are +one, are a unit as far as society is concerned, why then our interests +are identical, and it is simply a question of which of us two is better +able to deal with any particular situation." + +"But that is what I believe, too, George." + +"I hoped it was, dear; I know it used to be. Then you must let me act +for you in this matter." + +"Yes, in the end; but an investigation--" + +"My darling, politics is not an ideal; it is a practical human +institution. Just at present, from the political point of view, such an +investigation would do me incalculable harm." + +"George!" + +He nodded. "It would probably lose me the election." + +"But why?" + +"Genevieve, am I your political representative or not?" + +"You are," she smiled at him, "and my dear love as well; but may I not +even know why?" + +"If you dismissed the cook, and I summoned you before me and bade you +give me your reasons for such an action, would you not feel in your +heart that I was disputing your judgment?" + +She looked at him honestly. "Yes, I should." + +"And I would not do such a discourteous thing to you. In the home you +are absolute. Whatever you do, whatever you decide, is right. I would +not dream of questioning. Will you not give me the same confidence in my +special department?" + +There was a short pause; then Genevieve held out her hand. + +"Yes, George," she said, "I will, but on one condition----" + +"_I_ did not make conditions, Genevieve." + +"You do not have to, my dear. You know that I am really your +representative in the house; that I am really always thinking of your +wishes. You must do the same as my political representative. I mean, if +I am not to do this work myself, you must do it for me." + +"Even if I consider it unwise?" + +"Unwise to protect women and children?" + +"Genevieve," he said seriously, as one who confides something not always +confided to women, "enforcing law sometimes does harm." + +"But an investigation----" + +"That's where you are ignorant, my dear. If an investigation is made, +especially if the women mix themselves up in it, then we shall have no +choice but enforcement." + +She had sunk down on her sofa, but now she sprang up. "And you don't +mean to enforce the law in respect of women? Is that why you don't want +the investigation?" + +"Not at all. You are most unjust. You are most illogical, Genevieve. All +I am asking is that the whole question should not be taken up at this +moment--just before election." + +"But this is the only moment when we can find out whether or not you are +a candidate who will do what we want." + +"_We_, Genevieve! Who do you mean by 'we'?" + +She stared for a second at him, her eyes growing large and dark with +astonishment. + +"Oh, George," she gasped finally, "I think I meant women when I said +'we.' George, I'm afraid I'm a _suffragist_. And oh," she added, with a +sort of wail, "I don't want to be, I don't want to be!" + +"Damn Betty Sheridan," exclaimed George. "This is all her doing." + +His wife shook her head. "No," she said, "it wasn't Betty who made me +see." + +"Who was it?" + +"It was you, George." + +"I don't understand you." + +"You made me see why women want to vote for themselves. How can you +represent me, when we disagree fundamentally?" + +"How can we disagree fundamentally when we love each other?" + +"You mean that because we love each other, I must think as you do?" + +"What else could I mean, darling?" + +"You might have meant that you would think as I do." + +George glanced at her in deep offense. + +"We have indeed drifted far apart," he said. + +At this moment there was a knock at the door, and the news was conveyed +to George that Mr. Evans was downstairs asking to see him. + +"Oh dear," said Genevieve, "it seems as if we never could get a moment +by ourselves nowadays. What does Penny want?" + +"He wants to tell me whether he intends to dissolve partnership or not." + +Any fear that his wife had disassociated herself from his interests +should have been dispelled by the tone in which she exclaimed: "Dissolve +partnership! Penny? Well, I never in my life! Where would Penny be +without you, I should like to know! He must be crazy." + +These words made George feel happier than anything that had happened to +him throughout this day. His self-esteem began to revive. + +"I think Penny has been a little hasty," he said, judicially but not +unkindly. "He lost all self-control when he heard I had let Betty go." + +"Isn't that like a man," said Genevieve, "to throw away his whole future +just because he loses his temper?" + +George did not directly answer this question, and his wife went on. +"However, it will be all right. He has seen Betty this afternoon, and +she won't let him do anything foolish." + +George glanced at her. "You mean that Betty will prevent his leaving the +firm?" + +"Of course she will." + +George walked to the door. + +"I seem to owe a good deal to my former stenographer," he said, "my +wife, my partner; next, perhaps it will be my election." + + + + +CHAPTER X. BY ETHEL WATTS MUMFORD + + +Penny, pacing the drawing-room with pantheresque strides, came to a +tense halt as Remington entered. + +"Well?" he said, his eyes hard, his unwelcoming hands thrust deep into +his pockets. + +That identical "well" with its uptilt of question had been on George's +tongue. It was a monosyllable that demanded an answer. Penny had got +ahead of him, forced him, as it were, into the witness chair, and he +resented it. + +"Seems to me," he began hotly, "that you were the one who was going to +make the statements--' whether or no,' I believe, we were to continue in +partnership." + +"Perhaps," retorted Penny, with the air of allowing no great importance +to that angle of the argument, "but what I want to know is, _are_ +you going to be a square man, and own up you were peeved into being +a tyrant? And when you've done that, are you going to tell Betty, and +apologize?" + +George hesitated, trapped between his irritation and the still small +voice. + +"Look here," he said, with that amiable suavity that had won him many a +concession, "you know well enough I don't want to hurt Betty's feelings. +If she feels that way about it, of course I'll apologize." + +His partner looked at him in blank amazement. + +"Gad!" he exclaimed as if examining a particularly fine specimen of some +rare beetle, "what a bounder." + +"Meaning me?" snapped George. + +"Don't dare to quibble. Look me in the eye." + +There was a third degree fatality about the usually debonair Penny that +exacted obedience. George unwillingly looked him in the eye, and had a +ghastly feeling of having his suddenly realized smallness X-rayed. + +"You know damned well you acted like a cad," Penny continued, "and I +want to know, for all our sakes, if you're man enough to own it?" + +George's fundamental honesty mastered him. Anger died from his eyes. His +clenched hands relaxed and began an unconscious and nervous exploration +for a cigarette. + +"Since you put it that way," he said, "and it happens that my conscience +agrees with you--I'll go you. I _was_ a cad, and I'll tell Betty so. +Confound it!" he growled, "I don't know _what's_ come over me these +days. I've got to get a grip on myself." + +"You _bet_ you have," said Penny, hauling his fists from his trousers as +if with an effort. Then he grinned. "Betty said you would." + +George's eyes darkened. + +"And I'll tell you now," Penny went on, "since you've turned out at +least half-decent, Betty'll let you off that apology thing. _She_ +wasn't the one who was exacting it--not she. _I_ couldn't stand for +your highfalutin excuses for being--well, never mind--we all get our off +days. But don't you get off again like that if----" Penny hesitated. +"If you want me for a partner," which seemed the obvious conclusion, was +tame. "If you want to hang on to any one's respect," he finished. + +"Say, though," he murmured, "Betty'll give me 'what for' for drubbing +you. She actually took your side--said--oh, never mind--tried to make +me think of her just as if she was any old Mamie--the stenog--tried to +prune out personal feeling." + +"By Jove," he ruminated, "that girl's a corker!" + +He raised forgiving eyes from his contemplation of the rug. + +"Well, old man, blow me to a Scotch and soda, and I'll be going. Dinged +if it wouldn't have broken me all up to have busted with you, even if +you are a box of prunes. Shake." + +George shook, but he was far from happy. What he had gained in peace of +mind he had lost in self-conceit. His resentment against the pinch of +circumstance was deepening to cancerous vindictiveness. + +As Pennington left with a cheery good-by and a final half-cynical word +of advice "to get onto himself" George mounted the stairs slowly and +came face to face with Genevieve, obviously in wait for him. + +"What happened?" she inquired, with an anxious glance at his corrugated +brow. + +George did not feel in a mood to describe his retreat, if not defeat. + +"Oh, nothing. We had a highball. I think I made him--well--it's all +right." + +"There, I knew Betty'd make him see reason," she smiled. "I'm awfully +glad. I've a real respect for Penny's judgment after all, you know." + +"Meaning, you have your doubts about mine." + +"No, meaning only just what I said--_just_ that. By the way, George, I +wish you'd take time to look into Alys' real estate. Somebody ought to, +and if you're really representing her----" + +"Oh, good heavens!" he exclaimed impatiently, angered by her swift +transition from his own to another's affairs. "I can't! I simply can't! +Haven't you any conception of how busy I am?" + +"I know, dear; I _do_ know. But something must be done. The Health +Department," she explained, "has sent in complaint after complaint, +and Miss Eliot simply won't handle the property unless she's allowed to +spend a lot setting things to rights. Alys says it's absurd; none of the +other property owners out there are doing anything, and _she_ won't. So, +nobody's looking after it, and somebody should." + +"Who told you all this?" he demanded. "Miss E. Eliot, I suppose." + +His wife nodded. "And she's right," she added. + +"Well, perhaps she is," he allowed. "I'll get Alien to act as her agent +again. He's in with all the politicians; he ought to be able to stall +off the department." + +The words slipped out before he realized their import, but at +Genevieve's wide stare of amazement he flushed crimson. "I mean--lots of +these complaints are really mere red tape; some self-important employee +is trying to look busy. A little investigation usually puts that +straight." + +"Of course," she acquiesced, and he breathed a sigh of relief. "That +happens, too, but Miss Eliot says that the conditions out there are +really dreadful." + +"I'll talk to Allen," said George with an affectation of easy dismissal +of the subject. + +But Genevieve's mind appeared to have grown suddenly persistent. +At dinner she again brought up the subject, this time directing her +troubled gaze and troubling words at her guest. + +"Alys," she said abruptly, "I really think you ought to go out to +Kentwood--to see about your property out there, I mean." + +Mrs. Brewster-Smith looked up, rolling her large eyes in frank +amazement. + +"Go out there? What for? It isn't the sort of a district a lady cares to +be seen in, I'm told; and, besides, George is looking after that for +me. _He_ understands such matters, and I frankly own _I_ don't. Business +makes me quite dizzy," she added with a flash of very white teeth. + +Genevieve hesitated, then went to the point. + +"But you must advise with your agent, Alys. The property is _yours_." + +Alys raised sharply penciled brows. "I have utter confidence in George," +she answered in a tone of finality that brought an adoring look from +Emelene, and her usual Boswellian echo: "Of _course_." + +George squirmed uneasily. Such a vote of confidence implied accepted +responsibility, and he acknowledged to himself that he wanted to and +would dodge the unwelcome burden. He turned a benign Jovian expression +on Mrs. Brewster-Smith and condescended to explain. + +"I have considered what is best for you, and I will myself see Allen and +request him to take your real-estate affairs in charge again. Neither +Sampson nor--er--Eliot is, I think, advisable for your best interests." + +At the mention of the last name Genevieve's expressive face stretched to +speak; then she closed her lips with self-controlled determination. Mrs. +Brewster-Smith looked at her host in scandalized amazement. + +"But I _told_ you," she almost whimpered, "that his wife is simply +impossible." + +George smiled tolerantly. "But his wife isn't doing the business. It's +the business, not the social interests, we have to consider. + +"Oh, but she is in the business," Alys explained. "I think it's because +she's jealous of him; she wants to be around the office and watch him." + +Genevieve interposed. "Mrs. Allen owns a lot of land herself, and she +looks after it. It seems quite natural to me." + +"But she _has_ a husband," Alys rebuked. + +"Yes," agreed Genevieve, "but she probably married him for a husband, +not a business agent." + +George felt the reins of the situation slipping from him, so he jerked +the curb of conversation. + +"We are beside the issue," he said in his most legal manner. "The fact +is that Allen knows more about the Kentwood district and the factory +values than any one else, and I feel it my duty to advise Alys to leave +her affairs in his hands. I'll see him for you in the morning." + +He turned to Alys with a return of tolerantly protective inflection in +his voice. + +Genevieve shrugged, a faint ghost of a shrug. Had George been less +absorbed in his own mental discomforts, he would have discovered there +and then that the matter of his speech, not the manner of his delivery, +was what held his wife's attention. No longer could rounded periods and +eloquent sophistry hide from her his thoughts and intentions. + +A telephone call interrupted the meal. He answered it with relief, +bowing a hurried, self-important excuse to the ladies. But the voice +that came over the wire was not modulated in tones of flattery. + +"Say," drawled the campaign manager, "you'd better get a hump on, and +come over here to headquarters. There's a couple of gents here who want +a word with you." + +The tone was ominous, and George stiffened. "Very well, I'll be right +over. But you can pretty well tell them where I stand on the main +issues. Who's at headquarters?" + +A snort of disgust greeted the inquiry. The snort told George that +seasoned campaigners did not use the telephone with such casual lack of +circumspection. The words were in like manner enlightening. "Well, there +might be Mr. Julius Caesar, and then again Mr. George Washington might +drop in. What I'm putting you wise to," he added sharply, "is that you'd +better get on to your job." + +There was a click as of a receiver hung up with a jerk, and a subdued +giggle that testified to the innocent attention of the telephone +operator. + +With but a pale reflection of his usual courtesy the harassed candidate +left the bosom of his family. No sooner had he taken his departure than +the bosom heaved. + +"My dear girl," said Alys, "if you take that tone with your husband +you'll never hold him--never. Men won't stand for it. You're only +hurting yourself." + +"What tone?" Genevieve inquired as she rose calmly and led the way to +the drawing-room. + +"I mean"--Mrs. Brewster-Smith slipped a firm, white hand across +Genevieve's shoulders--"you shouldn't try to force issues. It looks as +if you didn't have confidence in your husband, and men, to _do_ and _be_ +their best, must feel perfect trust from the woman they love. You don't +mind my being so frank, dear, but we women must help one another--by our +experience and our intuitions." + +Genevieve looked at her. Oblique angles had become irritatingly +fascinating. "I'm beginning to think so more and more," she replied. + +"It's for your own good, dear," Alys smiled. + +"Yes," Genevieve agreed. "I understand. Things that hurt are often for +our good, aren't they? We have to be _made_ to realize facts really to +know them." + +"Coffee, dear?" inquired Alys, assuming the duties of hostess. + +Genevieve shook her head. "No. I find I've been rather wakeful of late: +perhaps it's coffee. Excuse me. I must telephone." + +A moment later she returned beaming. + +"I have borrowed a car for tomorrow, and I want you and Emelene to come +with me for a little spin. We ought to have a bright day; the night is +wonderful. Poor George," she sighed, "I wish he didn't have to be away +so much." + +"His career is yours, you know," kittenishly bromidic, Emelene comforted +her. The following day fulfilled the promise of its predecessor. Clear +and balmy, it invited to the outer, world, and it was with pleased +anticipation that Genevieve's guests prepared for the promised outing. +Genevieve glanced anxiously into her gold mesh bag. The motor was hired, +not borrowed. + +She had permitted herself this one white lie. + +She ushered her guests into the tonneau and took her place beside the +chauffeur. Their first few stops were for such prosaic purchases as the +household made necessary; there was a pause at the post office, another +at the Forum, where Genevieve left two highly disgruntled women waiting +for her while with a guilty sense of teasing her prey she prolonged her +business. The sight of their stiffened figures and averted faces when +she returned to them kindled a new amusement. + +At last they were settled comfortably, and the car turned toward the +suburbs. + +The town streets were passed and lines of villa homes thinned. The +ornate colonial gates of the Country Club flashed by. Now the sky to +the right was dark with the smoke of the belching chimneys of many +factories. For a block or two cottages of the better sort flanked the +road; then, grim, ugly and dilapidated, stretched the twin "improved" +sections of Kentwood and Powderville. In the air was an acrid odor. Soot +begrimed everything. The sodden ground was littered with refuse between +the shacks, which were dignified by the title of "Workmen's Cottages." + +Amid the confusion, irregular trodden paths led, short-cutting, toward +the clattering, grinding munition plants. For a space of at least half +an acre around the huge iron buildings the ground, with sinister import, +was kept clear of dwellings, but in all directions outside of the +inclosure thousands of new yellow-pine shacks testified to the sudden +demand for labor. A large weather-beaten signboard at a wired cross-road +bore the name of "Kentwood," plus the advice that the office was +adjacent for the purchase or lease of the highly desirable villa sites. + +The motor drew up and Genevieve alighted. For the first time since their +course had been turned toward the unlovely but productive outskirts, +Genevieve faced her passengers. Alys' face was pale. Emelene's +expression was puzzled and worried, as a child's is worried when the +child is suddenly confronted by strange and gloomy surroundings. + +"There is some one in the renting office," said Genevieve with quiet +determination. "I'll find out. We shall need a guide to go around with +us. Emelene, you needn't get out unless you wish to." + +Emelene shuffled uneasily, half rose, and collapsed helplessly back +on the cushions, like a baby who has encountered the resistance of his +buggy strap. + +"I--if you'll excuse me, Genevieve, dear, I won't get out. I've only +got on my thin kid slippers. I didn't expect to put foot on the pavement +this morning, you know." + +"Very well, then, Alys!" Genevieve's voice assumed a note of command her +mild accents had never before known. + +Alys' brilliant eyes snapped. "I have no desire," she said firmly, with +all the dignity of an affronted lady, "to go into this matter." "I know +you haven't. But I'm going to walk through. _I_ am making a report for +the Woman's Forum." + +Alys' face crimsoned with anger. + +"You have no right to do such a thing," she exclaimed. "I shall refuse +you permission. You will have to obtain a permit." + +"I have one," Genevieve retorted, "from the Health Department. And--I am +to meet one of the officers here." + +Mrs. Brewster-Smith's descent from the tonneau was more rapid than +graceful. + +"What are you trying to do?" she demanded. "Genevieve, I don't +understand you." + +"Don't you?" + +The diffident girl had suddenly assumed the incisive strength of +observant womanhood. + +"I think you _do_. I am going to show you your own responsibilities, if +that's a possible thing. I'm not going to let you throw them on George +because he's a man and your kin; and I shan't let him throw them on an +irresponsible agent because he has neither the time nor the inclination +to do justice to himself, to you, nor to these people to whom he is +responsible." + +She waved a hand down the muddy, jumbled street. + +The advent of an automobile had had its effect. Eager faces appeared +at windows and doors. Children frankly curious and as frankly neglected +climbed over each other, hanging on the ragged fences. Two mongrel dogs +strained at their chains, yelping furiously. Genevieve crossed to +the little square building bearing a gilt "office" sign. There was no +response to her imperative knock, but a middle-aged man appeared on the +porch of the adjoining shack and observed her curiously. + +"Wanta rent?" he called jeeringly. + +"Are you in charge here?" Genevieve inquired. + +"Sorter," he temporized. "Watcha want?" + +"I want some one who knows something about it to go around Kentwood with +us." + +"What for?" he snarled. "I got my orders." + +"From whom?" countered Genevieve. + +"None of your business, as I can see." He eyed her narrowly. "But my +orders is to keep every one nosin' around here without no good raison +_out_ of the place--and I don't think _you're_ here to rent, nor your +friend, neither. Besides, there ain't nothin' to rent." + +Mrs. Brewster-Smith colored. The insult to her ownership of the premises +stung her to resentment. + +"My good man," she said sharply. "I happen to be the proprietor of North +Kent wood." + +"Then you'd better beat it." The guardian grinned. "There's a dame been +here with one of them fellers from the town office." + +"Where are they now?" questioned Genevieve sharply. + +"Went up factory way. But if you _ain't_ one of them lady nosies, you'd +better beat it, I tell you." + +Genevieve looked up the street. "Very well, we'll walk on up. This is +North Kentwood, isn't it?" + +"Ain't much choice," he shrugged, "but it is. You can smell it a mile. +Say, you lady owner there"--he laughed at his own astuteness in not +being taken in--"you know the monikers, don't you? South Kentwood, +'Stinktown'; North Kentwood, 'Swilltown'?" He grinned, pulled at his +hip pocket and, extracting a flat glass flask, took a prolonged swig and +replaced the bottle with a leer. + +The two incongruous visitors were already negotiating the muddy +thoroughfare between the dilapidated dwellings. Presently these gave +place to roughly knocked together structures for two and three families. + +The number of children was surprising. Now and again a shrill-voiced +woman, who seemed the prototype of her who lived in the shoe, came to +admonish her young and stare with hostile eyes at the invaders. Refuse, +barrels, cans, pigs, dogs, chickens, were on all sides, with here and +there a street watering trough, fed, apparently, by an occasional tap +at the wide-apart hydrants, installed by the factories for protection in +case of fire, as evidenced by the signs staked by the apparatus. + +"What do they pay you for these cottages?" Genevieve inquired suddenly. + +Mrs. Brewster-Smith, whose curiosity concerning her possessions had +been aroused by the physical evidence of the same, balanced on a rut and +surveyed her tormentor angrily. + +"I'm sure I don't know. I've told you before I don't understand such +matters, and I see nothing to be gained by coming here." + +Genevieve pushed open a battered gate, walked up to the door and +knocked. + +"What are you doing?" her companion called, querulously. + +A noise of many pattering feet on bare floors, a strident order for +silence, and the door swung open. A young girl stood in the doorway. +Behind her were a dozen or more children, varying from toddlers to gawky +girls and boys of school age. + +Genevieve's eyes widened. "Dear me," she exclaimed, "they aren't all +_yours_!" + +The young woman grinned mirthlessly. "I should say not!" she snapped. +"They pays me to look out for 'em--their fathers and mothers in the +factory. Watcha want?" + +"What do you pay for a house like this?" + +The hired mother's brow wrinkled, and her lips drew back in an ugly +snarl. "They robs us, these landlords does. We gotter be 'longside the +works, so they robs us. What do I pay for this? Thirty a month, and at +that 'tain't fit for no dawg to live in. I could knock up a shack like +this with tar paper, I could. + +"And what do we get? I gotter haul the water in a bucket, and cook on an +oil stove, and they hists the price of the ile, 'cause he comes by in +a wagon with it. The landlords is squeezing the life out of us, I tell +ye." + +She paused in her tirade to yell at her charges. Then she turned again +to the story of her wrongs. + +"And of all the pest holes I ever seen, this is the plum worst. There's +chills an' fever an' typhoid till you can't rest, an' them kids is +abustin' with measles an' mumps an' scarlet fever. That I ain't got 'em +all myself's a miracle." + +"You ought to have a district nurse and inspector/' said Genevieve, +amused, in spite of her indignation, at the dark picture presented. + +"Distric' nothin'," the other sneered. "There ain't nothin' here but +rent an' taxes--doggone if I don't quit. There's plenty to do this here +mindin' work, an' I bet I could make more at the factory. They're payin' +grand for overtime." + +Genevieve looked at the thin shoulders and narrow chest of the girl, +noted her growing pallor and wondered how long such a physique could +withstand the strain of hard work and overtime. She sighed. Something of +her thoughts must have shown in her face, for the girl reddened and +her lips tightened. Without another word she slammed the door in her +visitor's face. + +Mrs. Brewster-Smith cackled thin laughter. + +"That's what you get for interfering," she jeered, so angry with her +hostess for this forced inspection of her source of income that she +was ready to sacrifice the comforts of her extended visit to have the +satisfaction of airing her resentment. + +"Poor soul!" said Genevieve. "Thirty a month!" Her eyes ran over the +rows of crowded shacks. "The owners must get together and do something +here," she said. "These conditions are simply vile." + +"It's probably all these people are used to," Alys snapped, "And, +besides, if they went further into town it'd cost them the trolley both +ways, and all the time lost. It's the location they pay for. Mr. Alien +told me not two months ago he thought rents could be raised." + +"If you all co-operate," Genevieve continued her own line of thought, +"you could at least clean the place and make it _safe_ to live in, even +if they haven't any comforts." + +Her face brightened. Around the corner came the strong, solid figure of +Miss Eliot; behind her trotted a bespectacled young man who carried a +pigskin envelope under his arm and whose expression was far from happy. + +"Hello!" called Miss Eliot. "So you did come. I'm glad of it. Let me +present Mr. Glass to you. The department lent him to me for the day. And +what do you think of it, now that you can see it?" + +"Glad to meet you," said Genevieve, nodding to the health officer. "What +do I think of it? What does Mr. Glass think? That's more important. Oh, +let me present you--this is Mrs. Brewster-Smith." + +Miss Eliot's face showed no surprise, though her eyes twinkled, but Mr. +Glass was frankly taken aback. + +"Mrs. Brewster--Smith----Brewster--Smith," he stammered. "Oh--er--" he +gripped his pigskin folio as if about to search its contents to verify +the name. "The--er--the owner?" he inquired. + +Alys stiffened. "My dear husband left me this property. I have never +before seen it." + +"I'm very glad," beamed Mr. Glass, "to see that we shall have +your co-operation in our efforts to do something definite for this +section--and measures must be taken quickly. As you see, there is no +sanitation, no trenching, no mosquito-extermination plant. Malaria and +typhoid are prevalent; it's all very bad, very bad, indeed. And you'd +hardly believe, Mrs. Brewster-Smith, what difficulties we are having +with the owners as a class. The five biggest have formed an association. +I suppose you've heard about it. They must have made an effort to +interest you "--he stopped short, remembering that her name appeared on +the lists of the "Protective League." + +"Really"--Alys had recovered her hauteur and the aloofness becoming the +situation--"I know nothing whatever about what measures my agents have +thought it advisable to take." + +Mr. Glass choked and glanced uneasily at Miss Eliot. + +That lady grinned, almost the grin of a gamin. "You needn't look at +_me_, Mr. Glass. I don't represent Mrs. Brewster-Smith." + +"Oh, I know, I know," Mr. Glass hastened to exonerate his companion. + +"I believe Miss Eliot declined the honor," Genevieve's voice was heard. + +"I did," the agent affirmed. She laughed shortly. "Otherwise you would +hardly find me here in my present capacity. One does not 'run with the +hare and hunt with the hounds,' you know." + +Alys lost her temper. It seemed to her she was ruthlessly being forced +to shoulder responsibilities she had been taught to shirk as a sacred +feminine right. Therefore, feeling injured, she voiced her innocence. + +"Your husband, my dear Genevieve, has been good enough to administer my +little estate. Whatever he has done, or now plans to do, meets with _my_ +entire approval." + +The thrust went home in more directions than one. Miss Eliot turned +her frank gaze upon the speaker, while she slowly nodded her head as +if studying a perfect specimen of a noxious species. Mr. Glass gasped. +There was political material in the statement. He looked anxiously at +the wife of the gentleman implicated, but in her was no fear and no +manner of trembling. Instead, the light of battle shone in her eyes. + +"My dear Alys," she said, "my husband has told you that he is too busy a +man to give your affairs his personal attention. He can only advise you +and turn the executive side over to another. His experience does not +extend to the stock market or to real estate. It is an imposition to +throw your burdens upon him. If you derive benefits from ownership, you +must educate yourself to accept your duty to society." + +"Indeed!" flared Alys, furious at this public arraignment. "May I ask +if you intend to continue this insulting attitude?" "If you mean, do I +expect hereafter to be a live woman and not a parasite--I do." + +Mrs. Brewster-Smith turned on her heel and walked away, teetering over +the ruts and holes of the path. + +Genevieve looked distressed. "I'm sorry," she breathed, "I'm ashamed, +but it _had_ to come out. I--I couldn't stand it any longer. I--beg +everybody's pardon. I'm sure, it was awfully bad manners of me. Oh, +dear--" she faltered, half turned, and, with a gesture of appeal toward +Mrs. Brewster-Smith's slowly retreating back, moved as if to follow. + +"I wouldn't go after her," said E. Eliot. "Of course, you haven't had +experience. You don't know how much self-restraint you've got to build +up, but you're here now, and I'm sure Mr. Glass understands. _He's_ +got to come up against all sorts of exasperations on _his_ job, too. He +won't take any stock in Mrs. Brewster-Smith's trying to tie your husband +up to these wretched conditions. + +"He's looking forward to seeing an honest, public-spirited district +attorney get into office--even if your husband doesn't yet see that +women have anything to say about it. They may heckle him in order +to force him to come out on his intentions about the graft, and the +eight-hour day, and the enforcement of the law, but they don't doubt his +honesty. When he know's what's what, I guess the public can trust him to +do the right thing. Only he's got to be shown." + +As she talked, giving Genevieve time to recover from her upheaval, the +three investigators were plowing their way up and down byways equally +depressing and insanitary. Silence ensued. Occasionally an expression of +commiseration or condemnation escaped one or another of the party. + +Suddenly a raucous whistle tore the air, followed by another and +another, declaring the armistice of the noon hour. Iron gates in the +surrounding wall were opened, a stream of men and women poured out, +grimed, sweat-streaked and voluble. The two women and their escort +paused and watched the oncoming swarm of humanity. + +Around the corner, just ahead, strode a giant of a man, followed by a +red-faced, unkempt, familiar figure--the man in charge of the renting +office. The giant came forward threateningly. + +"What youse doing?" he growled. He jerked his jersey, displaying a brass +badge, P. A. Guard. + +"Git outer here--git," he called. + +Mr. Glass stepped forward, displaying his Health Department permit. The +giant laughed. + +"Say, sonny," he sneered, "that don't go--see. Them tin fakes don't git +by. If you're one of them guys, you come here wit' McLaughlin, and youse +can rubber. But we've had enough of this stuff. Them dames is no blind, +neither. I'm guard for the owners here, and we ain't takin' no chances +wit' trouble makers--git. Git a move on!" + +"The department," spluttered Glass, "shall hear of this." + +"That's all right. McLaughlin's the boss. Tell 'em not to send a kid to +do a man's job." + +Genevieve was too amazed to protest. It was her first experience of +defiance of Law and Order by Law and Order. + +Meanwhile, the first stragglers of the released army of toilers were +nearly upon them. The giant observed their approach, and the look of +menace deepened on his huge, congested face. + +"Move on, now--move on," he snarled, and herded them forward in advance +of the workers. + +Sheepishly the three obeyed, but Miss Eliot was not silent. + +"Your name?" she demanded in judicial command. + +The very terseness of her question seemed to jerk an unwilling answer +from the guard. + +"Michael Mehan." + +"And you're employed by the Owners' Protective League?" + +"Sure." + +"Have they given you orders to keep strangers out of the district?" + +"I have me orders, and I know what they be. I'm duly sworn in as extra +guard--and I'm not the only one, neither." + +"Did _he_ come after you?" Miss Eliot indicated the ruffian at his side. + +"I seen the lady owner blew the bunch," that worthy remarked with a +hoarse chuckle. "I wised Mike, all right. Whatcha goin' to do about it?" + +"Mrs. Brewster-Smith, the owner," Miss Eliot observed, "didn't seem to +know that she had employed you. How about that?" + +"I'm put here by the O.P.L. That's good enough fer yer lady +owner--now--ain't it? The things them nosey dames thinks they can git by +wit'!" he observed to the guard, and swore an oath that made Mr. Glass +turn to him with unexpected fury. + +"You may pretend to think that I'm not what I represent myself to be, +but let me tell you, McLaughlin is going to hear of this. One more +insult to these ladies and I'll make it my business to go personally to +your employers. Get me?" + +"Shut your trap, Jim," snarled Mehan. "Yer ain't got no orders fer no +fancy language." He leered at Genevieve. "Now we've shooed the chickens +out, we're tru'." With a wave of his huge paw he indicated the highway +the turn of the path revealed. + +Genevieve looked to the right, where the car should be waiting her. It +was gone. Evidently the indignant Mrs. Brewster-Smith had expedited the +departure. Miss Eliot read her discomfiture. + +"My car is right down here behind that palatial mansion with the hole +in the roof and the tin-can extension. Thank you very much for your +escort," she added, turning to the two representatives of the Protective +League. "My name, by the way, is E. Eliot. I am a real-estate agent and +my office is at 22 Braston Street. You might mention it in your report." + +The little car stood waiting, surrounded by a group of admiring +children. Its owner stepped in briskly, backed around and received her +passengers. + +"Well," she smiled as they drew out on the traveled highway, "how do you +like the purlieus of our noble little city?" + +Genevieve was silent. Then she spoke with conviction. + +"When George is in power--and he's _got_ to be--the Law will be the Law. +I know him." + + + + +CHAPTER XI. BY MARJORIE BENTON COOK + + +George Remington walked toward headquarters with more assurance than +he felt. He resented Doolittle's command that he appear at once. He was +beginning to realize the pressure which these campaign managers were +bringing to bear upon him. He was not sure yet how far he could go, in +out-and-out defiance of them and their dictates. + +He knew that he had absolutely no ambitions, no interests in common with +these schemers, whose sole idea lay in party patronage, in manipulating +every political opportunity--in short, in reaping where they had sown. +The question now confronting him was this: was he prepared to sell his +political birthright for the mess of pottage they offered him? + +He stood a second at the door of the office, peering through the +reeking, smoke-filled atmosphere, to get a bird's-eye view of the +situation before he entered. + +Mr. Doolittle sat on the edge of a table monologuing to Wes' Norton and +Pat Noonan. Mr. + +Norton was the president of the Whitewater Commercial Club, composed of +the leading merchants of the town, and Mr. Noonan was the apostle of the +liquor interests. Remington felt his back stiffen as he stepped among +them. + +"Good-evening, gentlemen," he said briskly. + +"H'are ye, George?" drawled Doolittle. + +"There was something you wanted to discuss with me?" + +"I dunno as there's anything to discuss, but there's a few things Wes' +an' Pat an' me'd like to say to ye. There ain't no two ways of thinkin' +about the prosperity of Whitewater, ye know, George. The merchants +in this town is satisfied with the way things is boomin'. The +factory workers is gittin' theirs, with high wages an' overtime. The +stockholders is makin' no kick on the dividends--as ye know, George, +being one of them. + +"Now, we don't want nuthin' to disturb all this If the fact'ries is +crackin' the law a bit, why, it ain't the first time such things has +got by the inspector. The fact'ry managers'd like some assurance from ye +that ye're goin' to keep yer hands off before they line up the fact'ry +hands to vote for ye." + +Doolittle paused here. George nodded. + +"When are ye comin' out with a plain statement of yer intentions, +George?" inquired Mr. Norton in a conciliatory tone. + +"The voters in this town will get a clear statement of my stand on all +the issues of this campaign in plenty of time, gentlemen." + +"That's all right fer the voter, but ye can't stall _us_ wit' that kind +of talk--" began Noonan. + +"Wait a minute, Pat," counseled Doolittle. "George means all right. He's +new to this game, but he means to stand fer the intrusts of his party, +don't ye, George?" + +"I should scarcely be the candidate of that party if I did not." + +"I ain't interested in no oratory. Are ye or are ye not goin' to keep +yer hands off the prosperity of Whitewater?" demanded Noonan angrily. + +"Look here, Noonan, I am the candidate for this office--you're not. I +intend to do as my conscience dictates. I will not be hampered at every +turn, nor told what to say and what to think. I must get to these things +in my own way." + +"Don't ye fergit that ye're _our_ candidate, that ye are to express the +opinion of the people who will elect ye, and not any dam' theories of +yer own----" + +"I think I get your meaning, Noonan." + +George spoke with a smile which for some reason disconcerted Noonan. He +sensed with considerable irritation the social and class breach between +himself and Remington, and while he did not understand it he resented +it. He called him "slick" to Wes' and Doolittle and loudly bewailed +their choice of him as candidate. + +"Then there's that P.L. bizness, Pat--don't fergit that," urged Wes'. + +"I ain't fergittin' it. There's too much nosin' round Kentwood district +by the women, George. Too much talkin'. Ye'd better call that off right +now. Property owners down there is satisfied, an' they got _their_ +rights, ye know." "I suppose you know what the conditions down there +are?" + +"Sure we know, George, and we want to clean it up down there just as +much as you do," said the pacific Doolittle; "but what we're sayin' is, +this ain't the time to do it. Later, mebbe, when the conditions is jest +right----" + +"Somebody has got the women stirred up fer fair. It's up to you to call +'em off, George," said Mr. Norton. + +"How can I call them off?"--tartly. + +"Ye can put the brakes on Mrs. Remington and that there Sheridan girl, +can't ye?" + +"Miss Sheridan is no longer in my employ. As for Mrs. Remington, if +she is not one in spirit with me, I cannot force her to be. Every human +being has a right to----" + +"Some change sence ye last expressed yerself, George. Seems like I +recall ye sayin', 'I'll settle that!'" remarked Doolittle coldly. + +"We will leave my wife's name out of the discussion, please," said +George with tardy but noble loyalty. "Well, them two I mentioned can +stir up some trouble; but they ain't the brains of their gang, by a +long shot. It's this E. Eliot we gotta deal with. She's as smart, if not +smarter, than any man in this town. She's smarter than you, George--or +me, either," he added consolingly. + +"I've seen her about, but I've never talked to her. What sort of woman +is she?" + +"Quiet, sensible kind. Ye keep thinking, 'How reasonable that woman is,' +till ye wake up and find she's got ye hooked on one of the horns of +yer own damfoolishness! Slick as they make 'em and straight as a +string--that's E. Eliot." + +"What do you want me to do about it?"--impatiently. + +"Are ye aimin' to answer them voiceless questions?" Pat inquired. + +Silence. + +"Plannin' to tear down Kentwood and enforce them factory laws?" demanded +Wes' Norton. + +Still no answer. + +"I'm jest callin' yer attention to the fact that this election is +gittin' nearer every day." "What am I to do with her? I can't afford to +show we're afraid of her." + +"Huh." + +"I can't bribe her to stop." + +"I'd like to see the fella that would try to bribe E. Eliot," Doolittle +chuckled. "Wouldn't be enough of him left to put in a teacup." + +"Then we've got to ignore her." + +"_We_ can ignore her, all right, George; but the women an' some of the +voters ain't ignoring her. It's my idea she's got a last card up her +sleeve to play the day before we go to the polls that'll fix us." + +"Have you any plan in your mind?" + +Doolittle scratched his head, wrestling with thought. + +"We was thinking that if she could be called away suddenly, and detained +till after election--" he began meaningly. + +"You mean----" + +"Something like that." + +"I won't have it, not if I lose the election. I won't stoop to +kidnapping a woman like a highwayman. What do you take me for, +Doolittle?" "Georgie, politics ain't no kid-glove bizness. It ain't +what _you_ want; you're jest a small part of this affair. You're _our_ +candidate, and we _got_ to win this here election. Do you get me?" + +He shot out his underjaw, and there was no sign of his usual good humor. + +"Well, but----" + +"You don't have to know anything about this. We'll handle it. You'll be +pertected to the limit; don't you worry," sneered Noonan. + +"But you can't get away with this old-fashioned stuff nowadays, +Doolittle," protested Remington. + +"Can't we? You jest leave it to your Uncle Benjamin. You don't know +nothing about this. See?" + +"I know it's a dirty, low, underhanded----" + +"George," remarked Mr. Doolittle, slowly hoisting his big body on to its +short legs, "in politics we don't call a spade a spade. We call it 'a +agricultural implument.'" + +With this sage remark Mr. Doolittle took his departure, followed by the +other prominent citizens. + +George sat where they left him, head in hands, for several moments. Then +he sprang up and rushed to the door to call them back. + +He would not stand it--he would not win at that price. He had conceded +everything they had demanded of him up to this point, but here he drew +the line. Ever since that one independent fling of his about suffrage +they had treated him like a naughty child. What did they think he was--a +rubber doll? He would telephone Doolittle that he would rather give up +his candidacy. Here he paused. + +Suppose he did withdraw, nobody would understand. The town would think +the women had frightened him off. He couldn't come out now and denounce +the machine methods of his party. Every eye in Whitewater was focused on +him; his friends were working for him; the district attorneyship was the +next step in his career; Genevieve expected him to win--no, he must go +through with it! But after he got into office, then he would show them! +He would take orders from no one. He sat down again and moodily surveyed +the future. + +In the days which followed, another mental struggle was taking place +in the Remington family. Poor Genevieve was like a woman struck by +lightning. She felt that her whole structure of life had crashed about +her ears. In one blinding flash she had seen and condemned George +because he considered political expediency. She realized that she must +think for herself now and not rely on him for the family celebration. +She had conceived her whole duty in life to consist in being George's +wife; but now, by a series of accidents, she had become aware of the +great social responsibilities, the larger human issues, which men and +women must meet together. + +Betty and E. Eliot had pointed out to her that she knew nothing of the +conditions in her own town. They assured her that it was as much her +duty to know about such things as to know the condition of her own back +yard. + +Then came the awful revelations of Kentwood--human beings huddled +like rats; children swarming, dirty and hungry! She could not bear to +remember the scenes she had witnessed in Kentwood. + +She recalled the shock of Alys Brewster-Smith's indifference to all that +misery! The widow's one instinct had seemed to be to fight E. Eliot and +the health officer for their interference. Stranger still, the tenants +did not want to be moved out, driven on. The whole situation was +confused, but in it at least one thing stood out clearly: Genevieve +realized, during the sleepless night after her visit to Kentwood, that +she hated Cousin Alys! + +The following Sunday, when she put on her coat, she found a souvenir +of that visit in her pocket, a soiled reminder of poverty and toil. She +remembered picking it up and noting that it was the factory pass of +one Marya Slavonsky. She had intended to leave it with some one in the +district, but evidently in the excitement of her enforced exit she had +thrust it into her pocket. + +This Marya worked in the factories. She was one of that grimy army +Genevieve had seen coming out of the factory gate, and she went home to +that pen which Cousin Alys provided. Marya was a girl of Genevieve's +own age, perhaps, while she, Genevieve, had this comfortable home, and +George! She had been blind, selfish, but she would make up for it, she +_would_! She would make a study of the needs of such people; she would +go among them like St. Agatha, scattering alms and wisdom. George might +have his work; she had found hers! She would begin with the factory +girls. She would waken them to what had so lately dawned on her. How +could she manage it? The rules of admission in the munition factories +were very strict. + +Then again her eye fell upon the soiled card and a great idea was born +in her brain. Dressed as a factory girl, she would use Marya's card to +get her into the circle of these new-found sisters. She would see how +and where they worked. She would report it all to the Forum and to +George. She could be of use to George at last. + +She remembered Betty's statement that at midnight in the factories the +women and girls had an hour off. That was the time she chose, with true +dramatic instinct. + +She rummaged in the attic for an hour, getting her costume ready. She +decided on an old black suit and a shawl which had belonged to her +mother. She carried these garments to her bedroom and hid them there. +Then, with Machiavellian finesse, she laid her plans. + +She would slip out of bed at half-past eleven o'clock, taking care not +to waken George, and she would dress and leave the house by the side +door. By walking fast she could reach by midnight the factory to which +she had admission. + +It annoyed her considerably to have George announce at luncheon that he +had a political dinner on for the evening and probably would not be home +before midnight. He grumbled a little over the dinner. "The campaign," +he said, "really ended yesterday. But Doolittle thought it was wise to +have a last round-up of the business men, and give them a final speech." + +Genevieve acquiesced with a sympathetic murmur, but she was +disappointed. Merely to walk calmly out of the house at eleven o'clock +lessened the excitement. However, she decided upon leaving George a note +explaining that she had gone to spend the night with Betty Sheridan. + +She looked forward to the long afternoon with impatience. Cousin Emelene +was taking her nap. Mrs. Brewster-Smith left immediately after lunch +to make a call on one of her few women friends. Genevieve tried to get +Betty on the telephone, but she was not at home. + +It was with a thrill of pleasure that she saw E. Eliot coming up the +walk to the door. She hurried downstairs just as the maid explained that +Mrs. Brewster-Smith was not at home. + +"Oh, won't you come in and see me for a moment, Miss Eliot?" Genevieve +begged. "I do so want to talk to you." + +E. Eliot hesitated. "The truth is, I am fearfully busy today, +even though it's Sunday. I wanted to get five minutes with Mrs. +Brewster-Smith about those cottages--" she began. + +Genevieve laid a detaining hand on her arm and led her into the +living-room. + +"She's hopeless! I can hardly bear to have her in my house after the way +she acted about those fearful places." + +"Well, all that district is the limit, of course. She isn't the only +landlord." + +"But she didn't _see_ those people." "She's human, I guess--didn't want +to see disturbing things." + +"I would have torn down those cottages with my own hands!" burst forth +Genevieve. + +E. Eliot stared. "No one likes her income cut down, you know," she +palliated. + +"Income! What is that to human decencies?" cried the newly awakened +apostle. + +"Your husband doesn't entirely agree with you in some of these matters, +I suppose." + +"Oh, yes he does, in his heart! But there's something about politics +that won't let you come right out and say what you think." + +"Not after you've come right out once and said the wrong thing," laughed +E. Eliot. "I'm afraid you will have to use your indirect influence on +him, Mrs. Remington." + +Genevieve threw her cards on the table. + +"Miss Eliot, I am just beginning to see how much there is for women to +do in the world. I want to do something big--the sort of thing you +and Betty Sheridan are doing--to rouse women. What can I do?" E. Eliot +scrutinized the ardent young face with amiable amusement. + +"You can't very well help us just now without hurting your husband's +chances and embarrassing him in the bargain. You see, we're trying to +embarrass him. We want him to kick over the traces and tell what he's +going to do as district attorney of this town." + +"But can't I do something that won't interfere with George? Couldn't I +investigate the factories, or organize the working girls?" + +"My child, have you ever organized anything?" exclaimed E. Eliot. + +"No." + +"Well, don't begin on the noble working girl. She doesn't organize +easily. Wait until the election is over. Then you come in on our schemes +and we'll teach you how to do things. But don't butt in now, I beg of +you. Misguided, well-meaning enthusiasts like you can do more harm to +our cause than all the anti-suffragists in this world!" + +With her genial, disarming smile, E. Eliot rose and departed. She +chuckled all the way back to her rooms over the idea of Remington's +bride wanting to take the field with the enemies of her wedded lord. + +"Women, women! God bless us, but we're funny!" mused E. Eliot. + +Genevieve liked her caller immensely, and she thought over her advice, +but she determined to let it make no difference in her plans. + +She saw her work cut out for her. She would not flinch! + +She would do her bit in the great cause of women--no, of humanity. The +flame of her purpose burned steadily and high. + +At a quarter-past eleven that night a slight, black-clad figure, with a +shawl over its head, softly closed the side door of the Remington house +and hurried down the street. Never before had Genevieve been alone on +the streets after dark. She had not foreseen how frightened she would be +at the long, dark stretches, nor how much more frightened when any one +passed her. Two men spoke to her. She sped on, turning now this way, now +that, without regard to direction--her eyes over her shoulder, in terror +lest she be followed. + +So it was that she plunged around a corner and into the very arms of E. +Eliot, who was sauntering home from a political meeting, where she had +been a much-advertised speaker. She was in the habit of prowling about +by herself. Tonight she was, as usual, unattended--unless one observed +two burly workingmen who walked slowly in her wake. + +"Oh, I beg your pardon," came a gently modulated voice from behind the +shawl. E. Eliot stared. + +"No harm done here. Did I hurt you?" she replied. + +She thought she heard an involuntary "Oh!" from beneath the shawl. + +"No, thanks. Could you tell me how to get to the Whitewater Arms and +Munitions Factory? I'm all turned around." + +"Certainly. Two blocks that way to the State Road, and half a mile north +on that. Shall I walk to the road with you?" + +"Oh, no, thank you," the girl answered and hurried on. E. Eliot stood +and watched her. Where had she heard that voice? She knew a good many +girls who worked at the factories, but none of them spoke like that. +All at once a memory came to her: "Couldn't I investigate something, or +organize the working girls?" Mrs. George Remington! + +"The little fool," ejaculated the other woman, and turned promptly to +follow the flying figure. + +The two burly gentlemen in the rear also turned and followed, but E. +Eliot was too busy planning how to manage Mrs. Remington to notice them. +She had to walk rapidly to keep her quarry in sight. As she came +within some thirty yards of the gate she saw Genevieve challenge the +gatekeeper, present her card and slip inside, the gate clanging to +behind her. + +E. Eliot broke into a jog trot, rounded the corner of the wall, pulled +herself up quickly, using the stones of the wall as footholds. She hung +from the top and let herself drop softly inside, standing perfectly +still in the shadow. At the same moment the two burly gentlemen ran +round the corner and saw nothing. "I told ye to run--" began one of them +fiercely. + +"Aw, shut up. If she went over here, she'll come out here. We'll wait." + +The midnight gong and the noise of the women shuffling out into the +courtyard drowned that conversation for E. Eliot. She stood and watched +the gatekeeper saunter indoors, not waiting for the man who relieved him +on duty. She watched Genevieve go forward and meet the factory hands. + +The newcomer shyly spoke to the first group. The eavesdropper could not +hear what she said. But the crowd gathered about the speaker, shuffling, +chaffing, finally listening. Somebody captured the gatekeeper's stool +and Genevieve stood on it. + +"What I want to tell you is how beautiful it is for women to stand +together and work together to make the world better," she began. + +"Say, what is your job?" demanded a girl, suspicious of the soft voice +and modulated speech. + +"Well, I--I only keep house now. But I intend to begin to do a great +deal for the community, for all of you----" "She keeps house--poor +little overworked thing!" + +"But the point is, not what you do, but the spirit you do it in----" + +"What is this, a revival meetin'?" + +"So I want to tell you what the women of this town mean to do." + +"Hear! Hear! Listen at the suffragette!" + +"First, we mean to clean up the Kentwood district. You all know how +awful those cottages are." + +"Sure; we live in 'em!" + +"We intend to force the landlords to tear them down and improve all that +district." + +"Much obliged, lady, and where do we go?" demanded one of her listeners. + +"You must have better living conditions." + +"But where? Rents in this town has boomed since the war began. Ain't +that got to you yet? There ain't no place left fer the poor." + +"Then we must find places and make them healthy and beautiful." + +"For the love of Mike! She's talkin' about heaven, ain't she?" "She's +talkin' through her hat!" cried another. + +"Then, we mean to make the factories obey the laws. They have no right +to make you girls work here at night." + +"Who's makin' us?" + +"We are going to force the factories to obey the letter of the law on +our statute books." + +A thin, flushed girl stepped out of the crowd and faced her. + +"Say, who is 'we'?" + +"Why, all of us, the women of Whitewater." + +"How are we goin' to repay the women of Whitewater fer tearin' down our +homes an' takin' away our jobs? Ain't there somethin' we can do to show +our gratitood?" the new speaker asked earnestly. + +"Go to it--let her have it, Mamie Flynn!" cried the crowd. + +"Oh, but you mustn't look at it that way! We must all make some +sacrifices----" + +"Cut that slush! What do you know about sacrifices? I'm on to you. +You're one of them uptown reformers. What do you know about sacrifices? +Ye got a sure place to sleep, ain't ye? Ye've got a full belly an' a +husband to give ye spendin' money, ain't ye? Don't ye come down here +gittin' our jobs away an' then fergettin' all about us!" + +There was a buzz of agreement and an undertone of anger which to an +experienced speaker would have been ominous. But Genevieve blundered on: +"We only want to help you----" + +"We don't want yer help ner yer advice. You keep yer hands off our +business! Do yer preachin' uptown--that's where they need it. Ask the +landlords of Kentwood and the stockholders in the munition factories to +make some sacrifices, an' see where that gits ye! But don't ye come down +here, a-spyin' on us, ye dirty----" + +The last words were happily lost as the crowd of girls closed in on +Genevieve with cries of "Spy!" "Scab!" "Throw her out!" + +They had nearly torn her clothes off before E. Eliot was among them. She +sprang up on the chair and shouted: + +"Girls--here, hold on a minute." + +There was a hush. Some one called out: "It's Miss E. Eliot." "Listen a +minute. Don't waste your time getting mad at this girl. She's a friend +of mine. And you may not believe me, but she means all right." + +"What's she pussyfootin' in here for?" + +"Don't you know the story of the man from Pittsburgh who died and went +on?" cried E. Eliot. "Some kindly spirit showed him round the place, +and the newcomer said: 'Well, I don't think heaven's got anything on +Pittsburgh.' 'This isn't heaven!' said the spirit." + +There was a second's pause, and then the laugh came. + +"Now, this girl has just waked up to the fact that Whitewater isn't +heaven, and she thought you'd like to hear the news! I'll take the poor +lamb home, put cracked ice on her head and let her sleep it off." + +They laughed again. + +"Go to it," said the erstwhile spokeswoman for the working girls. + +E. Eliot called them a cheery good-night. The factory girls drifted +away, in little groups, leaving Genevieve, bedraggled and hysterical, +clinging to her rescuer. + +"They would have killed me if you hadn't come!" she gasped. + +E. Eliot thought quickly. + +"Stand here in the shadow of the fence till I come back," she said. "It +will be all right. I've got to run into the office and send a telephone +message. I have a pal there who will let me do it." + +"You--you won't be long?" + +It was clear that the nerve of Mrs. Remington was quite gone. + +"I won't be gone five minutes." + +E. Eliot was as good as her word. + +When she returned she seized the stool on which her companion had made +her maiden speech--ran to the wall, placed it at the spot where she had +made her entrance and urged Genevieve to climb up and drop over; as she +obeyed, E. Eliot mounted beside her. They dropped off, almost at the +same moment--into arms upheld to catch them. + +Genevieve screamed, and was promptly choked. "What'll we do with this +extra one?" asked a hoarse voice. + +"Bring her. There's no time to waste now. If ye yell again, ye'll both +be strangled," the second speaker added as he led the way toward the +road, where the dimmed lights of a motor car shone. + +He was carrying E. Eliot as if she were a doll. Behind him his assistant +stumbled along, bearing, less easily but no less firmly, the, wife of +the candidate for district attorney! + + + + +CHAPTER XII. BY WILLIAM ALLEN WHITE + + +As the two gagged women--one comfortably gagged with more or less +pleasant bandages made and provided, the other gagged by the large, +smelly hand of an entire stranger to Mrs. George Remington--whom she was +trying impolitely to bite, by way of introduction--were speeding through +the night, Mr. George Remington, ending a long and late speech before +the Whitewater Business Men's Club, was saying these things: + +"I especially deplore this modern tendency to talk as though there +were two kinds of people in this country--those interested in good +government, and those interested in bad government. We are all good +Americans. We are all interested in good government. Some of us believe +good government may be achieved through a protective tariff and a proper +consideration for prosperity [cheers], and others, in their blindness, +bow down to wood and stone!" + +He smiled amiably at the laughter, and continued: + +"But while some of us see things differently as to means, our aims are +essentially the same. You don't divide people according to trades and +callings. I deplore this attempt to set the patriotic merchant against +the patriotic saloonkeeper; the patriotic follower of the race track +against the patriotic manufacturer. + +"Here is my good friend, Benjie Doolittle. When he played the ponies +in the old days, before he went into the undertaking and furniture +business, was he less patriotic than now? Was he less patriotic then +than my Uncle Martin Jaffry is now, with all his manufacturer's interest +in a stable government? And is my Uncle Martin Jaffry more patriotic +than Pat Noonan? Or is Pat less patriotic than our substantial merchant, +Wesley Norton? + +"Down with this talk that would make lines of moral and patriotic +cleavage along lines of vocation or calling. I want no votes of those +who pretend that the good Americans should vote in one box and the bad +Americans in another box. I want the votes of those of all castes and +cults who believe in prosperity [loud cheers], and I want the votes +of those who believe in the glorious traditions of our party, its +magnificent principles, its martyred heroes, its deathless name in our +history!" + +It was, of course, an after-dinner speech. Being the last speech of the +campaign it was also a highly important one. But George Remington felt, +as he sat listening to the din of the applause, that he had answered +rather neatly those who said he was wabbling on the local economic issue +and was swaying in the wind of socialist agitation which the women had +started in Whitewater. + +As he left the hotel where the dinner had been given, he met his partner +on the sidewalk. + +"Get in, Penny," he urged, jumping into his car. "Come out to the house +for the night, and we'll have Betty over to breakfast. Then she and +Genevieve and you and I will see if we can't restore the _ante-bellum +modus vivendi_! Come on! Emelene and Alys always breakfast in bed, +anyway, and it will be no trouble to get Betty over." The two men rode +home in complacent silence. It was long past midnight. They sat on the +veranda to finish their cigars before going into the house. + +"Penny," asked George suddenly, "what has Pat Noonan got in this game--I +mean against the agitation by the women and this investigation of +conditions in Kentwood? Why should he agonize over it?" + +"Is he fussing about it?" + +"Is he? Do you think I'd tie his name up in a public speech with Martin +Jaffry if Pat wasn't off the reservation? You could see him swell +up like a pizened pup when I did it! I hope Uncle Martin will not be +offended." + +"He's a good sport, George. But say--what did Pat do to give you this +hunch?" + +Remington smoked in meditative silence, then answered: + +"Well, Penny, I had to raise the devil of a row the other day to keep +Pat from ribbing up Benjie Doolittle and the organization to a frame-up +to kidnap this Eliot person." + +"Kidnap E. Eliot!" gasped the amazed Evans. "Kidnap that very pest. And +I tell you, man, if I hadn't roared like a stuck ox they would have done +it! Fancy introducing 'Prisoner of Zenda' stuff into the campaign in +Whitewater! Though I will say this, Penny, as between old army friends +and college chums," continued Mr. Remington earnestly, "if a warrior +bold with spurs of gold, who was slightly near-sighted and not +particular about his love being so damned young and fair, would swoop +down and carry this E. Eliot off to his princely donjon, and would let +down the portcullis for two days, until the election is over, it would +help some! Though otherwise I don't wish her any bad luck!" + +The old army friend and college chum laughed. + +"Well, that's your end of the story! I'm mighty glad you stopped it. +Here's my end. You remember two-fingered Moll, who was our first client? +The one who insisted on being referred to as a lady? The one who got +converted and quit the game and who thought she was being pursued by the +racetrack gang because she was trying to live decent?" + +George smiled in remembrance. "Well, she called me up to know if there +was any penalty for renting a house to Mike the Goat and his wife and +old Salubrious the Armenian, who had a lady friend they were keeping +from the cops against her will. She said they weren't going to hurt the +lady, and I could see her every day to prove it. I advised her to keep +out of it, of course; but she was strong for it, because of what she +called the big money. I explained carefully that if anything should +happen, her past reputation would go against her. But she kept saying it +was straight, until I absolutely forbade her to do it, and she promised +not to." + +"Mike and his woman, and Old Salubrious!" echoed Remington. "And E. +Eliot locked up with them for two days!" + +He shivered, partly at the memory of his own mealy-mouthed protest. + +"Well," he said, and there was an air of finality in his tone, "I'm glad +I stopped the whole infamous business." + +Mentally he decided to get Noonan on the telephone the first thing in +the morning and make certain that the plan was abandoned. He continued +his chat with Evans. + +"But, Penny, why this agonizing of Noonan? What has he to lose by the +better conditions in Kentwood? Why should he----" + +Outside of a neat white dwelling in the suburbs of Whitewater, four +figures were struggling in the night toward a vine-covered door--that +door which appeared so attractively in the _Welfare Bulletin_ of the +Toledo Blade Steel Company's publicity program as the "prize garden home +of J. Agricola, roller." + +A woman stood in the doorway, holding the door open. Two women, who had +been carried by two men, from an automobile at the gate, were forced +through. There the men left them with their hostess. + +"I was only looking for one of yez," she said, hospitably, "but you're +bote welcome. Now, ladies, I'm goin' to make you comfortable. It won't +do no good to scream, so I'm goin' to take your gags off. And I hope +you, lady, haven't been inconvenienced by a handkerchief. We could just +as well have arranged for your comfort, too." + +"Madam," gasped E. Eliot, who was the first to be released to speech, +"it is unimportant who I am. But do you know that this woman with me +is Mrs. George Remington, the wife of the candidate for district +attorney--Mr. George Remington of Whitewater? There has been a mistake." + +The hostess looked at Genevieve, who nodded a tearful confirmation. But +the woman only smiled. + +"My man don't make mistakes," she said laconically. "And, what's more to +the point, miss, he's a friend of George Remington, and why should he +be giving his lady a vacation? You are E. Eliot, and your friends think +you're workin' too hard, so they're goin' to give you a nice rest. +Nothin' will happen to you if you are a lady, as I think you are. And +when I find out who this other lady is, we'll make her as welcome as +you!" + +She went out of the room, locking the door behind her as the two women +struggled vainly with their bonds. In an instant she returned. + +"My man says to tell the one who thinks she's Mrs. George Remington that +she's spendin' the week-end with Mrs. Napoleon Boneypart." My man +says he's a good friend of George Remington and is supportin' him for +district attorney, and that's how he can make it so pleasant here. + +"And I'll tell you something else," she continued proudly. "When George +got married, it was my man that went up and down Smoky Row and seen +all the girls and got 'em to give a dollar apiece for them lovely roses +labeled 'The Young Men's Republican Club.' Mr. Doolittle he seen to +that. My man really collected fifty dollars more'n he turned in, and I +got a diamond-set wrist watch with it! So, you see, we're real friendly +with them Remingtons, and we're glad to see you, Mrs. Remington!" + +"Oh, how horrible!" cried Genevieve. "There were eight dozen of those +roses from the Young Men's Republican Club, and to think---Oh, to +think----" + +"Well, now, George," cried Mr. Penfield Evans, "just stop and think. Use +your bean, my boy! What is the one thing on earth that puts the fear of +God into Pat Noonan? It's prohibition. Look at the prohibition map out +West and at the suffrage map out West. They fit each other like the +paper on the wall. Whatever women may lack in intelligence about some +things, there is one thing woman knows--high and low, rich and poor! +She knows that the saloon is her enemy, and she hits it; and Pat Noonan, +seeing this rise of women investigating industry, makes common cause +with Martin Jaffry and the whole employing class of Whitewater against +the nosey interference of women. + +"And Pat Noonan is depending on you," continued Evans. "He expects you +to rise. He expects you to go to Congress--possibly to the Senate, and +he figures that he wants to be dead sure you'll not get to truckling to +decency on the liquor question. So he ties you up--or tries you out for +a tie-up or a kidnapping; and Benjie Doolittle, who likes a sporting +event, takes a chance that you'll stand hitched in a plan to rid the +community of a political pest without seriously hurting the pest--a +friendless old maid who won't be missed for a day or two, and whose +disappearance can be hushed up one way or another after she appears too +late for the election. + +"Just figure things out, George. Do you think Noonan got Mike the Goat +to assess the girls on the row a dollar apiece for your flowers from the +Young Men's Republican Club, for his health! You had the grace to thank +Pat, but if you didn't know where they came from," explained Mr. Evans +cynically, "it was because you have forgotten where all Pat's floral +offerings from the Y.M.R.C. come from at weddings and funerals! And Pat +feels that you're his kind of people. + +"Politics, George, is not the chocolate eclair that you might think it, +if you didn't know it! Use your bean, my boy! Use your bean! And you'll +see why Pat Noonan lines up with the rugged captains of industry who are +the bulwarks of our American liberty. Pat uses his head for something +more than a hatrack." + +The two puffed for a time in silence. Finally the host said: "Well, +let's turn in." Three minutes later George called across the upper hall +to Penfield. + +"The joke's on us, Penny. Here's a note saying that Genevieve is over +with Betty for the night. We'll call her up after breakfast and have +them both over to a surprise party." + +Penny strolled across to his friend's door. He was disappointed, and he +showed it. He found George sitting on the side of his bed. + +"Penny," mused the Young Man in Politics, in his finest mood, "you know +I sometimes think that, perhaps, way down deep, there is something wrong +with our politics. I don't like to be hooked up with Noonan and his +gang. And I don't like the way Noonan and his gang are hooked up with +Wesley Norton and the silk stockings and Uncle Martin and the big +fellows. Why can't we get rid of the Noonan influence? They aren't after +the things we're after! They only furnish the unthinking votes that make +majorities that elect the fellows the big crooks handle. Lord, man, it's +a dirty mess! And why women want to get into the dirty mess is more than +I can see." "What a sweet valedictory address you are making for a young +ladies' school!" scoffed Penny. "The hills are green far off! Aren't you +the Sweet Young Thing. But I'll tell you why the women want to get in, +George. They think they want to clean up the mess." + +"But would they clean it? Wouldn't they vote about as we vote?" + +"Well," answered Mr. Evans with the cynicism of the judicial mind, +"let's see. You know now, if you didn't know at the time, that Noonan +got Mike the Goat to assess the disorderly houses for the money to buy +your wedding roses from the Y.M.R.C. All right. Noonan's bartender is +on the ticket with you as assemblyman. Are you going to vote for him or +not?" + +"But, Penny, I've just about got to vote for him." + +"All right, then. I'll tell Genevieve the truth about Noonan and the +flowers, and I'll ask her if she would feel that she had to vote for +Noonan's bartender!" retorted Mr. Evans. "Giving women the ballot will +help at least that much. If the Noonans stay in politics, they'll get no +help from the women when they vote!" + +"But aren't we protecting the women?" + + * * * * * + +"Anyway, Mrs. Remington," said E. Eliot comfortably, "I'm glad it +happened just this way. Without you, they would hold me until after the +election on Tuesday. With you, about tomorrow at ten o'clock we shall +be released. E. Eliot alone they have made every provision for holding. +They have started a scandal, I don't doubt, necessary to explain my +absence, and pulled the political wires to keep me from making a fuss +about it afterward. They know their man in the district attorney's +office, and----" + +"Do you mean George Remington?" This from his wife, with flashing eyes. + +"I mean," explained E. Eliot unabashed, "that for some reason they feel +safe with George Remington in the district attorney's office, or they +would not kidnap me to prevent his defeat! That is the cold-blooded +situation." + +"This party," E. Eliot smiled, "is given at the country home of Mike +the Goat, as nearly as I can figure it out. Mike is a right-hand man +of Noonan. Noonan is a right-hand man of Benjie Doolittle and Wesley +Norton, and they are all a part of the system that holds Martin Jaffry's +industries under the amiable beneficence of our sacred protective +tariff! Hail, hail, the gang's all here--what do we care now, my dear? +And because you are here and are part of the heaven-born combination +for the public good, I am content to go through the rigors of one night +without a nightie for the sake of the cause!" + +"But they don't know who I am!" protested Mrs. Remington. "And----" + +"Exactly, and for that reason they don't know who you are not. Tomorrow +the whole town will be looking for you, and Noonan will hear who you are +and where you are. Then! Say, girl--_say, girl,_ it _will_ be grist for +our mill! Fancy the headlines all over the United States: + +'GANG KIDNAPS CANDIDATE'S WIFE MYSTERY SHROUDS PLOT CANDIDATE REMINGTON +IS SILENT.'" + +"But he won't be silent," protested the indignant Genevieve. + +"I tell you, he'll denounce it from the platform. He'll never let this +outrage----" + +"Well, my dear," said the imperturbable E. Eliot, "when he denounces +this plot he'll have to denounce Doolittle and Noonan, and probably +Norton, and maybe his Uncle Martin Jaffry. Somebody is paying big money +for this job! I said the headlines will declare: + +'CANDIDATE REMINGTON is SILENT But Still Maintains That Women Are +Protected from Rigors of Cruel World by Man's Chivalry.'" + +"Oh, Miss Eliot, don't! How can you? Oh, I know George will not let this +outrage----" + +"Of course not," hooted E. Eliot. "The sturdy oak will support the +clinging vine! But while he is doing it he will be defeated. And if he +doesn't protest he will be defeated, for I shall talk!" + +"George Remington will face defeat like a gentleman, Miss Eliot; have no +fear of that. He will speak out, no matter what happens." "And when he +speaks, when he tells the truth about this whole alliance between +the greedy, ruthless rich and the brutal, vicious dregs of this +community--our cause is won!" + + * * * * * + +The next morning George Remington reached from his bed for his telephone +and called up the Sheridan residence. Two minutes later Penfield Evans +heard a shout. At his door stood the unclad and pallid candidate for +district attorney. + +"Penny," he gasped, "Genevieve's not there! She has not been with Betty +all night. And Betty has gone out to find E. Eliot, who is missing from +her boarding-house!" + +"Are you sure----" + +"God--Penny--I thought I had stopped it!" + +George was back in his room, flying into his clothes. The two men were +talking loudly. From down the hall a sleepy voice--unmistakably Mrs. +Brewster-Smith's--was drawling: + +"George--George--are you awake? I didn't hear you come in. Dear +Genevieve went over to stay all night with Cousin Betty, and the oddest +thing happened. About midnight the telephone bell rang, and that odious +Eliot person called you up!" + +George was in the hall in an instant and before Mrs. Brewster-Smith's +door. + +"Well, well, for God's sake, what did she say!" he cried. + +"Oh, yes, I was coming to that. She said to send your chauffeur with +the car down to the--oh, I forget, some nasty factory or something, +for Genevieve. She said Genevieve was down there talking to the factory +girls. Fancy that, George! So I just put up the receiver. I knew +Genevieve was with Betty Sheridan and not with that odious person at +all--it was some ruse to get your car and compromise you. Fancy dear +Genevieve talking to the factory girls at midnight!" + +Penfield Evans and George Remington, standing in the hall, listened to +these words with terror in their hearts. + +"Get Noonan first," said George. "I'll talk to him." + +In five seconds Evans had Noonan's residence. Remington listened to +Penny's voice. "Gone," he was saying. "Gone where?" And then: "Why, he +was at the dinner last---What's Doolittle's number?" ("Noonan went to +New York on the midnight train," he threw at George.) A moment later +Remington heard his partner cry, "Doolittle's gone to New York? On the +midnight train?" + +"Try Norton," snapped George. Soon he heard Penny exclaim. "Albany?" +said Penny. "Mr. Norton is in Albany? Thank you!" + +"Their alibis!" said Evans calmly, as he hung up the receiver and stared +at his partner. + +"Well, it--it----Why, Penny, they've stolen Genevieve! That damned +Mike and the Armenian! They've got Genevieve with that Eliot woman! +God----Why, Penny, for God's sake, what----" + +"Slowly, George--slowly. Let's move carefully." + +The voice of Penfield Evans was cool and steady, + +"First of all, we need not worry about any harm coming to Genevieve. She +is with Miss Eliot, and that woman has more sense than a man. She may be +depended upon. Now, then," Evans waved his partner to silence and went +on: "the next thing to consider is how much publicity we shall give this +episode." He paused. + +"It's not a matter of publicity; it's a matter of getting Genevieve +immediately." + +"An hour or so of publicity of the screaming, hysterical kind will not +help us to find Genevieve. But when we do find her, our publicity will +have defeated you!" + +The two men stared at each other. Remington said: "You mean I must +shield the organization!" + +"If you are to be elected--yes!" + +"Do you think Genevieve and Miss Eliot would consent to shield the +organization when we find them? Why, Penny, you're mad! We must call up +the chief of police! We must scour the country! I propose to go right +to the newspapers! The more people who know of this dastardly thing the +sooner we shall recover the victims!" + +"And the sooner Noonan, when he comes home tonight, will denounce you as +an accessory before the fact, with Norton and Doolittle as corroborating +witnesses for him! Oh, you're learning politics fast, George!" + +The thought of what Genevieve would say when she knew, through Noonan +and Doolittle, that he had heard of the plot to kidnap Miss Eliot, +and within an hour had talked to his wife casually at luncheon without +saying anything about it, made George's heart stop. He realized that he +was learning something more than politics. He walked the floor of the +room. + +"Well," he said at last, "let's call in Uncle Martin Jaffry. He----" + +"Yes; he is probably paying for the job. He might know something! I'll +get him." + +"Paying for the job! Do you think he knew of this plot?" cried George as +Evans stood at the telephone. + +"Oh, no. He just knew, in a leer from Doolittle, that they had +extraordinary need for Eve thousand dollars or so in your behalf--that +they had consulted you. And then Doolittle winked and Noonan cocked his +head rakishly, and Uncle Martin put--Hello, Mr. Jaffry. This is Penny. +Dress and come down to the office quickly. We are in serious trouble." + +Twenty minutes later Uncle Martin was sitting with the two young men in +the office of Remington and Evans. When they explained the situation to +him his dry little face screwed up. + +"Well, at least Genevieve will be all right," he muttered. "E. Eliot +will take care of her. But, boys--boys," he squeezed his hands and +rocked in misery, "the devil of it is that I gave Doolittle the money in +a check and then went and got another check from the Owners' Protective +Association and took the peak load off myself, and Doolittle was with +me when I got the P. A. check. We've simply got to protect him. And, of +course, what he knows, Noonan knows. We can't go tearing up Jack here, +calling police and raising the town!" + +George Remington rose. + +"Then I've got to let my wife lie in some dive with that unspeakable +Turk and that Mike the Goat while you men dicker with the scoundrels who +committed this crime!" he said. "My God, every minute is precious! We +must act. Let me call the chief of police and the sheriff----" + +"All dear friends of Noonan's," Penny quietly reminded him. "They +probably have the same tip about what is on as you and Uncle Martin +have! Calm down, George! First, let me go out and learn when Noonan and +Doolittle are coming home! When we know that, we can----" + +"Penny, I can't wait. I must act now. I must denounce the whole damnable +plot to the people of this country. I must not rest one second longer in +silence as an accessory. I shall denounce----" + +"Yes, George, you shall denounce," exclaimed his partner. "But just +whom--yourself, that you did not warn Miss Eliot all day yesterday!" + +"Yes," cried Remington, "first of all, myself as a coward!" + +"All right. Next, then, your Uncle Martin Jaffry, who was earnestly +trying to help you in the only way he knew how to help! Why, George, +that would be----" "That would be the least I could do to let the people +see----" + +"To let the people see that Mrs. Brewster-Smith and all your social +friends in this town are associated with Mike the Goat and his gang----" + +Before Evans could finish, his partner stopped him. + +"Yes, yes--the whole damned system of greed! The rich greed and the poor +greed--our criminal classes plotting to keep justice from the decent +law-abiding people of the place, who are led like sheep to the +slaughter. What did the owners pay that money for? Not for the dirty job +that was turned--not primarily. But to elect me, because they thought +I would not enforce the factory laws and the housing laws and would +protect them in their larceny! That money Uncle Martin collected was my +price--my price!" + +He was standing before his friends, rigid and white in rage. Neither man +answered him. + +"And because the moral sense of the community was in the hearts and +heads of the women of the community," he went on, "those who are +upholding the immoral compact between business and politics had to +attack the womanhood of the town--and Genevieve's peril is my share in +the shame. By God, I'm through!" + + + +CHAPTER XIII. BY MARY AUSTIN + + +Close on Young Remington's groan of utter disillusionment came a sound +from the street, formless and clumsy, but brought to a sharp climax with +the crash of breaking glass. + +Even through the closed window which Penfield Evans hastily threw up, +there was an obvious quality to the disturbance which revealed its +character even before they had grasped its import. + +The street was still full of morning shadows, with here and there +a dancing glimmer on the cobbles of the still level sun, caught on +swinging dinner pails as the loosely assorted crowd drifted toward shop +and factory. + +In many of the windows half-drawn blinds marked where spruce window +trimmers added last touches to masterpieces created overnight, but +directly opposite nothing screened the offense of the Voiceless Speech, +which continued to display its accusing questions to the passer-by. + +Clean through the plate-glass front a stone had crashed, leaving a heap +of shining splinters, on either side of which a score of men and boys +loosely clustered, while further down a ripple of disturbance marked +where the thrower of the stone had just vanished into some recognized +port of safety. + +It was a clumsy crowd, half-hearted, moved chiefly by a cruel delight +in destruction for its own sake, and giving voice at intervals to +coarse comment of which the wittiest penetrated through a stream +of profanity, like one of those same splinters of glass, to the +consciousness of at least two of the three men who hung listening in the +window above: + +"To hell with the----suffragists!" + +At the same moment another stone hurled through the break sent the +Voiceless Speech toppling; it lay crumpled in a pathetic feminine sort +of heap, subject to ribald laughter, but Penny Evans' involuntary cry +of protest was cut off by his partner's hand on his shoulder. "They're +Noonan's men, Penny; it's a put-up job." + +George had marked some of the crowd at the meetings Noonan had arranged +for him, and the last touch to the perfunctory character of the +disturbance was added by the leisurely stroll of the policeman turning +in at the head of the street. Before he reached the crowd it had +redissolved into the rapidly filling thoroughfare. + +"It's no use, Penny. Our women have seen the light and beaten us to it; +we've got to go with them or with Noonan and his--Mike the Goat!" + +Recollection of his wife's plight cut him like a knife. "The +Brewster-Smith women have got to choose for themselves!" He felt about +for his hat like a man blind with purpose. + +The street sweeper was taking up the fragments of the shattered windows +half an hour later, when Martin Jaffry found himself going rather +aimlessly along Main Street with a feeling that the bottom had recently +dropped out of things--a sensation which, if the truth must be told, +was greatly augmented by the fact that he hadn't yet breakfasted. He had +remained behind the two younger men to get into communication with Betty +Sheridan and ask her to stay close to the telephone in case Miss Eliot +should again attempt to get into touch with her. He lingered still, +dreading to go into any of the places where he was known lest he should +somehow be led to commit himself embarrassingly on the subject of his +nephew's candidacy. + +His middle-aged jauntiness considerably awry, he moved slowly down the +heedless street, subject to the most gloomy reflections. Like most men, +Martin Jaffry had always been dimly aware that the fabric of society is +held together by a system of mutual weaknesses and condonings, but he +had always thought of himself and his own family as moving freely in the +interstices, peculiarly exempt, under Providence, from strain. Now +here they were, in such a position that the first stumbling foot might +tighten them all into inextricable scandal. + +It is true that Penny, at the last moment, had prevailed on George +to put off the relief of his feelings by public repudiation of his +political connections, at least until after a conference with the +police. And to George's fear that the newspapers would get the news from +the police before he had had a chance to repudiate, he had countered +with a suggestion, drawn from an item in the private history of the +chief--known to him through his father's business--which he felt certain +would quicken the chief's sense of the propriety of keeping George's +predicament from the press. + +"My God!" said George in amazement, and Martin Jaffry had responded +fervently with "O Lord!" + +Not because it shocked him to think that there might be indiscretions +known to the lawyer of a chief of police which the chief might not wish +known to the world, but because, with the addition of this new coil to +his nephew's affairs, he was suddenly struck with the possibility of +still other coils in any one of which the saving element of indiscretion +might be wanting. + +Suppose they should come upon one, just one impregnable honesty, one +soul whom the fear of exposure left unshaken. On such a possibility +rested the exemption of the Jaffry-Remingtons. It was the reference to +E. Eliot in his instructions to Betty which had awakened in Jaffry's +mind the disquieting reflection that just here might prove such an +impregnability. They probably wouldn't be able to "do anything" with E. +Eliot simply because she herself had never done anything she was afraid +to go to the public about. To do him justice, it never occurred to him +that in the case of a lady it was easily possible to invent something +which would be made to answer in place of an indiscretion. + +Probably that was Martin Jaffry's own impregnability--that he wouldn't +have lied about a lady to save himself. What he did conclude was that +it was just this unbending quality of women, this failure to provide the +saving weakness, which unfitted them for political life. + +He shuddered, seeing the whole fabric of politics fall in ruins around +an electorate composed largely of E. Eliots, feeling himself stripped +of everything that had so far distinguished him from the Noonans and the +Doolittles. + +Out of his sudden need for reinstatement with himself, he raised in his +mind the vision of woman as the men of Martin Jaffry's world conceived +her--a tender, enveloping medium in which male complacency, unchecked +by any breath of criticism, reaches its perfect flower--the flower whose +fruit, eaten in secret and afar from the soil which nourishes it, is +graft, corruption and civic incompetence. + +Instinctively his need directed him toward the Remington place. + +Mrs. Brewster-Smith was glad to see him. Between George's hurried +departure and Jaffry's return several of the specters that haunt such +women's lives looked boldly in at the window. + +There was the specter of scandal, as it touched the Remingtons, touching +that dearest purchase of femininity, social standing; there was the +specter of poverty, which threatened from the exposure of the source of +her income and the enforcement of the law; nearer and quite as poignant, +was the specter of an ignominious retreat from the comfort of George +Remington's house to her former lodging, which she was shrewd enough to +realize would follow close on the return of her cousin's wife. + +All morning she had beaten off the invisible host with that +courage--worthy of a better cause--with which women of her class +confront the assaults of reality; and the sight of Martin Jaffry coming +up the broad front walk met her like a warm waft of security. She flung +open the door and met him with just that mixture of deference and relief +which the situation demanded. + +She was terribly anxious about poor Genevieve, of course, but not +so anxious that she couldn't perceive how Genevieve's poor uncle had +suffered. + +"What, no breakfast! Oh, you poor man! Come right out into the +dining-room." + +Mrs. Brewster-Smith might have her limitations, but she was entirely +aware of the appeasing effect of an open fire and a spread cloth +even when no meal is in sight; she was adept in the art of enveloping +tenderness and the extent to which it may be augmented by the pleasing +aroma of ham and eggs and the coffee which she made herself. And oh, +those _poor_ women, what _disaster_ they were bringing on themselves by +their prying into things that were better left to more competent minds, +and what pain to _other_ minds! So _selfish_, but of course they didn't +realize. Really she hoped it would be a lesson to Genevieve. The dear +girl was so changed that she didn't see how she was going to go on +living with her; though, of course, she would like to stand by dear +George--and a woman did so appreciate a home! + +At this point the enveloping tenderness of Mrs. Brewster-Smith +concentrated in her fine eyes, just brushed the heart of her listener +as with a passing wing, hovered a moment, and dropped demurely to the +tablecloth. + +In the meantime two sorely perplexed citizens were grappling with the +problem of the disappearance of two highly respectable women from their +homes under circumstances calculated to give the greatest anxiety to +faithful "party" men. It hadn't needed Penny's professional acquaintance +with Chief Buckley to impress the need of secrecy on that official's +soul. "Squeal" on Noonan or Mike the Goat? Not if he knew himself. +Naturally Mr. Remington must have his wife, but at the same time it was +important to proceed regularly. + +"And the day before election, too!" mourned the chief. "Lord, what a +mess! But keep cool, Mr. Remington; this will come out all right!" + +After half an hour of such ineptitudes, Penfield Evans found it +necessary to withdraw his partner from the vicinity of the police before +his impatience reached the homicidal pitch. + +"Buckley's no such fool as he sounds," Penny advised. "He probably has a +pretty good idea where the women are hidden, but you must give him time +to tip off Mike for a getaway." + +But the suggestion proved ill chosen, at least so far as it involved a +hope of keeping George from the newspapers. Shocked to the core of his +young egotism as he had been, Remington was yet not so shocked that +the need of expression was not stronger in him than any more distant +consideration. + +"Getaway!" he frothed. "Getaway! While a woman like my wife--" But the +bare idea was too much for him. + +"They may get away, but they'll not get off--not a damned one of +them--of _us_," he corrected himself, and with face working the popular +young candidate for district attorney set off almost on a run for the +office of the Sentinel. + +Reflecting that if his friend was bent upon official suicide, there was +still no reason for his being, a witness to it, Penny turned aside into +a telephone booth and called up Betty Sheridan. He heard her jump at +the sound of his voice, and the rising breath of relief running into his +name. + +"O-o-oh, Penny! Yes, about twenty minutes ago. Genevieve is with her.... +Oh, yes, I'm sure." + +Her voice sounded strong and confident. + +"They're in a house about an hour from the factory," she went on, "among +some trees. I'm sure she said trees. We were cut off. No, I couldn't get +her again.... Yes... it's a party line. In the Redfield district. Oh, +Penny, do you think they'll do her any harm?" + +It was, no doubt, the length of time it took to assure Miss Sheridan on +this point that prevented Evans from getting around to the _Sentinel_, +whose editor was at that moment giving an excellent exhibition of +indecision between his obligation as a journalist and his role of +leading citizen in a town where he met his subscribers at dinner. + +It was good stuff--oh, it was good! What headlines! + +PROMINENT SOCIETY WOMEN KIDNAPPED + +CANDIDATE REMINGTON REPUDIATES PARTY! + +It was good for a double evening edition. On the other hand, there was +Norton, one of his largest advertisers. There was also the rival city +of Hamilton, which was even now basely attempting to win away from +Whitewater a recently offered Carnegie library on the ground of its +superior fitness. + +Finally there was the party. + +The _Sentinel_ had always been a sound party organ. But _what_ a scoop! +And suppose it were possible to save the party at the expense of +its worst element? Suppose they raised the cry of reform and brought +Remington in on a full tide of public indignation? + +Would Mike stand the gaff? If it were made worth his while. But what +about Noonan and Doolittle? So the editorial mind shuttled to and fro +amid the confused outpourings of the amazed young candidate, while with +eyes bright and considering as a rat's the editor followed Remington in +his pacings up and down the dusty, littered room. + +Completely occupied with his own reactions, George's repudiation swept +on in an angry, rapid stream which, as it spent itself, began to give +place to the benumbing consciousness of a divided hearing. + +Until this moment Remington had had a pleasant sense of the press as +a fine instrument upon which he had played with increasing mastery, a +trumpet upon which, as his mind filled with commendable purposes, +he could blow a very pretty tune,--a noble tune with now and then a +graceful flourish acceptable to the public ear. Now as he talked he +began to be aware of flatness, of squeaking keys.... + +"Naturally, Mr. Remington, I'll have to take this up with the business +management..." dry-lipped, the tune sputtered out. At this juncture the +born journalist awaked again in the editorial breast at the entrance of +Penfield Evans with his new item of Betty's interrupted message. + +Two women shut up in a mysterious house among the trees! Oh, hot stuff, +indeed! + +Under it George rallied, recovered a little of the candidate's manner. + +"Understand," he insisted. "This goes in even if I have to pay for it at +advertising rates." + +A swift pencil raced across the paper as Remington's partner swept him +off again to the police. + +Betty's call had come a few minutes before ten. What had happened was +very simple. + +The two women had been given breakfast, for which their hands had been +momentarily freed. When the bonds had been tied again it had been easy +for E. Eliot to hold her hands in such a position that she was left, +when their keeper withdrew, with a little freedom of movement. + +By backing up to the knob she had been able to open a door into an +adjoining room, in which she had been able to make out a telephone on a +stand against the wall. + +This room also had locked windows and closed shutters, but her quick wit +had enabled her to make use of that telephone. + +Shouldering the receiver out of the hook, she had called Betty's number, +and, with Genevieve stooping to listen at the dangling receiver, had +called out two or three broken sentences. + +Guarded as their voices had been, however, some one in the house had +been attracted by them, and the wire had been cut at some point outside +the room. E. Eliot and Genevieve came to this conclusion after having +lost Betty and failed to raise any answer to their repeated calls. +Somebody came and looked in at them through the half-open door, and, +seeing them still bound, had gone away again with a short, contemptuous +laugh. + +"No matter," said E. Eliot. "Betty heard us, and the central office will +be able to trace the call." + +It was because she could depend on Betty's intelligence, she went on to +say, that she had called her instead of the Remington house--for suppose +that fool Brewster-Smith woman had come to the telephone! + +She and Genevieve occupied themselves with their bonds, fumbling back +to back for a while, until Genevieve had a brilliant idea. Kneeling, +she bit at the cords which held Miss Eliot's wrists until they began to +give. + + * * * * * + +What Betty had done intelligently was nothing to what she had done +without meaning it. She had been unkind to Pudge. Young Sheridan was in +a condition which, according to his own way of looking at it, demanded +the utmost kindness. + +Following a too free indulgence in _marrons glaces_ he had been +relegated to a diet that reduced him to the extremity of desperation. + +Not only had he been forbidden to eat sweets, but while his soul still +longed for its accustomed solace, his stomach refused it, and he was +unable to eat a box of candied fruit which he had with the greatest +ingenuity secured. + +And that was the occasion Betty took--herself full of nervous starts and +mysterious recourse to the telephone behind locked doors--to remind him +cruelly that he was getting flabby from staying too much in the house +and to recommend a long walk for his good. + +It was plain that she would stick at nothing to get her brother out of +the way, and Pudge was cut to the heart. + +Oh, well, he would go for a walk, from which he would probably be +brought home a limp and helpless cripple. Come to think of it, if he +once got started to walk he was not sure he would ever turn back; he +would just walk on and on into a kinder environment than this. + +After all, it is impossible to walk in that fateful way in a crowded +city thoroughfare. Besides, one passes so many confectioners with their +mingled temptation and disgust. Pudge rode on the trolley as far as +the city limits. Here there was softer ground underfoot and a hint +of melancholy in the fields. A flock of crows going over gave the +appropriate note. + +Off there to the left, set back from the road among dark, crowding +trees, stood a mysterious house. Pudge always insisted that he had +known it for mysterious at the first glance. It had a mansard roof and +shutters of a sickly green, all closed; there was not a sign of life +about, but smoke issued from one of the chimneys. + +Here was an item potent to raise the sleuth that slumbers in every boy, +even in such well-cushioned bosoms as Pudge Sheridan's. + +He paused in his walk, fell into an elaborately careless slouch, and +tacked across the open country toward the back of the house. Here he +discovered a considerable yard fenced with high boards that had once +been painted the same sickly green as the shutters, and a great buckeye +tree just outside, spreading its branches over the corner furthest from +the house. + +Toward this post of observation he was drifting with that fine +assumption of aimlessness which can be managed on occasion by almost any +boy, when he was arrested by a slight but unmistakable shaking of one of +the shutters, as though some one from within were trying the fastenings. + +The shaking stopped after a moment, and then, one after another, the +slats of the double leaves were seen to turn and close as though for a +secret survey of the field. After a moment or two this performance was +repeated at the next window on the left, and finally at a third. + +Here the shaking was resumed after the survey, and ended with the +shutter opening with a snap and being caught back from within and +held cautiously on the crack. Pudge kicked clods in his path and was +pretentiously occupied with a dead beetle which he had picked up. + +All at once something flickered across the ground at his feet, swung two +or three times, touched his shoe, traveled up the length of his trousers +and rested on his breast. How that bosom leaped to the adventure! + +He fished hurriedly in his pocket and brought up a small round mirror. +It had still attached to its rim a bit of the ribbon by which it had +been fastened to his sister's shopping bag, from which, if the truth +must be told, he had surreptitiously detached it. + +Pretending to consult it, as though it were some sort of pocket oracle, +Pudge flashed back, and presently had the satisfaction of seeing a +bright fleck of light travel across the shutter. Immediately there was +a responsive flicker from the window: one, two, three, he counted, and +flashed back: one, two, three. + +Pudge's whole being was suffused with delicious thrills. He wished now +he had obeyed that oft-experienced presentiment and learned the Morse +code; it was a thing no man destined for adventure should be without. +This wordless interchange went on for a few moments, and then a hand, +a woman's hand--O fair, imprisoned ladies of all time!--appeared +cautiously at the open shutter, waved and pointed. + +It pointed toward the buckeye tree. Pudge threw a stone in that +direction and sauntered after it, pitching and throwing. Once at the +corner, after a suitable exhibition of casualness, he climbed until he +found himself higher than the fence, facing the house. + +While he was thus occupied, things had been happening there. The shutter +had been thrown back and a woman was climbing down by the help of a +window ledge below and a pair of knotted window curtains. + +Another woman prepared to follow her, gesticulating forcibly to the +other not to wait, but to run. Run she did, but it was not until Pudge, +lying full length on the buckeye bough, reached her a hand that he +discovered her to be his sister's friend, Genevieve Remington. + +In the interval of her scrambling up by the aid of the bent bough and +such help as he could give her, they had neglected to observe the other +woman. Now, as Mrs. Remington's heels drummed on the outside of the +fence, Pudge was aware of some commotion in the direction of the house, +and saw Miss Eliot running toward him, crying: "Run, run!" while two +men pursued her. She made a desperate jump toward the tree, caught +the branch, hung for a moment, lost her hold, and brought Pudge +ignominiously down in a heap beside her. + +If Miss Eliot had not contradicted it, Pudge would have believed to his +dying day that bullets hurtled through the air; it was so necessary to +the dramatic character of the adventure that there should be bullets. +He recovered from the shock of his fall in time to hear Miss Eliot +say: "Better not touch me, Mike; if there's so much as a bruise when my +friends find me, you'll get sent up for it." + +Her cool, even tones cut the man's stream of profanity like a knife. +He came threateningly close to her, but refrained from laying hands on +either of them. + +Meantime his companion drew himself up to the top of the fence for a +look over, and dropped back with a gesture intended to be reassuring. +Pudge rose gloriously to the occasion. + +"The others have gone back to call the police," he announced. Mike spat +out an oath at him, but it was easy to see that he was not at all sure +that this might not be the case. The possibility that it might be, +checked a movement to pursue the fleeing Genevieve. Miss Eliot caught +their indecision with a flying shaft. + +"Mrs. George Remington," she said, "will probably be in communication +with her friends very shortly. And between his wife and his old and dear +friend Mike it won't take George Remington long to choose." + +This was so obvious that it left the men nothing to say. They fell in +surlily on either side of her, and without any show of resistance she +walked calmly back toward the house. Pudge lingered, uncertain of his +cue. + +"Beat it, you putty-face!" Mike snarled at him, showing a yellow fang. +"If you ain't off the premises in about two shakes, you'll get what's +comin' to you. See?" + +Pudge walked with as much dignity as he could muster in the direction +of the public road. He could see nothing of Mrs. Remington in either +direction; now and then a private motor whizzed by, but there was no +other house near enough to suggest a possibility of calling for help. + +He concealed himself in a group of black locusts and waited. In about +half an hour he heard a car coming from the house with the mansard roof, +and saw that it held three occupants, two men and a woman. The men +he recognized, and he was certain that the woman, though she was well +bundled up, was not E. Eliot. + +The motor turned away from the town and disappeared in the opposite +direction. Pudge surmised that Mike was making his getaway. He waited +another half hour and began to be assailed by the pangs of hunger. The +house gave no sign; even the smoke from the chimney stopped. + +He was sure Miss Eliot was still there; imagination pictured her +weltering in her own gore. Between fear and curiosity and the saving +hope that there might be food of some sort in the house, Pudge left his +hiding place and began a stealthy approach. + +He came to the low stoop and crept up to the closed front door. Hovering +between fear and courage, he knocked. But there was no response. With +growing boldness he tried the door. It was locked. + +The rear door also was bolted; but, creeping on, he found a high +side window that the keepers of this prison in their hasty flight had +forgotten to close. With the aid of an empty rain barrel, which he +overturned and rolled into position, Pudge scrambled with much hard +breathing through the window and dropped into the kitchen. Here he +listened; his ears could discern no sound. On tiptoe he crept through +the rooms of the first floor--but came upon neither furtive enemy nor +imprisoned friend. Up the narrow stairway he crept--peeped into +three bedrooms--and finally opening the door of what was evidently a +storeroom, he found the object of his search. + +E. Eliot sat in an old splint-bottomed chair--gagged, arms tied behind +her and to the chair's back, and her ankles tied to the chair's legs. In +a moment Pudge had the knotted towel out of her mouth, and had cut her +bonds. But quick though Pudge was, to her he seemed intolerably slow; +just then E. Eliot was thinking of only one thing. + +This was the final afternoon of the campaign and she was away out here, +far from all the great things that might be going on. + +She gave a single stretch of her cramped muscles as she rose. "I know +you--you're Betty Sheridan's brother--thanks," she said briskly. "What +time is it?" + +Pudge drew out his most esteemed possession, a watch which kept perfect +time--except when it refused to keep any time at all. + +"Three o'clock," he announced. + +"Then our last demonstration is under way, and when I tell my story--" +E. Eliot interrupted herself. "Come on--let's catch the trolley!" + +With Pudge panting after her, she hurried downstairs, unbolted the door, +and, running lightly on the balls of her feet, sped in the direction of +the street car line. + + + +CHAPTER XIV. BY LEROY SCOTT + + +In the meantime, concern and suspense and irruptive wrath had their +chief abode in the inner room of Remington and Evans. George had +received a request, through Penny Evans, from the chief of police to +remain in his office, where he could be reached instantly if information +concerning Genevieve were received, and where his help could instantly +be secured were it required; and Penny had enlarged that request to the +magnitude of a command and had stood by to see that it was obeyed, and +himself to give assistance. + +George had recognized the sense of the order, but he rebelled at the +enforced inactivity. Where was Genevieve?--why wasn't he out doing +something for her? He strode about the office, fuming, sick with the +suspense and inaction of his role. + +But Genevieve was not his unbroken concern. He was still afire with the +high resentment which a few hours earlier had made him go striding into +the office of the _Sentinel_. Fragments of his statement to the editor +leaped into his mind; and as he strode up and down he repeated phrases +silently, but with fierce emphasis of the soul. + +Now and again he paused at his window and looked down into Main Street. +Below him was a crowd that was growing in size and disorder: the last +afternoon of any campaign in Whitewater was exciting enough; much more +so were the final hours of this campaign that marked the first entrance +of women into politics in Whitewater on a scale and with an organized +energy that might affect the outcome of the morrow's voting. + +Across the way, Mrs. Herrington, the fighting blood of five generations +of patriots roused in her, had reinstated the Voiceless Speech within +the plate-glass window broken by the stones of that morning and was +herself operating it; and, armed with banners, groups of women from +the Woman's Club, the Municipal League and the Suffrage Society +were marching up and down the street sidewalks. It was their final +demonstration, their last chance to assert the demands of good +citizenship--and it had attracted hundreds of curious men, vote-owners, +belonging to what, in such periods of political struggle, are referred +to on platforms as "our better element." + +Also drifting into Main Street were groups of voters of less +prepossessing aspect--Noonan's men, George recognized them to be. These +jeered and jostled the marching women and hooted the remarks of the +Voiceless Speech--but the women, disregarding insults and attacks, went +on with their silent campaigning. The feeling was high--and George could +see, as Noonan's men kept drifting into Main Street, that feeling was +growing higher. + +Looking down, George felt an angered exultation. Well, his statement in +the _Sentinel_, due upon the street almost any moment, would answer all +these and give them something to think about!--a statement which would +make an even greater stir than the declaration which he had issued +those many weeks ago, when, fresh from his honeymoon, he had begun his +campaign for the district attorneyship.--[Illustration: Across the way, +Mrs. Herrington, the fighting blood of five generations of patriots +roused in her, had reinstated the Voiceless Speech.] These people below +certainly had a jolt coming to them! + +George's impatient and glowering meditations--the hour was then near +four--were broken in upon by several interruptions, which came on him in +quick succession, as though detonated by brief-interval time-fuses. The +first was the entrance of that straw-haired misspeller of his letters +who had succeeded Betty Sheridan as guardian of the outer office. + +"Mr. Doolittle is here," she announced. "He says he wants to see you." + +"You tell Mr. Doolittle _I_ don't want to see _him_!" commanded the +irritated George. + +But Mr. Benjamin Doolittle was already seeing his candidate. As +political boss of his party, he had little regard for such a formality +as being announced to any person on whom he might call--so he had walked +through the open door. + +"Well, what d'you want, Doolittle?" George demanded aggressively. + +Mr. Doolittle's face wore that look of bland solicitude, that +unobtrusive partnership in the misfortune of others, which had made +him such an admirable and prosperous officiant at the last rites of +residents of Whitewater. + +"I just wanted to ask you, George--" he was beginning in his soft, +lily-of-the-valley voice, when the telephone on George's desk started +ringing. George turned and reached for it, to find that Penny had +already picked up the instrument. + +"I'll answer it, George.... Hello... Mr. Remington is here, but is busy; +I'll speak for him--I'm Mr. Evans.... What--it's you! Where are you?... +Stay where you are; I'll come right over for you in my car." + +"Who was that?" demanded George. + +"Genevieve," Penny said rapidly, seizing his hat, "and I'm going----" + +"So am I!" exclaimed George. + +"Not till we've had a little understanding," sharply put in Doolittle, +blocking his way. + +"Stay here, George," his partner snapped out--"she's perfectly +safe--just a little out of breath--telephoned from a drug store over in +the Red-field district. I'll have her back here in fifteen minutes." And +out Penny dashed, slamming the door. + +But perhaps it was the straw-haired successor of Betty Sheridan who +really prevented George from plunging after his partner. + +"You ordered the _Sentinel_ sent up as soon as it was out," she said. +"Here are six copies." + +George seized the ink-damp papers, and as the straw-haired one walked +out in rubber-heeled silence he turned savagely upon his campaign +manager. + +"Well, Doolittle?" he demanded. + +"I just want to ask you, George----" + +George exploded. "Oh, you just want to ask me! Well, everything you want +to ask me is answered in that paper. Read it!" + +Doolittle took the copy of the _Sentinel_ which was thrust into his +hands. George watched him with triumphant grimness, awaiting the effect +of the bomb about to explode in the other's face. Mr. Doolittle unfolded +the _Sentinel_--looked it slowly through--then raised his eyes +to George. His face seemed somewhat puzzled, but otherwise it was +overspread with that sympathetic concern which, as much as his hearse +and his folding-chairs, was a part of his professional equipment. + +"Why, George. I don't just get what you're driving at." + +Forgetting that he was holding several copies of the Sentinel, George +dropped them all upon the floor and seized the paper from Mr. Doolittle. +He glanced swiftly over the first page--and experienced the highest +voltage shock of his young public career. Feverishly he skimmed the +remaining pages. But of all that he had poured out in the office of the +_Sentinel_, not one word was in print. + +Automatically clutching the paper in a hand that fell to his side, he +stared blankly at his campaign manager. Mr. Doolittle gazed back with +his air of sympathetic concern, bewildered questioning in his eyes. And +for a space, despite the increasing uproar down in the street, there was +a most perfect silence in the inner office of Remington and Evans. + +Before either of the two men could speak, the door was violently flung +open and Martin Jaffry appeared. His clothing was disarranged, his +manner agitated--in striking contrast to the dapper and composed +appearance usual to that middle-aged little gentleman. + +"George," he panted, "heard anything about Genevieve?" + +"She's safe. Penny's got charge of her by this time." + +His answer was almost mechanical. + +"Thank God!" Uncle Martin collapsed in one of the office chairs. +"Mind--if sit here minute--get my breath." + +George did not reply, for he had not heard. He was gazing steadily at +Mr. Doolittle; some great, but as yet shapeless, force was surging up +dazingly within him. But he somehow held himself in control. + +"Well, Doolittle," he demanded, "you said you came to ask something." + +Mr. Doolittle's manner was still propitiatingly bland. "I'll mention +something else first, George, if you don't mind. You just remarked I'd +find your answer in the _Sentinel_. There must 'a' been some little +slip-up somewhere. So I guess I better mention first that the _Sentinel_ +has arranged to stand ready to get out an extra." + +"An extra! What for?" + +"Principally, George, I reckon to print those answers you just spoke +of." + +George still kept that mounting something under his control. "Answers to +what?" + +"Why, George," the other replied softly, persuasively. "I guess we'd +better have a little chat--as man to man--about politics. Meaning no +offense, George, stalling is all right in politics--but this time +you've carried this stalling act a little too far. As the result of your +tactics, George, why here's all this disorder in our streets--and the +afternoon before election. If you'd only really tried to stop these +messing women----" + +"I didn't try to stop them by kidnapping them!" burst from George--and +Uncle Martin, his breath recovered, now sat up, clutching his homespun +cap. + +"Kidnapping women?" queried the bland, bewildered voice of the party +boss. "I say, George, I don't know what you're talking about." "Why, +you--" But George caught himself. "Speak it out, Doolittle--what do you +want?" + +"Since you ask it so frankly, George, I'll try to put it plain: You +been going along handing out high-sounding generalities. There's nothing +better and safer than generalities--usually. But this ain't no usual +case, George. These women, stirring everything up, have got the solid +interests so unsettled that they don't know where they're at--or where +you're at. And a lot of boys in the organization feel the same way. What +the crisis needs, George, is a plain statement of your intentions as +district attorney, which we can get into that _Sentinel_ extra and which +will reassure the public--and the organization." + +"A plain statement?" There was a grim set to George's jaw. + +"Oh, it needn't go into too many details. Just what you might call a +ringing declaration about this being the greatest era of prosperity +Whitewater has ever known, and that you conceive it to be the duty of +your administration to protect and stimulate this prosperity. The people +will understand, and the organization will understand. I guess you get +what I mean, George." + +"Yes, I get what you mean!" exploded George, his fist crashing upon the +table. "You mean you want me to be a complacent accessory to all the +legal evasions that you and your political gang and the rich bunch +behind you may want to get away with! You want me to be a crook in +office! By God, Doolittle----" + +"Shut up, Remington," snapped the political boss, his soft manner now +vanished, his whole aspect now grimly menacing. "I know the rest of what +you're going to say. I was pretty certain what it 'ud be before I came +here, but I had to know for sure. Well, I know now, all right!" + +His lank jaws snapped again. + +"Since you are not going to represent the people that put you up, I +demand your written withdrawal as candidate for the district attorney's +office." + +"And I refuse to give it!" cried George. "I was nominated by a +convention, not by you. And I don't believe the party is as crooked as +you--anyhow I'm going to give the decent members of the party a chance +to vote decently! And you can't remove me from the ballot, either, for +the ballot is already printed and----" + +"That'll do you no----" + +"I thought some time ago I was through with this political mess," George +drove on. "But, Doolittle, damn you, I've just begun to get in it! And +I'm going to see it through to the finish!" + +Suddenly a thin little figure thrust itself between the bellicose pair +and began shaking George's hand. It was Martin Jaffry. + +"George--I guess I'm my share of an old scoundrel--and a trimmer--but +hearing some one stand up and talk man's talk--" He broke off to shake +George's hand again. "I thought you were the king of boobs--but, boy, +I'm with you to wherever you want to go--if my money will last that +far!" + +"Keep out of this, Jaffry," roughly growled Doolittle. "It's too late +for your dough to help this young pup. Remington, we may not take you +off the ballot, but the organization kin send out word to the boys----" + +"To knife me! Of course, I expect that! All right--go to it! But I'm on +the ballot--you can't deprive people of the chance of voting for me. And +I shall announce myself an independent and shall run as one!" + +"We may not be able to elect our own nominee," harshly continued +Doolittle, "but we kin send out word to back the Democratic candidate. +Miller ain't much, but, at least, he's a soft man. And that _Sentinel_ +extra is going to say that a feeling has spread among the respectable +element that it has lost confidence in you, and is going to say that +prominent party members feel the party has made a mistake in ever +putting you up. So run, damn you--run as a Democrat, a Republican, an +Independent--but how are you going to git it across to the public in a +way to do yourself any good--without backing? How are you going to git +it across to the public?" + +His last words, flung out with overmastering fury, brought George up +short, and he saw this. Doolittle's wrath had mounted to that pitch +which should never be reached by the resentment of a practical +politician; it had attained such force that it drove him on to taunt his +man. "How are you going to git it before the public?" he again demanded, +eyes agleam with triumphant rancor--"with us shutting you off and +hammering you on one side?--and them damned messy women across the +street hammering you from the other side? Oh, it's a grand chance you +have--one little old grand chance! Especially with those dear damned +females loving you like they do! Jest take a look at what the bunch over +there are doing to you!" + +Doolittle followed his own taunting suggestion; and George, too, glanced +through his window across the crowded street into the shattered window +whence issued the Voiceless Speech. In that jagged frame in the raw +November air still stood Mrs. Harvey Herrington, turning the giant +leaves of her soundless oratory. The heckling request which then struck +George's eyes began: "_Will Candidate Remington answer_----" + +George Remington read no more. His already tense figure suddenly +stiffened; he caught a sharp breath. Then, without a word to the two men +with him, he seized his hat and dashed from his office. The street was +even more a turbulent human sea, with violently twisting eddies, than +had appeared from George's windows. It seemed that every member of the +organizations whom Mrs. Herrington (and also Betty Sheridan, and later +E. Eliot, and, at the last, Genevieve) had brought into this fight, were +now downtown for the supreme effort. And it seemed that there were now +more of the so-called "better citizens." Certainly there were more of +Noonan's men, and these were still elbowing and jostling, and making +little mass rushes--yet otherwise holding themselves ominously in +control. + +Into this milling assemblage George flung himself, so dominated by the +fiery urge within him that he did not hear Genevieve call to him from +Penny's car, which just then swung around the corner and came to a sharp +stop on the skirts of the crowd. George shouldered his way irresistibly +through this mass; the methods of his football days when he had been +famed as a line-plunging back instinctively returned--and, all the +fine chivalry forgotten which had given to his initial statement to the +voters of Whitewater so noble a sound, he battered aside many of those +"fairest flowers of our civilization, to protect whom it is man's duty +and inspiration." + +His lunging progress followed by curses and startled cries of feminine +indignation, he at length emerged upon the opposite sidewalk, and, +breathless and disheveled, he burst into the headquarters of the +Voiceless Speech. + +Some half-dozen of Mrs. Herrington's assistants cried out at his abrupt +entrance. Mrs. Herrington, forward beside the speech, turned quickly +about. + +"Mr. Remington, you here!" she cried in amazement as he strode toward +her. "What--what do you want?" + +"I want--I want--" gasped George. But instead of finishing his sentence +he elbowed Mrs. Herrington out of the way, shoved past her, and stepped +forth in front of the Voiceless Speech. There, standing in the frame of +jagged plate-glass, upon what was equivalent to a platform raised +above the crowd, he sent forth a speech which had a voice. "Ladies and +gentlemen!" he called, raising an imperative hand. The uproar subsided +to numerous exclamations, then to surprised silence; even Noonan's men +checked their disorder at this appearance of their party's candidate. + +"Ladies and gentlemen," and this Voiceful Speech was loud,--"I'm here +to answer the questions of this contrivance behind me. But first let +me tell you that though I'm on the ballot as the candidate of the +Republican party, I do not want the backing of the Republican machine. +I'm running as an Independent, and I shall act as an Independent. + +"Here are my answers: + +"I want to tell you that I shall enforce all the factory laws. + +"I want to tell you that I shall enforce the laws governing housing +conditions--particularly housing conditions in the factory district. + +"I want to tell you that I shall enforce the laws governing child labor +and the laws governing the labor of women. + +"And I want to tell you that I shall enforce every other law, and shall +try to secure the passage of further laws, which will make Whitewater +a clean, forward-looking city, whose first consideration shall be the +welfare of all. + +"And, ladies and gentlemen--" he shouted, for the hushed voices had +begun to rise--"I wish I could address you all as fellow-voters!--I +want to tell you that I take back that foolish statement I made at the +opening of the campaign. + +"I want to tell you that I stand for, and shall fight for, equal +suffrage! + +"And I want to tell you that what has brought this change is what some +of the women of White-water have shown me--and also some of the things +our men politicians have done--our Doolittles, our Noonans----" + +But George's speech terminated right there. Noise there had been before; +now there burst out an uproar, and there came an artillery attack of +eggs, vegetables, stones and bricks. One of the bricks struck George on +the shoulder and drove him staggering back against the Voiceless Speech, +sending that instrument of silent argument crashing to the floor. +Regaining his balance, George started furiously back for the window; but +Mrs. Herrington caught his arm. + +"Let me go!" he called, trying to shake her off. + +But she held on. "Don't--you've said enough!" she cried, and pulled him +toward the rear of the room. "Look!" + +Through the window was coming a heavier fire of impromptu grenades that +rolled, spent, at their feet. But what they saw without was far more +stirring and important. Noonan's men in the crowd, their hoodlumism now +unleashed, were bowling over the people about them; but these really +constituted Noonan's outposts and advance guards. + +From out of two side streets, though George and Mrs. Herrington could +not see their first appearance upon the scene, Noonan's real army +now came charging into Main Street, as per that gentleman's grim +instructions to "show them messin' women what it means to mess in +politics." Hundreds of Whitewater's women were flung about, many +sent sprawling to the pavement, and some hundreds of the city's most +respectable voters, caught unawares, were hustled about and knocked down +by the same ruthless drive. + +"My God!" cried George, impulsively starting forward. "The damned +brutes!" + +But Mrs. Herrington still held his arm. "Come on--they're making a drive +for this office!" breathlessly cried the quick-minded lady. "You can do +no good here. Out the rear way--my car's waiting in the back street." + +Still clutching his sleeve, Mrs. Herrington opened a door and ran across +the back yard of McMonigal's building in a manner which indicated that +that lady had not spent her college years (and similarly spent the years +since then propped among embroidered cushions consuming marshmallows and +fudge.) + +The lot crossed, she hurried through a little grocery and thence into +the street. Here they ran into a party that, seeing the riot on Main +Street and the drive upon the window from which George had spoken, had +rushed up reinforcements from the rear--a party consisting of Penny, +E. Eliot, Betty Sheridan and Genevieve. "Genevieve!" cried George, and +caught her into his arms. + +"Oh, George," she choked. "I--I heard it all--and it--it was simply +wonderful!" + +"George," cried Betty Sheridan, "I always knew, if you got the right +kind of a jolt, you'd be--you'd be what you are!" + +E. Eliot gripped his hand in a clasp almost as strong as George's arm. +"Mr. Remington, if I were a man, I'd like to have the same sort of stuff +in me." + +"George, you old roughneck--" began Penny. + +"George," interrupted Genevieve, still chokingly, her protective, wifely +instinct now at the fore, "I saw you hit, and we're going to take you +straight home----" + +"Cut it all out," interrupted the cultured Mrs. Herrington. "This isn't +Mr. Remington's honeymoon--nor his college reunion--nor the annual +convention of his maiden aunts. This is Mr. Remington's campaign, and +I'm his new campaign manager. And his campaign manager says he's not +going away out to his home on Sheridan Road. His campaign headquarters +are going to be in the center of town, at the Commercial Hotel, where he +can be reached--for there's quick work ahead of us. Come on." + +Five minutes later they were all in the Commercial Hotel's best suite. + +"Now, to business, Mr. Remington," briskly began Mrs. Herrington. "Of +course, that was a good speech. But why, in heaven's name, didn't you +come out with it before?" + +"I guess I really didn't know where I stood until today," confessed +George, "and today I tried to come out with it." + +And George went on to recount his experience with the _Sentinel_--his +scene with Doolittle--and Doolittle's plan for an extra of the Sentinel, +which was doubtless then in preparation. + +"So they've got the _Sentinel_ muzzled, have they--and are going to get +out an extra repudiating you," Mrs. Herrington repeated. There came a +flash into her quick, dark eyes. "I want our candidate to stay right +here--rest up--get his thoughts in order. There are a lot of things to +be done. I'll be back in an hour, Mr. Remington. The rest of you come +along--you, too, Mrs. Remington." + +Mrs. Herrington did not altogether keep her word in the matter of time. +It was two hours before she was back. To George she handed a bundle of +papers, remarking: "Thought you'd like to see that _Sentinel_ extra." + +"I suppose Doolittle has done his worst," he remarked grimly. He +glanced at the paper. His face went loose with bewilderment at what he +saw--headlines, big black headlines, bigger and blacker than he had +ever before seen in the politically and typographically conservative +_Sentinel_. He read through a few lines of print, then looked up. + +"Why, it's all here!" he gasped. "The kidnapping of Miss Eliot and +Genevieve by Noonan's men--my break with Doolittle, my denunciation of +the party's methods, my coming out as an independent candidate--that +riot on Main Street! How on earth did that ever get into the +_Sentinel_?" + +"Some straight talk, and quick talk, and the exercise of a little of +the art of pressure they say you men exercise," was the prompt reply. +"I telephoned Mr. Ledbetter of the _Sentinel_ advising him to hold +the extra Mr. Doolittle had threatened until he heard from Mr. Wesley +Norton, proprietor of the Norton Dry Goods Store. You know, Mr. Norton +is the _Sentinel_'s largest single advertiser and president of the +Whitewater Business Men's Club. + +"Then a committee of us women called on Mr. Norton and told him that +we'd organize the women of the city and would carry on a boycott +campaign against his store--we didn't really put it quite as crudely +as that--unless he'd force the _Sentinel_ to stop Mr. Doolittle's lying +extra and print your statement. + +"Mr. Norton gave in, and telephoned the _Sentinel_ that if it didn't do +as he said he'd cancel his advertising contract. Then, to make sure, +we got hold of Mr. Jaffry, called on Mr. Ledbetter, who called in the +business manager--and your Uncle Martin told them that unless they +printed the truth, and every bit of it, and printed it at once, he was +going to put up the money to start an opposition paper that _would print +the truth_. That explains the extra 'Well'," ejaculated George, still +staring, "you certainly are a wonder as a campaign manager!" + +"Oh, I only did my fraction. That Miss Eliot did as much as I--she's a +find--she's going to be one of Whitewater's really big women. And +Betty Sheridan, you can't guess how Betty's worked--and your wife, Mr. +Remington, she's turning out to be a marvel! + +"But that's not all," Mrs. Herrington continued rapidly. "We bought +ten thousand copies of that extra for ourselves--your uncle paid for +them--and we're going to distribute them in every home in town. When +the best element in Whitewater read how the women were trampled down +by Noonan's mob--well, they'll know how to vote! Mr. Noonan will never +guess how much he has helped us." + +"You seem to have left nothing for me to do," said George. + +"You'll find out there'll be all you'll want," replied the brisk Mrs. +Herrington. "We're organizing meetings--one in every hall in the city, +one on almost every other street corner, and we're going to rush you +from one to the next--most of the night--and there'll be no letup for +you tomorrow, even if it is election day. Yes, you'll find there'll be +plenty to do!" + +The next twenty-four hours were the busiest that George Remington had +ever known in his twenty-six years. + +But at nine o'clock the next evening it was over--the tumult and the +shouting and the congratulations--and all were gone save only Martin +Jaffry; and District-Attorney-Elect Remington sat in his hotel suite +alone in the bosom of his family. + +He was still dazed by what had happened to him--at the part he had +unexpectedly played--dazed by the intense but well-ordered activity of +the women: their management of his whirlwind tour of the city; their +organization of parades with amazing swiftness; their rapid and complete +house-to-house canvass--the work of Mrs. Herrington, of Betty, of +that Miss Eliot, of hundreds of women--and especially of Genevieve. +He marveled especially at Genevieve because he had never thought of +Genevieve as doing such things. But she _had_ done them--he felt +that somehow she was a different Genevieve: he didn't know what the +difference was--he was in too much of a whirl for analysis--but he had +an undefined sense of _aliveness_, of a spirited, joyous initiative in +her. + +She and all the rest seemed so strange as to be unbelievable. And yet, +she--and all of it--true!... + +From dramatic events and intangible qualities of the spirit, his +consciousness shifted to material things--his immediate surroundings. +Not till this blessed moment of relaxation did he become aware of +the discomforts of this suite--nor did Genevieve fully appreciate the +flamboyantly flowered maroon wall-paper and the jig-saw furniture. + +"George,"' she sighed, "now that you're not needed down here, can't we +go home?" + +"Home!" The word came out half snort, half growl--hardly the tone +becoming one whose triumph was so exultingly fresh. With a jar he had +come back to a present which he fully understood. "Damn home! I haven't +any home!" + +Genevieve stared. Uncle Martin snickered, for Uncle Martin had the gift +of understanding. + +"You mean those flowers of womanhood whom chivalrous man----" + +"Shut up," commanded George. He thought for a brief space; then his jaw +set. "Excuse me a moment." + +Drawing hotel stationery toward him, he scribbled rapidly and then +sealed and addressed what he had written. + +"Uncle Martin, your car's outside doing nothing; would you mind going +on ahead and giving this little note to Cousin Alys Brewster-Smith, and +then staying around and having a little supper with Genevieve and me? +We'll be out soon, but there are a few things I want to talk over with +Genevieve alone before we come." + +Uncle Martin would oblige. But when he had gone, there seemed to +be nothing of pressing importance that George had to communicate to +Genevieve. Nor half an hour later, when he led his bride of four months +up to their home, had he delivered himself of anything which seemed to +require privacy. + +As they stepped up on the porch, softly lighted by a frosted bulb in its +ceiling, Cousin Emelene, her cat under her arm, came out of the front +door and hurried past them, without speech. + +"Why, Cousin Emelene!" George called after her. + +She paused and half turned. + +"You--you--" she half choked upon expletives that would not come +forth. "The man will come for my trunks in the morning." Thrusting a +handkerchief to her face, she hurried away. + +"George, what can have happened to her?" cried the amazed Genevieve. + +But George was saved answering her just then. Another figure had emerged +from the front door--a rather largish figure, all in black--her left +hand clutching the right hand of a child, aged, possibly, five. And this +figure did not cower and hurry away. This figure halted, and glowered. + +"George Remington," exclaimed Cousin Alys, "after your +invitation--you--you apostate to chivalry! That outrageous letter! But +if I am leaving your home, thank God I'm leaving it for a home of my +own! Come on, Martin!" + +With that she stalked away, dragging the sleepy Eleanor. + +Not till then did George and Genevieve become aware that Uncle Martin +was before them, having until now been obscured by Mrs. Brewster-Smith's +outraged amplitude. His arms were loaded with coats, obviously feminine. + +"Uncle Martin!" exclaimed George. + +"George," gulped his uncle--"George--" And then he gained control of a +dazed sort of speech. "When I gave her that letter I didn't know it was +a letter of eviction. And the way she broke down before me--a woman, you +know--I--I--well, George, it's my home she's going to." + +"You don't mean----" + +"Yes, George, that's just what I mean. Though, of course, I'm taking +her back now to Mrs. Gallup's boarding-house until--until--good-night, +George; good-night, Genevieve." The little man went staggering down the +walk with his burden of wraps; and after a minute there came the sound +of his six-cylinder roadster buzzing away into the darkness. + +"I didn't tell 'em they had to go tonight," said George doggedly. "But +I did remark that even if every woman had a right to a home, every +woman didn't have the right to make my home her home. Anyhow," his +tone becoming softer, "I've at last got a home of my own. Our own," he +corrected. + +He took her in his arms. "And, sweetheart--it's a better home than when +we first came to it, for now I've got more sense. Now it is a home in +which each of us has the right to think and be what we please." + + * * * * * + +At just about this same hour just about this same scene was being +enacted upon another front porch in Whitewater--there being the slight +difference that this second porch was not softly illuminated by any +frosted globule of incandescence. Up the three steps leading to this +second porch Mr. Penfield Evans had that moment escorted Miss Elizabeth +Sheridan. + +"Good-night, Penny," she said. + +He caught her by her two shoulders. + +"See here, Betty--the last twenty-four hours have been mighty busy +hours--too busy even to talk about ourselves. But now--see here, you're +not going to get away with any rough work like that. Come across, now. +Will you?" + +"Will I what?" + +"Say, how long do you think you're a paid-up subscriber to this little +daily speech of mine?... Well, if I've got to hand you another copy, +here goes. You promised me, on your word of honor, if George swung +around for suffrage, you'd swing around for me. Well, George has come +around. Not that I had much to do with it--but he surely did come +around! Now, the point is, Miss Betty Sheridan, are you a woman of your +promise--are you going to marry me?" + +"Well, if you try to put it that way, demanding your pound of flesh----" +"One hundred and twenty pounds," corrected Penny. + +"I'll say that, of course, I don't love you, but I guess a promise is a +promise--and--and--" And suddenly a pair of strong young arms were flung +about the neck of Mr. Penfield Evans. "Oh, I'm so happy, Penny dear!" + +"Betty!" + +After that there was a long silence... silence broken only by that +softly sibilant detonation which belongs most properly to the month of +June, but confines itself to no season... to a long, long silence +born of and blessed by the gods... until one Percival Sheridan, coming +stealthily home from a late debauch at Humphrey's drug store, and +mounting the steps in the tennis sneakers which were his invariable wear +on dry and non-state occasions, bumped into the invisible and unhearing +couple. + +"Say, there--" gasped the startled youth, backing away. + +Betty gave an affrighted cry--it was a long swift journey down from +where she had just been. Her right hand, reaching drowningly out, fell +upon a familiar shoulder. + +"It's Pudge!" she cried. "Pudge"--shaking him--"snooping around, +listening and trying to spy----" + +"You stop that--it ain't so!" protested the outraged Pudge, his +utterance throttled down somewhat by the chocolate cream in his mouth. + +"Spying on people! And, besides, you've been stuffing yourself with +candy again! You're ruining your stomach with that sticky sweet +stuff--you're headed straight for a candy-fiend's grave. Now, you go +upstairs and to bed!" + +She jerked him toward the door, opened it, and as he was thrust through +the door Pudge felt something, something warm, press impulsively against +a cheek. Not until the door had closed upon him did he realize what +Betty had done to him. He stood dazed for a moment--unbalanced between +impulses. Then the sturdy maleness of fourteen rewon its dominance. + +"Guess I know what they was doing, all right--aw, wouldn't it make you +sick!" And, in disgust which another chocolate cream alleviated hardly +at all, he mounted to his bed. + +Outside there was again silence... faintly disturbed only by that softly +sibilant, almost muted percussion which recalls inevitably the month of +June.... + +THE END + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Sturdy Oak, by Samuel Merwin, et al. + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STURDY OAK *** + +***** This file should be named 8435.txt or 8435.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/8/4/3/8435/ + +Produced by Eric Eldred, David Widger, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: The Sturdy Oak + A composite Novel of American Politics by fourteen American authors + +Author: Samuel Merwin + +Release Date: July, 2005 [EBook #8435] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on July 10, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + + + + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STURDY OAK *** + + + + +Produced by Eric Eldred, David Widger +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + + + +[Illustration] THE STURDY OAK + +A composite Novel of American Politics by fourteen American authors: + +SAMUEL MERWIN +HARRY LEON WILSON +FANNIE HURST +DOROTHY CANFIELD +KATHLEEN NORRIS +HENRY KITCHELL WEBSTER +ANNE O'HAGAN +MARY HEATON VORSE +ALICE DUER MILLER +ETHEL WATTS MUMFORD +MARJORIE BENTON COOKE +WILLIAM ALLEN WHITE +MARY AUSTIN +LEROY SCOTT + + +THEME BY MARY AUSTIN + +The chapters collected and (very cautiously) edited by ELIZABETH JORDAN + +Illustrations by HENRY RALEIGH + +NEW YORK HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY 1917 [Blank-copyright info] PREFACE + +At a certain committee meeting held in the spring of 1916, it was agreed +that fourteen leading American authors, known to be extremely generous as +well as gifted, should be asked to write a composite novel. + +As I was not present at this particular meeting, it was unanimously and +joyously decided by those who were present that I should attend to the +trivial details of getting this novel together. + +It appeared that all I had to do was: + +First, to persuade each of the busy authors on the list to write a chapter +of the novel. + +Second, to keep steadily on their trails from the moment they promised +their chapters until they turned them in. + +Third, to have the novel finished and published serially during the autumn +Campaign of 1917. + +The carrying out of these requirements has not been the childish diversion +it may have seemed. Splendid team work, however, has made success possible. + + +Every author represented, every worker on the team, has gratuitously +contributed his or her services; and every dollar realized by the serial +and book publication of "The Sturdy Oak" will be devoted to the Suffrage +Cause. But the novel itself is first of all a very human story of American +life today. It neither unduly nor unfairly emphasizes the question of equal +suffrage, and it should appeal to all lovers of good fiction. + +Therefore, pausing only to wipe the beads of perspiration from our brows, +we urge every one to buy this book! + +ELIZABETH JORDAN. + +NEW YORK. + +_November_, 1917. CONTENTS + + + +CHAPTER + +I. BY SAMUEL MERWIN + +II. BY HARRY LEON WILSON + +III. BY FANNIE HURST + +IV. BY DOROTHY CANFIELD + +V. BY KATHLEEN NORRIS + +VI. BY HENRY KITCHELL WEBSTER + +VII. BY ANNE O'HAGAN + +VIII. BY MARY HEATON VORSE + +IX. BY ALICE DUER MILLER + +X. BY ETHEL WATTS MUMFORD + +XI. BY MARJORIE BENTON COOK + +XII. BY WILLIAM ALLEN WHITE + +XIII. BY MARY AUSTIN + +XIV. BY LEROY SCOTT ILLUSTRATIONS + +"Nobody ever means that a woman really can't get along without a man's +protection, because look at the women who do" + +It was hard on the darling old boy to come home to Miss Emelene and the cat +and Eleanor and Alys every night! + +"You mean because she's a suffragist? You sent her away for _that!_ Why, +really, that's _tyranny!_" + +Across the way, Mrs. Herrington, the fighting blood of five generations +of patriots roused in her, had reinstated the Voiceless Speech. PRINCIPAL +CHARACTERS + +_George Remington_... Aged twenty-six; newly married. Recently returned to +his home town, New York State, to take up the practice of law. Politically +ambitious, a candidate for District Attorney. Opposed to woman suffrage. + +_Genevieve_... His wife, aged twenty-three, graduate of Smith. Devoted to +George; her ideal being to share his every thought. + +_Betty Sheridan_... A friend of Genevieve. Very pretty; one of the first +families, well-to-do but in search of economic independence. Working as +stenographer in George's office; an ardent Suffragist. + +_Penfield Evans_... Otherwise "Penny," George's partner, in love with +Betty. Neutral on the subject of Suffrage. + +_Alys Brewster-Smith_... Cousin of George, once removed; thirty-three, a +married woman by profession, but temporarily widowed. Anti-suffragist. One +Angel Child aged five. + +_Martin Jaffry_... Uncle to George, bachelor of uncertain age and certain +income. The widow's destined prey. + +_Cousin Emelene_.... On Genevieve's side. Between thirty-five and forty, a +born spinster but clinging to the hope of marriage as the only career for +women. Has a small and decreasing income. Affectedly feminine and genuinely +incompetent. + + +_Mrs. Harvey Herrington_.... President of the Woman's Club, the Municipal +League, Suffrage Society leader, wealthy, cultured and possessing a sense +of humor. + +_Percival Pauncefoot Sheridan_.... Betty's brother, fifteen, commonly +called Pudge. Pink, pudgy, sensitive; always imposed upon, always grouchy +and too good-natured to assert himself. + +_E. Eliot_.... Real estate agent (added in Chapter VI by Henry Kitchell +Webster). + +_Benjamin Doolittle_.... A leader of his party, and somewhat careless where +he leads it. (Added in Anne O'Hagan's Chapter). + +_Patrick Noonan_.... A follower of Doolittle. + +Time.... The Present. + +Place.... Whitewater, N. Y. A manufacturing town of from ten to fifteen +thousand inhabitants. + + + + +THE STURDY OAK + + +CHAPTER I + +BY SAMUEL MERWIN + + +Genevieve Remington had been called beautiful. She was tall, with brown +eyes and a fine spun mass of golden-brown hair. She had a gentle smile, +that disclosed white, even teeth. Her voice was not unmusical. She was +twenty-three years old and possessed a husband who, though only twenty-six, +had already shown such strength of character and such aptitude at the +criminal branch of the law that he was now a candidate for the post of +district attorney on the regular Republican ticket. + +The popular impression was that he would be elected hands down. His address +on Alexander Hamilton at the Union League Club banquet at Hamilton City, +twenty-five miles from Whitewater (with which smaller city we are concerned +in this narrative), had been reprinted in full in the Hamilton City +_Tribune_; and Mrs. Brewster-Smith reported that former Congressman Hancock +had compared it, not unfavorably, with certain public utterances of the +Honorable Elihu Root. + +George Remington was an inch more than six feet tall, with sturdy +shoulders, a chin that gave every indication of stubborn strength, a frank +smile, and a warm, strong handclasp. He was connected by blood (as well as +by marriage) with five of the eight best families in Whitewater. Mr. Martin +Jaffry, George's uncle and sole inheritor of the great Jaffry estate (and a +bachelor), was known to favor his candidacy; was supposed, indeed, to be a +large contributor to the Remington campaign fund. In fact, George Remington +was a lucky young man, a coming young man. + +George and Genevieve had been married five weeks; this was their first day +as master and mistress of the old Remington place on Sheridan Road. + +Genevieve, that afternoon, was in the long living-room, trying out various +arrangements of the flowers that had been sent in. There were a great +many flowers. Most of them came from admirers of George. The Young Men's +Republican Club, for one item, had sent eight dozen roses. But Genevieve, +still a-thrill with the magic of her five-weeks-long honeymoon, tremulously +happy in the cumulative proof that her husband was the noblest, strongest, +bravest man alive, felt only joy in his popularity. + +As his wife she shared his triumphs. "For better or worse, for richer or +poorer, in sickness and health ..." the ancient phrases repeated themselves +so many times in her softly confused thought, as she moved about among the +flowers, that they finally took on a rhythm--- + + _"For better or worse, + For richer or poorer, + For richer or poorer, + For better or worse--"_ + + * * * * * + +On this day her life was beginning. She had given herself irrevocably into +the hands of this man. She would live only in him. Her life would find +expression only through his. His strong, trained mind would be her guide, +his sturdy courage her strength. He would build for them both, for the +twain that were one. + +She caught up one red rose, winked the moisture from her eyes, and +gazed--rapt, lips parted, color high--out at the close-clipped lawn behind +the privet hedge. The afternoon would soon be waning--in another hour or +so. She must not disturb him now. + +In an hour, say, she would run up the stairs and tap at his door. And he +would come out, clasp her in his big arms, and she would stand on the tips +of her toes and kiss away the wrinkles between his brows, and they would +walk on the lawn and talk about themselves and the miracle of their love. + +The clock on the mantel struck three. She pouted; turned and stared at it. +"Well," she told herself, "I'll wait until half-past four." + +The doorbell rang. + +Genevieve's color faded. The slim hand that held the rose trembled a very +little. Her first caller! She decided that it would be best not to talk +about George. Not one word about George! Her feelings were her secret--and +his. + +Marie ushered in two ladies. One, who rushed forward with outstretched +hand, was a curiously vital-appearing creature in black--plainly a +widow--hardly more than thirty-two or thirty-three, fresh of skin, rather +prominent as to eyeballs, yet, everything considered, a handsome woman. +This was Alys Brewster-Smith. The other, shorter, slighter, several years +older, a faded, smiling, tremulously hopeful spinster, was Genevieve's own +cousin, Emelene Brand. + +"It's so nice of you to come--" Genevieve began timidly, only to be swept +aside by the superior aggressiveness and the stronger voice of Mrs. +Brewster-Smith. + +"My _dear_! Isn't it perfectly delightful to see you actually mistress of +this wonderful old home. And"--her slightly prominent eyes swiftly took in +furniture, pictures, rugs, flowers,--"how wonderfully you have managed to +give the old place your own tone!" "Nothing has been changed," murmured +Genevieve, a thought bewildered. + +"Nothing, my dear, but yourself! I am _so_ looking forward to a good talk +with you. Emelene and I were speaking of that only this noon. And I can't +tell you how sorry I am that our first call has to be on a miserable +political matter. Tell me, dear, is that wonderful husband of yours at +home?" + +"Why--yes. But I am not to disturb him." + +"Ah, shut away in his den?" + +Genevieve nodded. + +"It's a very important paper he has to write. It has to be done now, before +he is drawn into the whirl of campaign work." + +"Of course! Of course! But I'm afraid the campaign is whirling already. I +will tell you what brought us, my dear. You know of course that Mrs. Harvey +Herrington has come out for suffrage--thrown in her whole personal weight +and, no doubt, her money. I can't understand it--with her home, and her +husband--going into the mire of politics. But that is what she has done. +And Grace Hatfield called up not ten minutes ago to say that she has just +led a delegation of ladies up to your husband's office. Think of it--to his +office! The first day!... Well, Emelene, it is some consolation that they +won't find him there." + +"He isn't going to the office today," said Genevieve. "But what can they +want of him?" + +"To get him to declare for suffrage, my dear." + +"Oh--I'm sure he wouldn't do that!" + +"Are you, my dear? Are you _sure_?" + +"Well----" + +"He has told you his views, of course?" + +Genevieve knit her brows. "Why, yes--of course, we've talked about +things----" + +"My dear, of course he is _against suffrage_." + +"Oh yes, of course. I'm sure he is. Though, you see, I would no more think +of intruding in George's business affairs than he would think of intruding +in my household duties." + +"Naturally, Genevieve. And very sweet and dear of you! But I'm sure you +will see how very important this is. Here we are, right at the beginning +of his campaign. Those vulgar women are going to hound him. They've begun +already. As our committee wrote him last week, it is vitally important that +he should declare himself unequivocally at once." + +"Oh, yes," murmured Genevieve, "of course. I can see that." + +The doors swung open. A thin little man of forty to fifty stood there, a +dry but good-humored man, with many wrinkles about his quizzical blue eyes, +and sandy hair at the sides and back of an otherwise bald head. He was +smartly dressed in a homespun Norfolk suit. He waved a cap of homespun in +greeting. + +"Afternoon, ladies! Genevieve, a bachelor's admiration and respect! I hope +that boy George has got sense enough to be proud of you. But they haven't +at that age. They're all for themselves." + +"Oh no, Uncle Martin," cried Genevieve, "George is the most generous----" + +Mr. Martin Jaffry flicked his cap. "All right. All right! He is." And +slowly retreated. + +Mrs. Brewster-Smith, an eager light in her eyes, moved part way across the +room. "But we can't let you run away like this, Mr. Jaffry. Do sit down +and tell us about the work you are doing at the Country Club. Is it to be +bowling alley _and_ swimming pool----" + +"Bowling alley _and_ swimming pool, yes. Tell me, chick, might a humble +constituent speak to the great man?" + +Genevieve hesitated. "I'm sure he'd love to see you, Uncle Martin. But he +_did_ say----" + +"Not to be disturbed by _any_body, eh?" + +"Yes, Uncle Martin. It's a very important statement he has to prepare +before----" + +"Good day, then. You look fine in the old house, chick!" + +Mr. Jaffry donned his cap of homespun, ran down the steps and out the front +walk, hopped into his eight-cylinder roadster, and was off down the street +in a second. There was a sharp decisiveness about his exit, and about the +sudden speed of his machine; all duly noted by Mrs. Brewster-Smith, who +had gone so far as to move down the room to the front window and watch the +performance with narrowed eyes. The Jaffry Building stands at the southwest +corner of Fountain Square. It boasts six stories, mosaic flooring in the +halls, and the only passenger elevator in Whitewater. The ground floor was +given over to Humphrey's drug store; and most of Humphrey's drug store +was given over to the immense marble soda fountain and the dozen or more +wire-legged tables and the two or three dozen wire chairs that served to +accommodate the late afternoon and evening crowd. + +At the moment the fountain had but one patron--a remarkably fat boy of, +perhaps, fifteen, with plump cheeks and drooping mouth.... The row of +windows across the second floor front of the building, above Humphrey's, +bore, each, the legend--_Remington and Evans, Attorneys at Law_. + +The fat boy was Percival Sheridan, otherwise Pudge. His sister, Betty +Sheridan, worked in the law offices directly overhead and possessed a heart +of stone. + +Betty was rich, at least in the eyes of Pudge. For more than a year (Betty +was twenty-two) she had enjoyed a private income. Pudge definitely knew +this. She had money to buy out the soda fountain. But her character, +thought Pudge, might be summed up in the statement that she worked when she +didn't have to (people talked about this; even to him!) and flatly refused +to give her brother money for soda. + +As if a little soda ever hurt anybody. She took it herself, often enough. +Within five minutes he had laid the matter before her--up in that solemn +office, where they made you feel so uncomfortable. She had said: "Pudge +Sheridan, you're killing yourself! Not one cent more for wrecking your +stomach!" + +She had called him "Pudge." For months he had been reminding her that his +name was Percival. And he wasn't wrecking his stomach. That was silly talk. +He had eaten but two nut sundaes and a chocolate frappe since luncheon. It +wasn't soda and candy that made him so fat. Some folks just were fat, and +some folks were thin. That was all there was _to_ it! + +Pudge himself would have a private income when he was twenty-one. Six years +off ... and Billy Simmons in his white apron, was waiting now, on the other +side of the marble counter, for his order--and grinning as he waited. +Six years! Why, Pudge would be a man then--too old for nut sundaes and +chocolate frappes, too far gone down the sober slope of life to enjoy +anything! + +Pudge wriggled nervously, locked his feet around behind the legs of the +high stool, rubbed a fat forefinger on the edge of the counter, and watched +the finger intently with gloomy eyes. + +"Well, what'll it be, Pudge?" This from Billy Simmons. + +"My name ain't Pudge." + +"Very good, Mister Sheridan. What'll it be?" + +"One of those chocolate marshmallow nut sundaes, I guess, if--if----" + +"If what, Mister Sheridan?" + +"--if, oh well, just charge it." + +Billy Simmons paused in the act of reaching for a sundae glass. The smile +left his face. + +Pudge, though he did not once look up from that absorbing little operation +with the fat forefinger, felt this pause and knew that Billy's grin had +gone; and his own mouth drooped and drooped. It was a tense moment. + +"You see, Pudge," Billy began in some embarrassment, only to conclude +rather sharply, "I'll have to ask Mr. Humphrey. Your sister said we +weren't----" + +"Oh, well!" sighed Pudge. Getting down from the stool he waddled slowly out +of the store. + +It was no use going up against old Humphrey. He had tried that. He went as +far as the fire-plug, close to the corner, and sank down upon it. Everybody +was against him. He would sit here awhile and think it over. Perhaps he +could figure out some way of breaking through the conspiracy. Then Mr. +Martin Jaffry drove up to the curb and he had to move his legs. Mr. Jaffry +said, "Hello, Pudge," too. It was all deeply annoying. + +Meantime, during the past half-hour, the law offices of Remington and Evans +were not lacking in the sense of life and activity. Things began moving +when Penny Evans (christened Penfield) came back from lunch. He wore an +air--Betty Sheridan noted, from her typewriter desk within the rail--of +determination. His nod toward herself was distinctly brusque; a new quality +which gave her a moment's thought. And then when he had hung up his hat and +was walking past her to his own private office, he indulged in a faint, +fleeting grin. + +Betty considered him. She had known Penny Evans as long as she could +remember knowing anybody; and she had never seen him look quite as he +looked this afternoon. + +The buzzer sounded. It was absurd, of course; nobody else in the office. He +could have spoken--you could hear almost every sound over the seven-foot +partitions. + +She rose, waited an instant to insure perfect composure, smoothed down her +trim shirtwaist, pushed back a straying wisp of her naturally wavy hair, +picked up her notebook and three sharp pencils, and went quietly into his +office. + +He sat there at his flat desk--his blond brows knit, his mouth firm, a +light of eager good humor in his blue eyes. + +"Take this," he said ... Betty seated herself opposite him, and was +instantly ready for work. + +"... Memorandum. From rentals--the old Evans property on Ash Street, the +two houses on Wilson Avenue South, and the factory lease in the South +Extension, a total of slightly over $3600. + +"New paragraph. From investments in bonds, railway and municipal, an +average the last four years of $2800. + +"New paragraph. From law practice, last year, over $4500. Will be +considerably more this year. Total----" + +"New paragraph?" + +"No. Continue. Total, $10,900. This year will be close to $12,000. Don't +you think that's a reasonably good showing for an unencumbered man of +twenty-seven?" + +"Dictation--that last?" + +"No, personal query, Penny to Betty." + +"Yes, then, it is very good. You want this in memorandum form. Any +carbons?" + +"One carbon--in the form of a diamond--gift from Penny to Betty." Miss +Sheridan settled back in her chair, tapped her pretty mouth with her +pencil, and surveyed the blond young man. Her eyes were blue--frank, +capable eyes. + +"Penny, I like my work here----" + +"I should hope so----" + +"And I don't want to give it up." + +"Then don't." + +"I shall have to, Penny, if you don't stop breaking your word. It was a +definite agreement, you know. You were not to propose to me, on any working +day, before seven P.M. This is a proposal of course----" + +"Yes, of course, but I've just----" + +"That makes twice this month, then, that you've broken the agreement. Now I +can go on and put my mind on my work, if you'll let me. Otherwise, I shall +have to get a job where they _will_ let me." + +"But, Betty, I've just this noon sat down and figured up where I stand. It +has frightened me a little. I didn't realize I was taking in more than +ten thousand a year. And all of a sudden it struck me that I've been an +imbecile to wait, or make any agreement----" + +"Then you broke it deliberately?" + +"Absolutely. Betty--no fooling now; I'm in earnest----" + +Studying him, she saw that he was intensely in earnest. + +"You see, child, I've tried to be patient because I know how you were +brought up, what you're used to. Why, I wouldn't dream of asking you to +be my wife unless I could feel pretty sure of being able to give you the +comforts you've always had and ought to have. But hang it, Betty, I _can_ +do it right! I can give you a home that's worthy of you. Any time! This +year, even!" + +"Penny, do you think I care what your income is--for one minute?" + +"Why--why----" + +"When I'm earning twenty dollars a week myself and prouder of it than--" + +"But that's absurd, Betty--for you to be working--as a stenographer, of all +things! A girl with your looks and your gifts and all that's back of you." + +"You mean that I should make marriage my profession?" + +"Well--well----" + +"Probably that's why we keep missing each other, Penny. I've pinned my flag +to the principle of economic independence. You're looking for a girl who +will marry for a living. There are lots of them. Pretty, attractive girls, +too. Your difficulty is, you want that sort. You really believe all girls +are that sort at heart, and you think my independence a fad--something I +shall get over. Don't you, now?" + +"Well, I'll confess I can't see it as the normal thing. Yes, I believe--I +hope--you will get over it." + +"Well--" Miss Sheridan slammed her book shut and stood up--"I won't." + +She stepped to the door. + +"And the agreement stands. I want to keep on working. And I want to keep on +being fond of you. That agreement is necessary to both desires." She opened +the door, hesitated and a hint of mischief flashed across her face. +"I'll tell you just the person for you, Penny. Really. Marriage is her +profession. She's very experienced. Temporarily out of a job--Alys +Brewster-Smith." + +He snatched a carnation from the glass on his desk and threw it at her. It +struck a closed door. + + * * * * * + +The outer door opened just then, and Mr. Martin Jaffry stepped in. He +nodded, with his little quizzical smile, to the composed young woman who +stood within the railing. + +"Anybody here, Betty?" + +A slight movement of her prettily poised head indicated the door marked +"Mr. Evans." And she said, "Penny's there." + +"Is he shut up, too? His partner is too important to be seen today." + +"Oh no," Betty replied, inscrutably sober, "he's not important." + +Mr. Jaffry wrinkled up his eyes, chuckled softly, then stepped to the +door of the unimportant one. Before opening it, he turned. "Mrs. Harvey +Herrington been in?" + +"Twice with a committee." + +"Any idea what she wanted?" + +Betty was aware that the whimsical and roundabout Mr. Jaffry knew +everything about everybody in Whitewater. She was further aware that he +had, undoubtedly, reasons of his own for questioning her. He was +always asking questions, anyway. Worse than a Chinaman. And for some +reason--perhaps because he was Martin Jaffry--you always answered his +questions. + +"Yes," said Betty. "She wants to pledge him to suffrage." + +"Umm! Yes, I see! You wouldn't be against that yourself, would you?" + +"Naturally not. I'm secretary of the Second Ward Suffrage Club." + +"Umm! Yes, yes!" With which illuminating comment, Mr. Jaffry tapped on +Penny Evans' door, opened it and entered. + +"Spare a minute?" he inquired. + +"Sure," said Penny; "two, ten! Take a chair." + +"No," replied Mr. Jaffry, "I won't take a chair. Think better on my feet. +I'm in a bit of a quandary. Suppose you tell me what this important paper +is that George is drawing up. Do you know?" + +"I do." + +"Is he coming out against suffrage?" + +"Flatly." + +"Umm!" Mr. Jaffry flicked his cap about. "I want to see George. He mustn't +do that." + +"Say, Mr. Jaffry, you haven't swung over----" + +"Not at all. It's tactics. I ought to see him." + +"Why not run out to his house----" + +"Just been there. Ran away. Some one there I'm afraid of." + +"Telephone?" + +Mr. Jaffry shook his head and lowered his voice. + +"With Betty hearing it at this end, and the committee from the Antis +sitting it out down there--the telephone's on the stair landing----" + +He pursed his lips, waved his cap slowly to and fro and observed it with a +whimsical expression on his sandy face, then glanced out of the window. He +stepped closer, looking sharply down. A very fat boy with pink cheeks and a +downcast expression was sitting on a fire-plug. Mr. Jaffry leaned out. + +"Pudge," he called, "come up here a minute." + +On the Remington and Evans stationery he penciled a note, which he sealed. +Then he scribbled another--to Mrs. George Remington, asking her to hand +George the inclosure the moment he appeared from his work. The two he +slipped into a large envelope. The very fat boy stood before him. + +"Want to make a quarter, Pudge? Take this letter, right now, to Mrs. George +Remington. Give it to her personally. It's the old Remington place, you +know." + +He felt in his change pocket. It was empty. He hesitated, turned to Evans, +then, reconsidering, produced a dollar bill from another pocket and gave it +to the boy. + +"Now run," he said. + +The boy, speechless, turned and moved out of the office. His sister spoke +to him, but he did not turn his head. He rolled down the stairs to the +street, stood a moment in front of Humphrey's, drew a sudden breath that +was almost a gasp, waddled into the store, advanced directly on the +soda fountain, and with a blazing red face and angrily triumphant eyes +confronted Billy Simmons. + +"I'll take a chocolate marshmallow nut sundae," he said. "And you needn't +be stingy with the marshmallow, either!" + + * * * * * + +At ten minutes past four, the anxious Antis in the Remington living-room +heard the candidate for district attorney running down the stairs, and even +Mrs. Brewster-Smith was hushed. The candidate stopped, however, on the +landing. They heard him lift the telephone receiver. He called a number. +Then----- + +"_Sentinel_ office?... Mr. Ledbetter, please.... Hello, Ledbetter! +Remington speaking. I have that statement ready. Will you send a man +around?... Yes, right away. And I wish you'd put it on the wires. Display +it just as prominently as you can, won't you?... Thanks. That's fine! +Good-by." + +He ran back upstairs. + +But shortly he appeared, wearing the distrait, exalted expression of the +genius who has just passed through the creative act. He looked very tall +and strong as he stood before the mantel, receiving the congratulations of +Mrs. Brewster-Smith and the timid admiration of Cousin Emelene. His few +words were well chosen and were uttered with dignity. + +"And now, dear Mr. Remington, I'm sure I don't need to ask you if you are +taking the right stand on suffrage." This from Mrs. Brewster-Smith. + +The candidate smiled tolerantly. + +"If unequivocal opposition is 'right'----" + +"Oh, you dear man! I was sure we could count on you. Isn't it splendid, +Genevieve!" + +The reporters came. + + * * * * * + +It was a busy evening for the young couple. There were relatives for +dinner. Other relatives and an old friend or two came later. Throughout, +George wore that quietly exalted expression, and carried himself with the +new dignity. + +To the adoring Genevieve his chin had never appeared so long and strong, +his thought had never seemed so elevated, his quiet self-respect had never +been so commanding. He was no longer merely her George, he was now a public +figure. Soon he would be district attorney; then, very likely, Governor; +then--well, Senator; and finally--it was possible--some one had to +be--President of the United States. He had begun, this day, by making a +great decision, by stepping boldly out on principle, on moral principle, +and announcing himself a defender of the home, of the right. + +At midnight, the last guest departed. George and Genevieve stepped out into +the summer moonlight and strolled arm in arm down the walk. + +Waddling up the street appeared a very fat boy. + +"Why, Pudge," cried Genevieve, "what on earth are you doing out at this +time of night!" + +"I'm going home, I tell you!" muttered the boy, on the defensive. He +carried a large bag of what seemed to be chocolate creams, from which he +was eating. + +As he passed, a twinge of memory disturbed him. He fumbled in his pockets. + +"I was to give you this," he said then; and leaving a crumpled envelope +in Genevieve's hand, he walked on as rapidly as he could. + +A few minutes later, standing under the light in the front hall, George +Remington read this penciled note: + +"I stood ready to contribute more than I promised--any amount to put you +over. But if you give out a statement against suffrage you're a damn fool +and I withdraw every cent. A man with no more political sense and skill +than that isn't worth helping. You should have advised me. + +"M. J." + + + + +CHAPTER II + +BY HARRY LEON WILSON + + +It may have been surmised that our sterling young candidate for district +attorney had not yet become skilled in dalliance with the equivocal; that +he was no adept in ambiguity; that he would confront all issues with a +rugged valiance susceptible of no misconstruction; that, in short, George +Remington was no trimmer. + +If he opposed an issue, one knew that he opposed it from the heart out. He +said so and he meant it. And, being opposed to the dreadful heresy of equal +suffrage, no reader of the Whitewater _Sentinel_ that morning could say, +as the shrewd so often say of our older statesmen, that George was +"side-stepping." + +Not George's the mellow gift to say, in effect, that of course woman should +vote the instant she wishes to, though perhaps that day has not yet come. +Meantime the speaker boldly defies the world to show a man holding woman in +loftier regard than he does, or ready to accord her a higher value in +all true functions of the body politic. Equal suffrage, thank God, is +inevitable at some future time, but until that glorious day when we can be +assured that the sex has united in a demand for it, it were perhaps as +well not to cloud the issues of the campaign now opening; though let it be +understood, and he cannot put this too plainly, that he reveres the memory +of his gray-haired mother without whose tender ministrations and wise +guidance he could never have reached the height from which he now speaks. +And so let us pass on to the voting on these canal bonds, the true +inwardness of which, thanks to the venal activities of a corrupt +opposition, even an exclusively male constituency has thus far failed to +comprehend. And so forth. + +Our hero, then, had yet to acquire this finesse. As we are now privileged +to observe him, he is as easy to understand as the multiplication table, +as little devious and, alas! as lacking in suavity. Yet, let us be fair to +George. Mere innocence of guile, of verbal trickery, had not alone sufficed +for his passionate bluntness in the present crisis. At a later stage in +his career as a husband he might have been equally blunt; yet never again, +perhaps, would he have been so emotional in his opposition to woman +polluting herself with the mire of politics. + +Be it recalled that but five weeks had elapsed since George had solemnly +promised to cherish and protect the fairest of the non-voting sex--at least +in his State--and he was still taking his mission seriously. As he wrote +the words that were now electrifying, in a manner of speaking, the readers +of the _Sentinel_, and of neighboring journals with enough enterprise to +secure them, he had beheld his own Genevieve, fine, flawless, tenderly +nourished flower that she was, being dragged from her high place with the +most distressing results. + +He saw her rushed from the sacred shelter of her home and made to attend +primaries; he saw her compelled to strive tearfully with problems that +revolted all her finer instincts; he saw her insulted at polling booths; +saw her voting in company with persons of both sexes whom one could never +know. + +He saw her tainted, bruised, beaten down in the struggle, losing little by +little all sense of the holy values of Wife, Mother, Home. As he wrote he +heard her weakening cries for help as she perished, and more than once his +left arm instinctively curved to shield her. + +Was it not for his wife, then; nay, for wifehood itself, that he wrote? +And so, was it quite fair for unmarried Penfield Evans, burning at his +breakfast table a cynical cigarette over the printed philippic, to murmur, +"Gee! old George _has_ spilled the beans!" + +Simple words enough and not devoid of friendly concern. But should he not +have divined that George had been appalled to his extremities of speech +by the horrendous vision of his fair young bride being hurled into depths +where she would be obliged, if not to have opinions of her own, at least to +vote with the rabble as he might decide they ought to vote? + +And should not other critics known to us have divined the racking anguish +under which George had labored? For one, should not Elizabeth Sheridan, +amateur spinster, have been all sympathy for one who was palpably more an +alarmed bridegroom than a mere candidate? + +Should not her maiden heart have been touched by this plausible aspect of +George's dilemma, rather than her mere brain to have been steeled to a +humorous disparagement tinged with bitterness? + +And yet, "What rot!" muttered Miss Sheridan,--"silly rot, bally rot, tommy +rot, and all the other kinds!" + +Hereupon she creased a brow not meant for creases and defaced an admirable +nose with grievous wrinkles of disdain. "Sacred names of wife and mother!" +This seemed regrettably like swearing as she delivered it, though she +quoted verbatim. "Sacred names of petted imbeciles!" she amended. + +Then, with berserker fury, crumpling her _Sentinel_ into a ball, she +venomously hurled it to the depths of a waste basket and religiously rubbed +the feel of it from her fingers. As she had not even glanced at the column +headed "Births, Deaths, Marriages," it will be seen that her agitation was +real. And surely a more discerning sympathy might have been looked for from +the seasoned Martin Jaffry. A bachelor full of years and therefore with +illusions not only unimpaired but ripened, who more quickly than he should +have divined that his nephew for the moment viewed all womankind as but one +multiplied Genevieve, upon whom it would be heinous to place the shackles +of suffrage? + +Perhaps Uncle Martin did divine this. Perhaps he was a mere trimmer, a rank +side-stepper, steeped in deceit and ever ready to mouth the abominable +phrase "political expediency." It were rash to affirm this, for no analyst +has ever fathomed the heart of a man who has come to his late forties a +bachelor by choice. One may but guess from the ensuing meager data. + +Uncle Martin at a certain corner of Maple Avenue that morning, fell in +with Penfield Evans, who, clad as the lilies of a florist's window, strode +buoyantly toward his office, the vision of his day's toil pinkly suffused +by an overlaying vision of a Betty or Sheridan character. Mr. Evans bubbled +his greeting. "Morning! Have you seen it? Oh, _say_, have you seen it?" + +The immediate manner of Uncle Martin not less than his subdued garb of +gray, his dark gloves and his somber stick, intimated that he saw nothing +to bubble about. + +"He has burned his bridges behind him." The speaker looked as grim as any +bachelor-by-choice ever may. + +"Regular little fire-bug," blithely responded Mr. Evans, moderating his +stride to that of the other. + +"Can't understand it," resumed the gloomy uncle. "I sent him word in time; +sent it from your office by messenger. It was plain enough. I told him no +money of mine would go into his campaign if he made a fool of himself--or +words to that effect." + +"Phew! Cast you off, did he? Just like that?" + +"Just like that! Went out of his way to overdo it, too. Needn't have come +out half so strong. No chance now to backwater--not a chance on earth +to explain what he really did mean--and make it something different." +"Quixotic! That's how it reads to me." + +Uncle Martin here became oracular, his somber stick gesturing to point his +words. + +"Trouble with poor George, he's been silly enough to blurt out the truth, +what every man of us thinks in his heart--" + +"Eh?" said Mr. Evans quickly, as one who has been jolted. + +"No more sense than to come right out and say what every one of us thinks +in his secret heart about women. I think it and you think it--" + +"Oh, well, if you put it _that_ way," admitted young Mr. Evans gracefully. +"But of course--" + +"Certainly, of _course!_ We all think it--sacred names of home and mother +and all the rest of it; but a man running for office these days is a chump +to say so, isn't he? Of course he is! What chance does it leave him? Answer +me that." + +"Darned little, if you ask me," said Mr. Evans judicially. "Poor old +George!" + +"Talks as if he were going to be married tomorrow instead of its having +come off five weeks ago," pursued Uncle Martin bitterly. Plainly there were +depths of understanding in the man, trimmer though he might be. + +Mr. Evans made no reply. Irrationally he was considering the terms "five +weeks" and "married" in relation to a spinster who would have professed to +be indignant had she known it. + +"Got to pull the poor devil out," said Uncle Martin, when in silence they +had traversed fifty feet more of the shaded side of Maple Avenue. + +"How?" demanded the again practical Mr. Evans. + +"Make him take it back; make him recant; swing him over the last week +before election. Make him eat his words with every sign of exquisite +relish. Simple enough!" + +"How?" persisted Mr. Evans. + +"Wiles, tricks, subterfuges, chicanery--understand what I mean?" + +"Sure! I understand what you mean as well as you do, but--come down to +brass tacks." + +"That's an entirely different matter," conceded Uncle Martin gruffly. "It +may take thought." + +"Oh, is that all? Very well then; we'll think. I, myself, will think. +First, I'll have a talk with the sodden amorist. I'll grill him. I'll find +the weak spot in his armor. There must be something we can put over on +him." + +"By fair means or foul," insisted Uncle Martin as they paused at the +parting of their ways. "Low-down, underhanded work--do you get what I +mean?" + +"I do, I do!" declared young Mr. Evans and broke once more into the buoyant +stride of an earlier moment. This buoyance was interrupted but once, and +briefly, ere he gained the haven of his office. + +As he stepped quite too buoyantly into Fountain Square, he was all but run +down by the new six-cylinder roadster of Mrs. Harvey Herrington, driven +by the enthusiastic owner. He regained the curb in time, with a ready and +heartfelt utterance nicely befitting the emergency. + +The president of the Whitewater Women's Club, the Municipal League and the +Suffrage Society, brought her toy to a stop fifteen feet beyond her too +agile quarry, with a fine disregard for brakes and tire surfaces. She +beckoned eagerly to him she might have slain. She was a large woman with an +air of graceful but resolute authority; a woman good to look upon, attired +with all deference to the modes of the moment, and exhaling an agreeable +sense of good-will to all. + +"Be careful always to look before you start across and you'll never have to +say such things," was her greeting to Mr. Evans, as he halted beside this +minor juggernaut. + +"Sorry you heard it," lied the young man readily. + +"Such a flexible little car--picks up before one realizes," conceded +Whitewater's acknowledged social dictator. "But what I wanted to say is +this: that poor daft partner of yours has mortally offended every woman in +town except three, with that silly screed of his. I've seen nearly all of +them that count this morning, or they've called me by telephone. Now, +why couldn't he have had the advice of some good, capable woman before +committing himself so rabidly?" + +"Who were the three?" queried Mr. Evans. + +"Oh, poor Genevieve, of course; she goes without saying. And +you'd guess the other two if you knew them better--his cousin, Alys +Brewster-Smith, and poor Genevieve's Cousin Emelene. They both have his +horrible school-boy composition committed to memory, I do believe. + +"Cousin Emelene recited most of it to me with tears in her weak eyes, and +Alys tells me his noble words have made the world seem like a different +place to her. She said she had been coming to believe that chivalry of the +old true brand was dying out, but that dear Cousin George has renewed her +faith in it. + +"Think of poor Genevieve when they both fall on his neck. They're going up +for that particular purpose this afternoon. The only two in town, mind you, +except poor Genevieve. Oh, it's too awfully bad, because aside from this +medieval view of his, George was probably as acceptable for this office as +any man could be." + +The lady burdened the word "man" with a tiny but distinguishable emphasis. +Mr. Evans chose to ignore this. + +"George's friends are going to take him in hand," said he. "Of course he +was foolish to come out the way he has, even if he did say only what every +man believes in his secret heart." + +The president of the Whitewater Woman's Club fixed him with a glittering +and suddenly hostile eye. + +"What! you too?" she flung at him. He caught himself. He essayed +explanations, modifications, a better lighting of the thing. But at the +expiration of his first blundering sentence Mrs. Herrington, with her +flexible little car, was narrowly missing an aged and careless pedestrian +fifty yards down the street. + + * * * * * + +"George come in yet?" + +For the second time Mr. Evans was demanding this of Miss Elizabeth Sheridan +who had also ignored his preliminary "Good morning!" + +Now for a moment more she typed viciously. One would have said that the +thriving legal business of Remington and Evans required the very swift +completion of the document upon which she wrought. And one would have been +grossly deceived. The sheet had been drawn into the machine at the +moment Mr. Evans' buoyant step had been heard in the outer hall, and upon +it was merely written a dozen times the bald assertion, "Now is the time +for all good men to come to the aid of the party." + +Actually it was but the mechanical explosion of the performer's mood, +rather than the wording of a sentiment now or at any happier time +entertained by her. + +At last she paused; she sullenly permitted herself to be interrupted. Her +hands still hovered above the already well-punished keys of the typewriter. +She glanced over a shoulder at Mr. Evans and allowed him to observe her +annoyance at the interruption. + +"George has not come in yet," she said coldly. "I don't think he will ever +come in again. I don't see how he can have the face to. I shouldn't think +he could ever show himself on the street again after that--that--" + +The young woman's emotion overcame her at this point. Again her relentless +fingers stung the blameless mechanism--"to come to the aid of the party. +Now is the time for all good--" She here controlled herself to further +speech. "And _you!_ Of course you applaud him for it. Oh, I knew you were +all alike!" + +"Now look here, Betty, this thing has gone far enough----" + +"Far enough, indeed!" + +"But you won't give me a chance!" + +Mr. Evans here bent above his employee in a threatening manner. + +"You don't even ask what I think about it. You say I'm guilty and ought +to be shot without a trial--not even waiting till sunrise. If you had the +least bit of fairness in your heart you'd have asked me what I really +thought about this outbreak of George's, and I'd have told you in so many +words that I think he's made all kinds of a fool of himself." + +"No! Do you really, Pen?" + +Miss Sheridan had swiftly become human. She allowed her eyes to meet those +of Mr. Evans' with an easy gladness but little known to him of late. "Of +course I do, Betty. The idea of a candidate for office in this enlightened +age breaking loose in that manner! It's suicide. He could be arrested for +the attempt in this State. Is that strong enough for you? You surely know +how I feel now, don't you? Come on, Betty dear! Let's not spar in that +foolish way any longer. Remember all I said yesterday. It goes double +today--really, I see things more clearly." + +Plainly Miss Sheridan was disarmed. + +"And I thought you'd approve every word of his silly tirade," she murmured. +Mr. Evans, still above her, was perilously shaken by the softer note in +her voice, but he controlled himself in time and sat in one of the chairs +reserved for waiting clients. It was near Miss Sheridan, yet beyond +reaching distance. He felt that he must be cool in this moment of impending +triumph. + +"Wasn't it the awfullest rot?" demanded the spinster, pounding out a row of +periods for emphasis. + +"And he's got to be made to eat his words," said Mr. Evans, wisely taking +the same by-path away from the one subject in all the world that really +mattered. + +"Who could make him?" + +"I could, if I tried." It came in quiet, masterful tones that almost +convinced the speaker himself. + +"Oh, Pen, if you could! Wouldn't that be a victory, though? If you only +could----" + +"Well, if I only could--and if I do?" His intention was too pointed to be +ignored. + +"Oh, _that_!" He winced at the belittling "that." "Of course I couldn't +promise--anyway I don't believe you could ever do it, so what's the use of +being silly?" + +"But you will--will you promise, if I _do_ convert George? Answer the +question, please!" Mr. Evans glared as only actual district attorneys have +the right to. + +"Oh, what nonsense--but, well, I'll promise--I'll promise to promise to +think very seriously about it indeed, if you bring George around." + +"Betty!" It was the voice of an able pleader and he half arose from his +chair, his arms eloquent of purpose. "'Now is the time for all good men to +come to the aid of the party. Now is the time for'--" wrote Miss Sheridan +with dazzling fingers, and the pleader resumed his seat. + +"How will you bring him 'round," she then demanded. + +"Wiles, tricks, stratagems," replied the rising young diplomat moodily, +smarting under the moment's defeat. + +"Serve him right for pulling all that old-fashioned nonsense," said Miss +Sheridan, and accorded her employer a glance in which admiration for his +prowess was not half concealed. + +"The words of a fool wise in his own folly," went on the encouraged Mr. +Evans, and then, alas! a victim to the slight oratorical thrill these words +brought him,--"honestly uttering what every last man believes and feels +about woman in his heart and yet what no sane man running for office can +say in public--here, what's the matter?" + +The latter clause had been evoked by the sight of a blazing Miss Sheridan, +who now stood over him with fists tightly clenched. "Oh, oh, oh!" This +was low, tense, thrilling. It expressed horror. "So that's what your +convictions amount to! Then you do applaud him, every word of him, and you +were deceiving me. Every man in his own heart, indeed. Thank heaven I found +you out in time!" + +It may be said that Mr. Evans now cowered in his chair. The term is not too +violent. He ventured to lift a hand in weak protest. + +"No, no, Betty, you are being unjust to me again. I meant that that was +what Martin Jaffry told me this morning. It isn't what I believe at all. I +tell you my own deepest sentiments are exactly what yours are in this great +cause which--which--" + + +Painfully he became aware of his own futility. Miss Sheridan had ceased to +blaze. Seated again before the typewriter she grinned at him with amused +incredulity. + +"You nearly had me going, Pen." + +Mr. Evans summoned the deeper resources of his manhood and achieved an +easier manner. He brazenly returned her grin. "I'll have you going again +before I'm through--remember that." + +"By wiles, tricks and stratagems, I suppose." + +"The same. By those I shall make poor George recant, and by those, assuming +you to be a woman with a fine sense of honor who will hold a promise +sacred, I shall have you going. And, mark my words, you'll be going good, +too!" + +"Silly!" + +She drew from the waste basket the maltreated _Sentinel_, unfurled it to +expose the offending matter, and smote the column with the backs of four +accusing fingers. + +"There, my dear, is your answer. Now run along like a good boy." + +"Silly!" said Mr. Evans, striving for a masterly finish to the unequal +combat. He arose, dissembling cheerful confidence, straightened the frame +of a steel-engraved Daniel Webster on the wall, and thrice paced the length +of the room, falsely appearing to be engaged in deep thought. + +Miss Sheridan, apparently for mere exclamatory purposes, now reread the +fulmination of the absent partner. She scoffed, she sneered, flouted, +derided, and one understood that she was including both members of the +firm. Then her listener became aware that she had achieved coherence. + +"Indeed, yes! Do you know what ought to happen to him? Every unprotected +female in this county ought to pack her trunk and trudge right up to the +Remington place and say, 'Here we are, noble man! We have read your burning +words in which you offer to protect us. Save us from the vote! Let your +home be our sanctuary. That's what you mean if you meant anything but +tommy-rot. Here and now we throw ourselves upon your boasted chivalry. +Where are our rooms, and what time is luncheon served.'" + +"Here! Just say that again," called Mr. Evans from across the room. Miss +Sheridan obliged. She elaborated her theme. George should be taken at +his word by every weak flower of womanhood. If women were nothing but +ministering angels, it was "up to" George to give 'em a chance to minister. + +So went Miss Sheridan's improvisation and Mr. Evans, suffering the throes +of a mighty inspiration, suddenly found it sweetest music. + +When Miss Sheridan subsided, Mr. Evans appeared to have forgotten the cause +of their late encounter. Whistling cheerily he bustled into his own office, +mumbling of matters that had to be "gotten off." For some moments he busied +himself at his desk, then emerged to dictate three business letters to his +late antagonist. + +He dictated in a formal and distant manner, pausing in the midst of the +last letter to spell out the word "analysis," which he must have known +would enrage her further. Then, quite casually, he wished to be told if +she might know the local habitat of Mrs. Alys Brewster-Smith and a certain +Cousin Emelene. His manner was arid. + +Miss Sheridan chanced to know that the ladies were sheltered in the +exclusive boarding-house of one Mrs. Gallup, out on Erie Street, and +informed him to this effect in the fewest possible words. Mr. Evans +whistled absently a moment, then formally announced that he should be +absent from the office for perhaps an hour. Hat, gloves and stick in hand, +he was about to nod punctiliously to the back of Miss Sheridan's head when +the door opened to admit none other than our hero, George Remington. George +wore the look of one who is uplifted and who yet has found occasion to be +thoughtful about it. Penfield Evans grasped his hand and shook it warmly. + +"Fine, George, old boy--simply corking! Honestly, I didn't believe you had +it in you. You covered the ground and you did it in a big way. It took +nerve, all right! Of course you probably know that every woman in town is +speaking of your young wife as 'poor Genevieve,' but you've had the courage +of your convictions. It's great!" + +"Thanks, old man! I've spoken for the right as I saw it, let come what may. +By the way, has Uncle Martin been in this morning, or telephoned, or sent +any word?" + +Miss Sheridan coldly signified that none of these things had occurred, +whereupon George sighed in an interesting manner and entered his own room. + +Mr. Evans had uttered his congratulations in clear, ringing tones and +Miss Sheridan, even as she wrote, contrived with her trained shoulders to +exhibit to his lingering eye an overwhelming contempt for his opinions and +his double-dealing. + +In spite of which he went out whistling, and dosed the door in a defiant +manner. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +BY FANNIE HURST + + +Destiny, busybody that she is, has her thousand irons in her perpetual +fires, turning, testing and wielding them. + +While Miss Betty Sheridan, for another scornful time, was rereading the +well-thumbed copy of the _Sentinel_, her fine back arched like a prize +cat's, George Remington in his small mahogany office adjoining, neck low +and heels high, was codifying, over and over again, the small planks of his +platform, stuffing the knot holes which afforded peeps to the opposite side +of the issue with anti-putty, and planning a bombardment of his pattest +phrases for the complete capitulation of his Uncle Jaffry. + +While Genevieve Remington in her snug library, so eager in her wifeliness +to clamber up to her husband's small planks, and if need be, spread her +prettily flounced skirts over the rotting places, was memorizing, with +more pride than understanding, extracts from the controversial article +for quotation at the Woman's Club meeting, Mr. Penfield Evans, with +a determination which considerably expanded his considerable chest +measurement, ran two at a bound up the white stone steps of Mrs. Gallup's +private boarding-house and pulled out the white china knob of a bell that +gave no evidence of having sounded within, and left him uncertain to ring +again. + +A cast-iron deer, with lichen growing along its antlers, stood poised for +instant flight in Mrs. Gallup's front yard. + +While Mr. Evans waited he regarded its cast-iron flanks, but not seeingly. +His rather the expression of one who stares into the future and smiles at +what he sees. + +Erie Street, shaded by a double row of showy chestnuts, lay in summer calm. +A garden hose with a patent attachment spun spray over an adjoining +lawn and sent up a greeny smell. Out from under the striped awning of +Hassebrock's Ice Cream Parlor, cat-a-corner, Percival Pauncefort Sheridan, +in rubber-heeled canvas shoes and white trousers, cuffed high, emerged +and turned down Huron Street, making frequent forays into a bulging rear +pocket. + +Miss Lydia Chipley, vice-president of the Busy Bee Sewing and Civic Club, +cool, starchy and unhatted, clicked past on slim, trim heels, all radiated +by the reflection from a pink parasol, gay embroidery bag dangling. + +"Hello, Lyd!" + +"Hello, Pen!" + +"What's your hurry?" + +"It's my middle name." + +"Why hurry, when the future is always waiting?" + +"Why aren't you holding your partner's head since he committed political +suicide in the _Sentinel_?" + +"I'd rather hold your head, Lyd, any day in the week." + +"Gaul," said Miss Chipley, passing on, her sharply etched little face +glowing in the pink reflection of the parasol, "is bounded on the north by +Mrs. Gallup's boarding-house, and on the south by----" + +"By the Frigid Zone!" + +Then the door from behind swung open. Mr. Penfield Evans stepped into Mrs. +Gallup's cool, exclusive parlor of better days, and delivering his card to +a moist-fingered maid, sat himself among the shrouded furniture to await +Mrs. Alys Brewster-Smith and Miss Emelene Brand. + +Mrs. Gallup's boarding-house was finishing its noonday meal. Boiled odors +lay upon a parlor that was otherwise redolent of the more opulent days of +the Gallups. A not too ostentatious clatter of dishes came through the +closed folding-doors. + +Almost immediately Mrs. Alys Brewster-Smith, her favorite Concentrated +Breath of the Lily always in advance, rustled into the darkened parlor, her +stride hitting vigorously into her black taffeta skirts. Even as she shook +hands with Mr. Evans, she jerked the window shade to its height, so that +her smoothness and coloring shone out above her weeds. + +In the shadow of her and at her life job of bringing up the rear, with a +large Maltese cat padding beside her, entered Miss Brand on rubber heels. +She was the color of long twilight. + +Mr. Evans rose to his six-feet-in-his-stockings and extended them each a +hand, Miss Emelene drawing the left. + +Mrs. Smith threw up a dainty gesture, black lace ruffles falling back from +arms all the whiter because of them. + +"Well, Penny Evans!" + +"None other, Mrs. Smith, than the villain himself." + +"Be seated, Penfield." + +"Thanks, Miss Emelene." + +They drew up in a triangle beside the window overlooking the cast-iron +deer. The cat sprang up, curling in the crotch of Miss Emelene's arm. + +"Nice ittie kittie, say how-do to big Penny-field-Evans. Say how-do to big +man. Say how-do, muvver's ittie kittie." Miss Emelene extended the somewhat +reluctant Maltese paw, five hook-shaped claws slightly in evidence. + +"Say how-do to Hanna, Penfield. Hanna, say how-do to big man." "How-do, +Hanna," said Mr. Evans, reddening slightly beneath his tan. Then hitched +his chair closer. + +"To what," he began, flashing his white smile from one to the other of +them, and with a strong veer to the facetious, "are we indebted for the +honor of this visit? Are those the unspoken words, ladies?" + +"Nothing wrong at home, Penfield? Nobody ailing or--" + +"No, no, Miss Emelene, never better. As a matter of fact, it's a piece of +political business that has prompted me to--" + +At that Mrs. Smith jangled her bracelets, leaning forward on her knees. + +"If it's got anything to do with your partner and my cousin George +Remington having the courage to go in for the district attorneyship without +the support of the vote-hunting, vote-eating women of this town, I'm here +to tell you that I'm with him heart and soul. He can have my support and--" + +"Mine too. And if I've got anything to say my two nephews will vote for +him; and I think I have, with my two heirs." + +"Ladies, it fills my heart with joy to--" + +"Votes! Why what would the powder-puffing, short-skirted, bridge-playing +women of this town do with the vote if they had it? Wear it around their +necks on a gold chain?" + +"Well spoken, Mrs. Smith, if--" + +"I know the direction you lean, Penfield Evans, letting--" + +"But, Miss Emelene, I--" + +"Letting that shameless Betty Sheridan, a girl that had as sweet and +womanly a mother as Whitewater ever boasted, lead you around by the nose on +her suffrage string. A girl with her raising and both of her grandmothers +women that lived and died genteel, to go traipsing around in her low heels +in men's offices and addressing hoi polloi from soap boxes! Why, between +her and that female chauffeur, Mrs. Herrington, another woman whose mother +was of too fine feelings even to join the Delsarte class, the women of this +town are being influenced to making disgraceful--dis--oh, what shall I say, +Alys?" + +Here Mrs. Smith broke in, thumping a soft fist into a soft palm. + +"It's the most pernicious movement, Mr. Evans, that has ever got hold of +this community and we need a man like my cousin George Remington to--" + +"But, Mrs. Smith, that's just what I--" + +"To stamp it out! Stamp it out! It's eating into the homes of Whitewater, +trying to make breadwinners out of the creatures God intended for the +bread-eaters--I mean bread-bakers." + +"But, Mrs. Smith, I--" + +"Woman's place has been the home since home was a cave, and it will be the +home so long as women will remember that womanliness is their greatest +asset. As poor dear Mr. Smith was so fond of saying, he--I can't bring +myself to talk of him, Mr. Evans, but--but as he used to say, I--I--" + +"Yes, yes, Mrs. Smith, I understa--" + +"But as my cousin says in his article, which in my mind should be spread +broadcast, what higher mission for woman than--than--just what are his +words, Emelene?" + +Miss Brand leaned forward, her gaze boring into space. + +"What higher mission," she quoted, as if talking in a chapel, "for woman +than that she sit enthroned in the home, wielding her invisible but mighty +scepter from that throne, while man, kissing the hand that so lovingly +commands him, shall bear her gifts and do her bidding. That is the +strongest vote in the world. That is the universal suffrage which chivalry +grants to woman. The unpolled vote! Long may it reign!" + +Round spots of color had come out on Miss Emelene's long cheeks. + +"A man who can think like that has the true--the true--what shall I say, +Alys?" + +"But, ladies, I protest that I'm not--" + +"Has the true chivalry of spirit, Emelene, that the women are too stark +raving mad to appreciate. You can't come here, Mr. Evans, to two women to +whom womanliness and love of home, thank God, are still uppermost and try +to convert us to--" + +Here Mr. Evans executed a triple gyration, to the annoyance of Hanna, who +withdrew from the gesture, and raised his voice to a shout that was not +without a note of command. + +"Convert you! Why women alive, what I've been bursting a blood vessel +trying to say during the length of this interview is that I'd as soon dip +my soul in boiling oil as try to convert you away from the cause. _My_ +cause! _Our_ cause!" + +"Why--" + +"I'm here to tell you that I'm with my partner head-over-heels on the plank +he has taken." + +"But we thought--" + +"We thought you and Betty Sheridan--why, my cousin Genevieve Remington told +me that--" + +"Yes, yes, Miss Emelene. But not even the wiles of a pretty woman can hold +out indefinitely against Truth! A broad-minded man has got to keep the door +of his mind open to conviction, or it decays of mildew. I confess that +finally I am convinced that if there is one platform more than another +upon which George Remington deserves his election it is on the brave and +chivalrous principles he has so courageously come out with in the current +_Sentinel_. Whatever may have been between Betty Sheridan and--" + +"Mr. Evans, you don't mean to tell me that you and Betty Sheridan have +quarreled! Such a desirable match from every point of view, family and all! +It goes to show what a rattle-pated bunch of women they are! Any really +clever girl with an eye to her future, anti or pro, could shift her +politics when it came to a question of matri--" + +"Mrs. Smith, there comes a time in every modern man's life when he's got to +keep his politics and his pretty girls separate, or suffrage will get him +if he don't watch out!" + +"Yes, and Mr. Evans, if what I hear is true, a good-looking woman can talk +you out of your safety deposit key!" + +"That's where you're wrong, Mrs. Smith, and I'll prove it to you. Despite +any wavering I may have exhibited, I now stand, as George puts it in his +article, 'ready to conserve the threatened flower of womanhood by also +endeavoring to conserve her unpolled vote!' If you women want prohibition, +it is in your power to sway man's vote to prohibition. If you women want +the moon, let man cast your proxy vote for it! In my mind, that is the true +chivalry. To quote again, 'Woman is man's rarest heritage, his beautiful +responsibility, and at all times his co-operation, support and protection +are due her. His support and protection.'" + +Miss Emelene closed her eyes. The red had spread in her cheeks and she +laid her head back against the chair, rocking softly and stroking the +thick-napped cat. + +"The flower of womanhood," she repeated. "'His support and his protection.' +If ever a man deserved high office because of high principles, it's my +cousin George Remington! My cousin Genevieve Livingston Remington is the +luckiest girl in the world, and not one of us Brands but what is willing to +admit it. My two nephews, too, if their Aunt Emelene has anything to say, +and I think she has--" + +"Why, there isn't a stone in the world I wouldn't turn to see that boy in +office," Mrs. Smith interrupted. + +At that Mr. Evans rose. + +"You mean that, Mrs. Smith?" + +Miss Emelene rose with him, the cat pouring from her lap. + +"Of course she means it, Penfield. What self-respecting woman wouldn't!" + +Mr. Evans sat down again suddenly, Miss Emelene with him, and leaning +violently forward, thrust his eager, sun-tanned face between the two women. + +"Well, then, ladies, here's your chance to prove it! That's what brings me +today. As two of the self-respecting, idealistic and womanly women of this +community, I have come to urge you both to--" + +"Oh, Mr. Evans!" + +"Penfield, you are the flatterer!" + +"To induce two such representative women as yourselves to help my partner +to the election he so well deserves." + +"Us?" "It is in your power, ladies, to demonstrate to Whitewater that +George Remington's chivalry is not only on paper, but in his soul." + +"But--how?" + +"By throwing yourselves upon his generosity and hospitality, at least +during the campaign. You have it in your power, ladies, to strengthen the +only uncertain plank upon which George Remington stands today." + +A clock ticked roundly into a silence tinged with eloquence. The Maltese +leaped back into Miss Emelene's lap, purring there. + +"You mean, Penfield, for us to go visit George--er--er--" + +"Just that! Bag and baggage. As two relatives and two unattached women, it +is your privilege, nay, your right." + +"But--" + +"He hasn't come out in words with it, but he has intimated that such an +act from the representative antis of this town would more than anything +strengthen his theories into facts. As unattached women, particularly as +women of his own family, his support and protection, as he puts it, are due +you, _due_ you!" + +Mrs. Smith clasped her plentifully ringed fingers, and regarded him with +her prominent eyes widening. + +"Why, I--unprotected widow that I am, Mr. Evans, am not the one to force +myself even upon my cousin if--" + +"Nor I, Penfield. It would be a pleasant enough change, heaven knows, from +the boarding-house. But you can ask your mother, Penfield, if there ever +was a prouder girl in all Whitewater than Emmy Brand. I--" + +"But I tell you, ladies, the obligation is all on George's part. It's just +as if you were polling votes for him. What is probably the oldest adage in +the language, states that actions speak louder than words. Give him his +chance to spread broadcast to your sex his protection, his support. That, +ladies, is all I--we--ask." + +"But I--Genevieve--the housekeeping, Penfield. Genevieve isn't much on +management when it comes to--" "Housekeeping! Why, I have it from your fair +cousin herself, Miss Emelene, that her idea of their new little home is the +Open House." + +"Yes, but--as Emelene says, Mr. Evans, it's an imposition to--" + +"Why do you think, Mrs. Smith, Martin Jaffry spends all his evenings up at +Remingtons' since they're back from their honeymoon? Why, he was telling +me only last night it's for the joy of seeing that new little niece of his +lording it over her well-oiled little household, where a few extra dropping +in makes not one whit of difference." + +At this remark, embedded like a diamond in a rock, a shade of faintest +color swam across Mrs. Smith's face and she swung him her profile and +twirled at her rings. + +"And where Genevieve Remington's husband's interests are involved, ladies, +need I go further in emphasizing your welcome into that little home?" + +"Heaven knows it would be a change from the boarding-house, Alys. The +lunches here are beginning to go right against me! That sago pudding +today--and Gallup knowing how I hate starchy desserts!" + +"For the sake of the cause, Miss Emelene, too!" + +"Gallup would have to hold our rooms at half rate." + +"Of course, Mrs. Smith. I'll arrange all that." + +"I--I can't go over until evening, with three trunks to pack." + +"Just fine, Mrs. Smith. You'll be there just in time to greet George at +dinner." + +Miss Emelene fell to stroking the cat, again curled like a sardelle in her +lap. + +"Kitti-kitti-kitti--, does muvver's ittsie Hanna want to go on visit to +Tousin George in fine new ittie house? To fine Tousin Georgie what give +ittsie Hanna big saucer milk evvy day? Big fine George what like ladies and +lady kitties!" + +"Emelene, it's out of the question to take Hanna. You know how George +Remington hates cats! You remember at the Sunday School Bazaar when--" +A grimness descended like a mask over Miss Brand's features. Her mouth +thinned. + +"Very well, then. Without Hanna you can count me out, Penfield. If--" + +"No, no! Why nonsense, Miss Emelene! George doesn't--" + +"This cat has the feelings and sensibilities of a human being." + +"Why of course," cried Penfield Evans, reaching for his hat. "Just you +bring Hanna right along, Miss Emelene. That's only a pet pose of George's +when he wants to tease his relatives, Mrs. Smith. I remember from +college--why I've seen George _kiss_ a cat!" + +Miss Emelene huddled the object of controversy up in her chin, talking down +into the warm gray fur. + +"Was 'em tryin' to 'buse muvver's ittsie bittsie kittsie? Muvver's ittsie +bittsie kittsie!" + +They were in the front hall now, Mr. Evans tugging at the door. + +"I'll run around now and arrange to have your trunks called for at five. My +congratulations and thanks, ladies, for helping the right man toward the +right cause." + +"You're _sure_, Penfield, we'll be welcome?" + +"Welcome as the sun that shines!" + +"If I thought, Penfield, that Hanna wouldn't be welcome I wouldn't budge a +step." + +"Of course she's welcome, Miss Emelene. Isn't she of the gentler sex? +There'll be a cab around for you and Mrs. Smith and Hanna about five. So +long, Mrs. Smith, and many thanks. Miss Emelene, Hanna." + +On the outer steps they stood for a moment in a dapple of sunshine and +shadow from chestnut trees. + +"Good-by, Mr. Evans, until evening." + +"Good-by, Mrs. Smith." He paused on the walk, lifting his hat and flashing +his smile a third time. + +"Good-by, Miss Emelene." + +From the steps Miss Brand executed a rotary motion with the left paw of the +dangling Maltese. + +"Tell nice gentleman by-by. Tum now, Hanna, get washed and new ribbon to +go by-by. Her go to big Cousin George and piddy Cousin Genevieve. By-by! +By-by!" + +The door swung shut, enclosing them. Down the quiet, tree-shaped sidewalk, +Mr. Penfield Evans strode into the somnolent afternoon, turning down Huron +Street. At the remote end of the block and before her large frame mansion +of a thousand angles and wooden lace work, Mrs. Harvey Herrington's low car +sidled to her curb-stone, racy-looking as a hound. That lady herself, large +and modish, was in the act of stepping up and in. + +"Well, Pen Evans! 'Tis writ in the book our paths should cross." + +"Who more pleased than I?" + +"Which way are you bound?" + +"Jenkins' Transfer and Cab Service." + +"Jump in." + +"No sooner said than done." + +Mrs. Herrington threw her clutch and let out a cough of steam. They +jerked and leaped forward. From the rear of the car an orange and black +pennant--_Votes for Women_--stiffened out like a semaphore against the +breeze. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +BY DOROTHY CANFIELD + + +Genevieve Remington sat in her pretty drawing-room and watched the hour +hand of the clock slowly approach five. Five was a sacred hour in her day. +At five George left his office, turned off the business-current with a +click and turned on, full-voltage, the domestic-affectionate. + +Genevieve often told her girl friends that she only began really to live +after five, when George was restored to her. She assured them the psychical +connection between George and herself was so close that, sitting alone in +her drawing-room, she could feel a tingling thrill all over when the clock +struck five and George emerged from his office downtown. + +On the afternoon in question she received her five o'clock electric thrill +promptly on time, although history does not record whether or not George +walked out from his office at that moment. With all due respect for the +world-shaking importance of Mr. Remington's movements, it must be stated +that history had, on that afternoon, other more important events to +chronicle. + +As the clock struck five, the front doorbell rang. Marie, the maid, went +to open the door. Genevieve adjusted the down-sweeping, golden-brown tress +over her right eye, brushed an invisible speck from the piano, straightened +a rose in a vase, and after these traditionally bridal preparations, waited +with a bride's optimistic smile the advent of a caller. But it was Marie +who appeared at the door, with a stricken face of horror. + +"Mrs. Remington! Mrs. Remington!" she whispered loudly. "They've come to +stay. The men are getting their trunks down from the wagon." + +"_Who_ has come to stay? _Where?_" queried the startled bride. + +"The two ladies who came to call yesterday!" + +"_Oh!_" said the relieved Genevieve. "There's some mistake, of course. If +it's Cousin Emelene and Mrs.----" + +She advanced into the hall and was confronted by two burly men with a very +large trunk between them. + +"Which room?" said one of them in a bored and insolent voice. + +"Oh, you must have come to the wrong house," Genevieve assured them with +her pretty, friendly smile. + +She was so happy and so convinced of the essential rightness of a world +which had produced George Remington that she had a friendly smile for every +one, even for unshaven men who kept their battered derby hats on their +heads, had viciously smelling cigars in their mouths, and penetrated to her +sacred front hall with trunks which belonged somewhere else. + +"Isn't this G. L. Remington's house?" inquired one of the men, dropping his +end of the trunk and consulting a dirty slip of paper. + +"Yes, it is," admitted Genevieve, thrilling at the thought that it was also +hers. "This is the place all right, then," said the man. He heaved up his +end of the trunk again, and said once more, "Which room?" + +The repetition fell a little ominously on Genevieve's ear. What on earth +could be the matter? + +She heard voices outside and craning her soft white neck, she saw Cousin +Emelene, with her gray kitten under one arm and a large suitcase in her +other hand, coming up the steps. There was a beatific expression in her +gentle, faded eyes, and her lips were quivering uncertainly. When she +caught sight of Genevieve's sweet face back of the bored expressmen, she +gave a little cry, ran forward, set down her suitcase and clasped her young +cousin in her arms. + +"Oh Genevieve dear, that noble wonderful husband of yours! What have you +done to deserve such a man... out of this Age of Gold!" + +This was a sentiment after Genevieve's own heart, but she found it rather +too vague to meet the present somewhat tense situation. + +Cousin Emelene went on, clasping her at intervals, and talking very fast. +"I can hardly believe it! Now that my time of trial is all over I don't +mind telling you that I was growing embittered and cynical. All those +phrases my dear mother had brought me to believe, the sanctity of the home, +the chivalrous protection of men, the wicked folly of women who leave the +home to engage in fierce industrial struggle." ... At about this point the +expressmen set the trunk down, put their hands on their hips, cocked their +hats at a new angle and waited in gloomy ennui for the conversation to +stop. Cousin Emelene flowed on, her voice unsteady with a very real +emotion. + +"See, dear, you must not blame me for my lack of faith ... but see how it +looked to me. There I was, as womanly a woman as ever breathed, and yet +_I_ had no home to be sanctified, _I_ had never had a bit of chivalrous +protection from any man. And with the New Haven stocks shrinking from one +day to the next, the way they do, it looked as though I would either have +to starve or engage in the wicked, unwomanly folly of earning my own +living. Do you know, dear Genevieve, I had almost come to the point--you +know how the suffragists do keep banging away at their points--I almost +wondered if perhaps they were right and if men really mean those things +about protection and support in place of the vote.... And then George's +splendid, noble-spirited article appeared, and a kind friend interpreted +it for me and told what it really meant, for _me_! Oh, Genevieve." ... The +tears rose to her mild eyes, her gentle, flat voice faltered, she took out +a handkerchief hastily. "It seemed too good to be true," she said brokenly +into its folds. "I've longed all my life to be protected, and now I'm going +to be!" + +"Which room, please?" said the expressman. "We gotta be goin' on." + +Genevieve pinched herself hard, jumped and said "_ouch_." Yes, she was +awake, all right! + +"Oh, Marie, will you please get Hanna a saucer of milk?" said Cousin +Emelene now, seeing the maid's round eyes glaring startled from the +dining-room door. "And just warm it a little bit, don't scald it. She won't +touch it if there's the least bit of a scum on it. Just take that ice-box +chill off. Here, I'll go with you this time. Since we're going to live here +now, you'll have to do it a good many times, and I'd better show you just +how to do it right." + +She disappeared, leaving a trail of caressing baby-talk to the effect that +she would take good care of muvver's ittie bittie kittie. + +She left Genevieve for all practical purposes turned to stone. She felt as +though she were stone, from head to foot, and she could open her mouth +no more than any statue when, in answer to the next repetition, very +peremptory now, of "Which room?" a voice as peremptory called from the +open front door, "Straight upstairs; turn to your right, first door on the +left." + +As the men started forward, banging the mahogany banisters with the corners +of the trunk at every step, Mrs. Brewster-Smith stepped in, immaculate as +to sheer collar and cuffs, crisp and tailored as to suit, waved and netted +as to hair, and chilled steel and diamond point as to will-power. + +"Oh, Genevieve, I didn't see _you_ there! I didn't know why they stood +there waiting so long. I know the house so well I knew of course which room +you'll have for guests. _Dear_ old house! It will be like returning to my +childhood to live here again!" She cocked an ear toward the upper regions +and frowned, but went on smoothly. + +"Such happy girlhood hours as I have passed here! After all there is +nothing like the home feeling, is there, for us women at any rate! +We're the natural conservatives, who cling to the simple, elemental +satisfactions, and there's a heart-hunger that can only be satisfied by a +home and a man's protection! I thought George's description too beautiful +... in his article you know ... of the ideal home with the women of the +family safe within its walls, protected from the savagery of the economic +struggle which only men in their strength can bear without being crushed." + +She turned quickly and terribly to the expressmen coming down the stairs +and said in so fierce a voice that they shrank back visibly, "There's +another trunk to take up to the room next to that. And if you let it down +with the bang you did this one, you'll get something that will surprise +you! Do you hear me!" + +They shrank out, cowed and tiptoeing. Mrs. Brewster-Smith turned back to +her young cousin-by-marriage and murmured, "That was such a true and deep +saying of George's... wherever does such a young man get his wisdom!... +that women are not fitted by nature to cope with hostile forces!" + +Cousin Emelene approached from behind the statue of Genevieve, still frozen +in place with an expression of stupefaction on her white face. The older +woman put her arms around the bride's neck and gave her an affectionate +hug. + +"Oh, dearest Jinny, doesn't it seem like a dream that we're all going to be +together, all we women, in a real home, with a real man at the head of +it to direct us and give us of his strength! It does seem just like that +beautiful old-fashioned home that George drew such an exquisite picture of, +in his article, where the home was the center of the world to the women in +it. It will be to me, I assure you, dear. I feel as though I had come to a +haven, and as though I _never_ would want to leave it!" + +The expressmen were carrying up another trunk now, and so conscious of the +glittering eyes of mastery upon them that they carried it as though it were +the Ark of the Covenant and they its chosen priests. Mrs. Brewster-Smith +followed them with a firm tread, throwing over her shoulder to the stone +Genevieve below, "Oh, my dear, little Eleanor and her nurse will be in +soon. Frieda was taking Eleanor for her usual afternoon walk. Will you just +send them upstairs when they come! I suppose Frieda will have the room in +the third story, that extra room that was finished off when Uncle Henry +lived here. Emelene, you'd better come right up, too, if you expect to get +unpacked before dinner." + +She disappeared, and Emelene fluttered up after her, drawn along by +suction, apparently, like a sheet of paper in the wake of a train. The +expressmen came downstairs, still treading softly, and went out. Genevieve +was alone again in her front hall. To her came tiptoeing Marie, with wide +eyes of query and alarm. And from Marie's questioning face, Genevieve fled +away like one fleeing from the plague. + +"Don't ask me, Marie! Don't _speak_ to me. Don't you dare ask me what ... +or I'll ..." She was at the front door as she spoke, poised for flight like +a terrified doe. "I must see Mr. Remington! I don't know _what_ to tell +you, Marie, till I have seen Mr. Remington! I must see my husband! I don't +know what to say, I don't know what to _think_, until I have seen my +husband." + +Calling this eminently wifely sentiment over her shoulder she ran down the +front walk, hatless, wrapless, just as she was in her pretty flowered and +looped-up bride's house dress. She couldn't have run faster if the house +had been on fire. + +The clicking of her high heels on the concrete sidewalk was a rattling +tattoo so eloquent of disorganized panic that more than one head was thrust +from a neighboring window to investigate, and more than one head was pulled +back, nodding to the well-worn and charitable hypothesis, "Their first +quarrel." The hypothesis would instantly have been withdrawn if any one +had continued looking after the fleeing bride long enough to see her, +regardless of passers-by, fling herself wildly into her husband's arms as +he descended from the trolley-car at the corner. + +Betty Sheridan was sitting in the drawing-room of her parents' house, +rather moodily reading a book on the _Balance of Trade_. + +She had an unconfessed weakness of mind on the subject of tariffs and +international trade. Although when in college she had written a paper on it +which had been read aloud in the Economics Seminar and favorably commented +upon, she knew, in her heart of hearts, that she understood less than +nothing about the underlying principles of the subject. This nettled her +and gave her occasional nightmare moments of doubt as to the real fitness +of women for public affairs. She read feverishly all she could find on the +subject, ending by addling her brains to the point of frenzy. + +She was almost in that condition now although she did not look it in the +least as, dressed for dinner in the evening gown which replaced the stark +linens and tailored seams of her office-costume, she bent her shining head +and earnest face over the pages of the book. + +Penfield Evans took a long look at her, as one looks at a rose-bush in +bloom, before he spoke through the open door and broke the spell. + +"Oh, Betty," he called in a low tone, beckoning her with a gesture redolent +of mystery. + +Betty laid down her book and stared. "What you want?" she challenged him, +reverting to the phrase she had used when they were children together. + +"Come on out here a minute!" he said, jerking his head over his shoulder. +"I want to show you something." + +"Oh, I can't fuss around with you," said Betty, turning to her book again. +"I've got Roberts' _Balance of Trade_ out of the library and I must finish +it by tomorrow." She began to read again. + +The young man stood silent for a moment. "Great Scott!" he was saying to +himself with a sinking heart. "So _that's_ what they pick up for light +reading, when they're waiting for dinner!" + +He had a particularly gone feeling because, although he had made several +successful political speeches on international trade and foreign tariffs, +he was intelligent enough to know in his heart of hearts that he had no +real understanding of the principles involved. He had come, indeed, to +doubt if any one had! + +Now, as he watched the pretty sleek head bent over the book he had supposed +of course was a novel, he felt a qualm of real apprehension. Maybe there +was something in what that guy said, the one who wrote a book to prove +(bringing Queen Elizabeth and Catherine the Great as examples) that the +real genius of women is for political life. Maybe they _have_ a special +gift for it! Maybe, a generation or so from now, it'll be the _men_ who are +disfranchised for incompetence.... He put away as fantastic such horrifying +ideas, and with a quick action of his resolute will applied himself to the +present situation. "Oh Betty, you don't know what you're missing! It's a +sight you'll never forget as long as you live ... oh, come on! Be a sport. +Take a chance!" + +Betty was still suspicious of frivolity, but she rose, looked at her +wrist-watch and guessed she'd have a few minutes before dinner, to fool +away in light-minded society. + +"There's nothing light-minded about this!" Penny assured her gravely, +leading her swiftly down the street, around the corner, up another street +and finally, motioning her to silence, up on the well-clipped lawn of a +handsome, dignified residence, set around with old trees. + +"Look!" he whispered in her ear, dramatically pointing in through the +lighted window. "Look! What do you see?" + +Betty looked, and looked again and turned on him petulantly: + +"What foolishness are you up to now, Penfield Evans!" she whispered +energetically. "Why under the sun did you drag me out to see Emelene +and Alys Brewster-Smith dining with the Remingtons? Isn't it just the +combination of reactionary old fogies you might expect to get together ... +though I didn't know Alys ever took her little girl out to dinner-parties, +and Emelene must be perfectly crazy over that cat to take her here. Cats +make George's flesh creep. Don't you remember, at the Sunday School +Bazaar." + +He cut her short with a gesture of command, and applying his lips to her +ear so that he would not be heard inside the house, he said, "You think all +you see is Emelene and Alys taking dinner _en famille_ with the Remingtons. +Eyes that see not! What you are gazing upon is a reconstruction of +the blessed family life that existed in the good old days, before the +industrial period and the abominable practice of economic independence for +women began! You are seeing Woman in her proper place, the Home, ... if +not her own Home, somebody's Home, anybody's Home ... the Home of the man +nearest to her, who owes her protection because she can't vote. You are +gazing upon ..." + +His rounded periods were silenced by a tight clutch on his wrist. "Penfield +Evans. Don't you dare exaggerate to me! Have they come there to stay! _To +take him at his word!_" + +He nodded solemnly. + +"Their trunks are upstairs in the only two spare-rooms in the house, and +Frieda is installed in the only extra room in the attic. Marie gave notice +that she was going to quit, just before dinner. George has been telephoning +to my Aunt Harriet to see if she knows of another maid...." + +"Whatever ... whatever could have made them _think_ of such a thing!" +gasped Betty, almost beyond words. + +"I did!" said Penfield Evans, tapping himself on the chest. "It was _my_ +giant intelligence that propelled them here." + +He was conscious of a lacy rush upon him, and of a couple of soft arms +which gave him an impassioned embrace none the less vigorous because the +arms were more used to tennis-racquets and canoe-paddles than impassioned +embraces. Then he was thrust back ... and there was Betty, collapsed +against a lilac bush, shaking and convulsed, one hand pressed hard on her +mouth to keep back the shrieks of merriment which continually escaped in +suppressed squeals, the other hand outstretched to ward him off.... + +"No, don't you touch me, I didn't mean a thing by it! I just couldn't help +it! It's too, _too_ rich! Oh Penny, you duck! Oh, I shall die! I shall die! +I never saw anything so funny in my life! Oh, Penny, take me away or I +shall perish here and now!" + +On the whole, in spite of the repulsing hand, he took it that he had +advanced his cause. He broke into a laugh, more light-hearted than he had +uttered for a long time. They stood for a moment more in the soft darkness, +gazing in with rapt eyes at the family scene. Then they reeled away up the +street, gasping and choking with mirth, festooning themselves about trees +for support when their legs gave way under them. + +"_Did_ you see George's face when Emelene let the cat eat out of her +plate!" cried Betty. + +"And did you see Genevieve's when Mrs. Brewster-Smith had the dessert set +down in front of her to serve!" + +"How about little Eleanor upsetting the glass of milk on George's +trousers!" + +"Oh _poor_ old George! Did you ever see such gloom!" + +Thus bubbling, they came again to Betty's home with the door still open +from which she had lately emerged. There Betty fell suddenly silent, all +the laughter gone from her face. The man peered in the dusk, apprehensive. +What had gone wrong, now, after all? + +"Do you know, Penny, we're pigs!" she said suddenly, with energy. "We're +hateful, abominable pigs!" + +He glared at her and clutched his hair. + +"Didn't you see Emelene Brand's face? I can't get it out of my mind! It +makes me sick, it was so happy and peaceful and befooled! Poor old dear! +She _believes_ all that! And she's the only one who does! And its beastly +in us to make a joke of it! She has wanted a home all her life, and she'd +have made a lovely one, too, for children! And she's been kept from it by +all this fool's talk about womanliness." + +"Help! What under the sun are you ..." began Penfield. + +"Why, look here, she's not and never was, the kind any man wants to marry. +She wouldn't have liked a real husband, either ... poor, dear, thin-blooded +old child! But she wanted a _home_ just the same. Everybody does! And if +she had been taught how to earn a decent living, if she hadn't been fooled +out of her five senses by that idiotic cant about a man's doing everything +for you, or else going without ... why she'd be working now, a happy, +useful woman, bringing up two or three adopted children in a decent home +she'd made for them with her own efforts ... instead of making her loving +heart ridiculous over a cat...." + +She dashed her hand over her eyes angrily, and stood silent for a moment, +trying to control her quivering chin before she went into the house. + +The young man touched her shoulder with reverent fingers. "Betty," he said +in a rather unsteady voice, "its _true_, all that bally-rot about women +being better than men. You _are_!" + +With which very modern compliment, he turned and left her. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +BY KATHLEEN NORRIS + + +Her first evening with her augmented family Genevieve Remington never +forgot. It is not at all likely that George ever forgot it, either; but to +George it was only one in the series of disturbing events that followed his +unqualified repudiation of the suffrage cause. + +To Genevieve's tender heart it meant the wreckage, not the preservation of +the home; that lovely home to whose occupancy she had so hopefully looked. +She was too young a wife to recognize in herself the evanescent emotions of +the bride. The blight had fallen upon her for all time. What had been fire +was ashes; it was all over. The roseate dream had been followed by a cruel, +and a lasting, awakening. + +Some day Genevieve would laugh at the memory of this tragic evening, as she +laughed at George's stern ultimatums, and at Junior's decision to be an +engineer, and at Jinny's tiny cut thumb. But she had no sense of humor now. +As she ran to the corner, and poured the whole distressful story into her +husband's ears, she felt the walls of her castle in Spain crashing about +her ears. + +George, of course, was wonderful; he had been that all his life. He only +smiled, at first, at her news. + +"You poor little sweetheart!" he said to his wife, as she clung to his arm, +and they entered the house together. "It's a shame to distress you so, just +as we are getting settled, and Marie and Lottie are working in! But it's +too absurd, and to have you worry your little head is ridiculous, of +course! Let them stay here to dinner, and then I'll just quietly take it +for granted that they are going home--" + +"But--but their trunks are here, dearest!" + +Husband and wife were in their own room now, and Genevieve was rapidly +recovering her calm. George turned from his mirror to frown at her in +surprise. "Their trunks! They didn't lose any time, did they? But do you +mean to say there was no telephoning--no notice at all?" + +"They may have telephoned, George, love. But I was over at Grace Hatfield's +for a while, and I got back just before they came in!" + +George went on with his dressing, a thoughtful expression on his face. +Genevieve thought he looked stunning in the loose Oriental robe he wore +while he shaved. + +"Well, whatever they think, we can't have this, you know," he said +presently. "I'll have to be quite frank with Alys,--of course Emelene has +no sense!" + +"Yes, be quite frank!" Genevieve urged eagerly. "Tell them that of course +you were only speaking figuratively. Nobody ever means that a woman really +can't get along without a man's protection, because look at the women who +_do_--" + +She stopped, a little troubled by the expression on his face. + +"I said what I truly believe, dear," he said kindly. "You know that!" +Genevieve was silent. Her heart beat furiously, and she felt that she was +going to cry. He was angry with her--he was angry with her! Oh, what had +she said, what _had_ she said! + +"But for all that," George continued, after a moment, "nobody but two women +could have put such an idiotic construction upon my words. I am certainly +going to make that point with Alys. A sex that can jump headlong to such +a perfectly untenable conclusion is very far from ready to assume the +responsibilities of citizenship--" + +"George, dearest!" faltered Genevieve. She did not want to make him +cross again, but she could not in all loyalty leave him under this +misunderstanding, to approach the always articulate Alys. + +"George, it was Penny, I'm sure!" she said. "From what they said,--they +talked all the time!--I think Penny went to see them, and sort of--sort +of--suggested this! I'm so sorry, George--" + +George was sulphurously silent. + +"And Penny will make the most of it, you know!" + +Genevieve went on quickly and nervously. "If you should send them back, +tonight, I know he'd tell Betty! And Betty says she is coming to see you +because she has been asked to read an answer to your paper, at the Club, +and she might--she has such a queer sense of humor--" + +Silence. Genevieve wished that she was dead, and that every one was dead. + +"I don't want to criticize you, dear," George said presently, in his +kindest tone. "But the time to _act_, of course, was when they first +arrived. I can't do anything now. We'll just have to face it through, for a +few days." + +It was not much of a cloud, but it was their first. Genevieve went +downstairs with tears in her eyes. + +She had wanted their home to be so cozy, so dainty, so intimate! And now to +have two grown women and a child thrust into her Paradise! Marie was sulky, +rattling the silver-drawer viciously while her mistress talked to her, and +Lottie had an ugly smile as she submitted respectfully that there wasn't +enough asparagus. + +Then George's remoteness was terrifying. He carved with appalling courtesy. +"Is there another chicken, Genevieve?" he asked, as if he had only an +impersonal interest in her kitchen. No, there was only the one. And plenty, +too, said the guests pleasantly. Genevieve hoped there were eggs and bacon +for Marie and Lottie and Frieda. + +"I'm going to ask you for just a mouthful more, it tastes so delicious and +homy!" said Alys. "And then I want to talk a little business, George. It's +about those houses of mine, out in Kentwood...." + +George looked at her blankly, over his drumstick. + +"Darling Tom left them," said Tom's widow, "and they really have rented +well. They're right near the factory, you know. But now, just lately, some +man from the agents has been writing and writing me; he says that one of +them has been condemned, and that unless I do something or other they'll +all be condemned. It's a horrid neighborhood, and I don't like the idea, +anyway, of a woman poking about among drains and cellars. Yet, if I send +the agent, he'll run me into fearful expense; they always do. So I'm going +to take them out of his hands tomorrow, and turn it all over to you, and +whatever you decide will be best!" + +"My dear girl, I'm the busiest man in the world!" George said. "Leave all +that to Allen. He's the best agent in town!" + +"Oh, I took them away from Allen months ago, George. Sampson has them now." + +"Sampson? What the deuce did you change for? I don't know that Sampson is +solvent. I certainly would go back to Allen--" + +"George, I can't!" + +The widow looked at her plate, swept him a coquettish glance, and dropped +her eyes again. + +"Mr. Allen is a dear fellow," she elucidated, "but his wife is dreadful! +There's nothing she won't suspect, and nothing she won't say!" + +"My dear cousin, this isn't a question of social values! It's business!" +George said impatiently. "But I'll tell you what to do," he added, after +scowling thought. "You put it in Miss Eliot's hands; she was with Allen +for some years. Now she's gone in for herself, and she's doing well. We've +given her several things--" "Take it out of a man's hands to put it into a +woman's!" Alys exclaimed. And Emelene added softly: + +"What can a woman be thinking of, to go into a dreadful business like +selling real estate and collecting rents!" + +"Of course, she was trained by men!" Genevieve threw in, a little +anxiously. Alys was so tactless, when George was tired and hungry. She cast +about desperately for some neutral topic, but before she could find one the +widow spoke again. + +"I'll tell you what I'll do, George. I'll bring the books and papers to +your office tomorrow morning, and then you can do whatever you think best! +Just send me a check every month, and it will be all right!" + +"Just gather me up what's there, on the plate," Emelene said, with her +nervous little laugh in the silence. "I declare I don't know when I've +eaten such a dinner! But that reminds me that you could help me +out wonderfully, too, Cousin George--I can't quite call you Mr. +Remington!--with those wretched stocks of mine. I'm sure I don't know what +they've been doing, but I know I get less money all the time! It's the New +Haven, George, that P'pa left me two years ago. I can't understand anything +about it, but yesterday I was talking to a young man who advised me to +put all my money into some tonic stock. It's a tonic made just of plain +earth--he says it makes everything grow. Doesn't it sound reasonable? But +if I should lose all I have, I'm afraid I'd _really_ wear my welcome out, +Genevieve, dear. So perhaps you'll advise me?" + +"I'll do what I can!" George smiled, and Genevieve's heart rose. "But upon +my word, what you both tell me isn't a strong argument for Betty's cause!" +he added good-naturedly. + +"P'pa always said," Emelene quoted, "that if a woman looked about for a man +to advise her, she'd find him! And as I sit here now, in this lovely +home, I think--isn't it sweeter and wiser and better this way? For a +while,--because I was a hot-headed, rebellious girl!--I couldn't see that +he was right. I had had a disappointment, you know," she went on, her kind, +mild eyes watering. Genevieve, who had been gazing in some astonishment +at the once hot-headed, rebellious girl, sighed sympathetically. Every one +knew about the Reverend Mr. Totter's death. + +"And after that I just wanted to be busy," continued Emelene. "I wanted to +be a trained nurse, or a matron, or something! I look back at it now, and +wonder what I was thinking about! And then dear Mama went, and I stepped +into her place with P'pa. He wasn't exactly an invalid, but he did like to +be fussed over, to have his meals cooked by my own hands, even if we were +in a hotel. And whist--dear me, how I used to dread those three rubbers +every evening! I was only a young woman then, and I suppose I was +attractive to other men, but I never forgot Mr. Totter. And Cousin George," +she turned to him submissively, "when you were talking about a woman's real +sphere, I felt--well, almost guilty. Because only that one man ever asked +me. Do you think, feeling as I did, that I should have deliberately made +myself attractive to men?" + +George cleared his throat. "All women can't marry, I suppose. It's in +England, I believe, that there are a million unmarried women. But you have +made a contented and a womanly life for yourself, and, as a matter of fact, +there always _has_ been a man to stand between you and the struggle!" he +said. + +"I know. First P'pa, and now you!" Emelene mused happily. + +"I wasn't thinking of myself. I was thinking that your father left you a +comfortable income!" he said quickly. + +"And now you have asked me here; one of the dearest old places in town!" +Emelene added innocently. + +Genevieve listened in a stupefaction. This was married life, then? Not +since her childhood had Genevieve so longed to stamp, to scream, to +protest, to tear this twisted scheme apart and start anew! + +She was not a crying woman, but she wanted to cry now. She was not--she +told herself indignantly--quite a fool. But she felt that if George went +on being martyred, and mechanically polite, and grim, she would go into +hysterics. She had been married less than six weeks; that night she cried +herself to sleep. + +Her guests were as agreeable as their natures permitted; but Genevieve was +reduced, before the third day of their visit, to a condition of continual +tears. + +This was her home, this was the place sacred to George and herself, and +their love. Nobody in the world,--not his mother, not hers, had their +mothers been living!--was welcome here. She had planned to be such a good +wife to him, so thoughtful, so helpful, so brave when he must be away. +But she could not rise to the height of sharing him with other women, and +saying whatever she said to him in the hearing of witnesses. And then she +dared not complain too openly! That was an additional hardship, for if +George insulted his guests, then that horrid Penny-- + +Genevieve had always liked Penny, and had danced and flirted with him aeons +ago. She had actually told Betty that she hoped Betty would marry Penny. +But now she felt that she loathed him. He was secretly laughing at George, +at George who had dared to take a stand for old-fashioned virtue and the +purity of the home! + +It was all so unexpected, so hard. Women everywhere were talking about +George's article, and expected her to defend it! George, she could have +defended. But how could she talk about a subject upon which she was not +informed, in which, indeed, as she was rather fond of saying, she was +absolutely uninterested? + +George was changed, too. Something was worrying him; and it was hard on the +darling old boy to come home to Miss Emelene and the cat and Eleanor and +Alys, every night! Emelene adored him, of course, and Alys was always +interesting and vivacious, but--but it wasn't like coming home to his own +little Genevieve! + +The bride wept in secret, and grew nervous and timid in manner. Mrs. +Brewster-Smith, however, found this comprehensible enough, and one hot +summer afternoon Genevieve went into George's office with her lovely +head held high, her color quite gone, and her breath coming quickly with +indignation. [Illustration: It was hard on the darling old boy to come home +to Miss Emelene and the cat and Eleanor and Alys every night!] "George--I +don't care what we do, or where we go! But I can't stand it! She said--she +said--she told me--" + +Her husband was alone in his office, and Genevieve was now crying in his +arms. He patted her shoulder tenderly. + +"I'm so worried all the time about dinners, and Lottie's going, and that +child getting downstairs and letting in flies and licking the frosting off +the maple cake," sobbed Genevieve, "that of _course_ I show it! And if I +_have_ given up my gym work, it's just because I was so busy trying to get +some one in Lottie's place! And now they say--they say--that _they_ know +what the matter is, and that I mustn't dance or play golf--the horrible, +spying cats! I won't go back, George, I will not! I--" + +Again George was wonderful. He put his arm about her, and she sat down on +the edge of his desk, and leaned against that dear protective shoulder and +dried her eyes on one of his monogrammed handkerchiefs. He reminded her of +a long-standing engagement for this evening with Betty and Penny, to go out +to Sea Light and have dinner and a swim, and drive home in the moonlight. +And when she was quiet again, he said tenderly: + +"You mustn't let the 'cats' worry you, Pussy. What they think isn't true, +and I don't blame you for getting cross! But in one way, dear, aren't they +right? Hasn't my little girl been riding and driving and dancing a little +too hard? Is it the wisest thing, just now? You have been nervous lately, +dear, and excitable. Mightn't there be a reason? Because I don't have to +tell you, sweetheart, nothing would make me prouder, and Uncle Martin, of +course, has made no secret of how _he_ feels! You wouldn't be sorry, dear?" + +Genevieve had always loved children deeply. Long before this her happy +dreams had peopled the old house in Sheridan Road with handsome, dark-eyed +girls, and bright-eyed boys like their father. + +But, to her own intense astonishment, she found this speech from her +husband distasteful. George would be "proud," and Uncle Martin pleased. +But it suddenly occurred to Genevieve that neither George nor Uncle Martin +would be tearful and nervous. Neither George nor Uncle Martin need eschew +golf and riding and dancing. To be sick, when she had always been so well! +To face death, for which she had always had so healthy a horror! Cousin +Alex had died when her baby came, and Lois Farwell had never been well +after the fourth Farwell baby made his appearance. + +Genevieve's tears died as if from flame. She gently put aside the +sustaining arm, and went to the little mirror on the wall, to straighten +her hat. She remembered buying this hat, a few weeks ago, in the ecstatic +last days of the old life. + +"We needn't talk of that yet, George," she said quietly. + +She could see George's grieved look, in the mirror. There was a short +silence in the office. + +Then Betty Sheridan, cool in pongee, came briskly in. + +"Hello, Jinny!" said she. "Had you forgotten our plan tonight? You're +chaperoning me, I hope you realize! I'm rather difficile, too. Genevieve, +Pudge is outside; he'll take you out and buy you something cold. I took him +to lunch today. It was disgraceful! Except for a frightful-looking mess +called German Pot Roast With Carrots and Noodles Sixty, he ate nothing but +melon, lemon-meringue pie, and pineapple special. I was absolutely ashamed! +George, I would have speech with you." + +"Private business, Betty?" he asked pleasantly. "My wife may not have the +vote, but I trust her with all my affairs!" + +"Indeed, I'm not in the least interested!" Genevieve said saucily. + +She knew George was pleased with her as she went happily away. + +"It's just as well Jinny went," said Betty, when she and the +district-attorney-elect were alone. "Because it's that old bore Colonel +Jaynes! He's come again, and he says he _will_ see you!" + +Deep red rose in George's handsome face. + +"He came here last week, and he came yesterday," Betty said, sitting down, +"and really I think you should see him! You see, George, in that far-famed +article of yours, you remarked that 'a veteran of the civil as well as the +Spanish war' had told you that it was the restless outbreaking of a few +northern women that helped to precipitate the national catastrophe, and he +wants to know if you meant him!" + +"I named no names!" George said, with dignity, yet uneasily, too. + +"I know you didn't. But you see we haven't many veterans of _both_ wars," +Betty went on, pleasantly. "And of course old Mrs. Jaynes is a rabid +suffragist, and she is simply hopping. He's a mild old man, you know, and +evidently he wants to square things with 'Mother.' Now, George, who _did_ +you mean?" + +"A statement like that may be made in a general sense," George remarked, +after scowling thought. + +"You might have made the statement on your own hook," Betty conceded, "but +when you mention an anonymous Colonel, of course they all sit up! He says +that he's going to get a signed statement from you that _he_ never said +that, and publish it!" + +"Ridiculous!" said George. + +"Then here are two letters," Betty pursued. "One is from the corresponding +secretary of the Women's Non-partisan Pacific Coast Association. She says +that they would be glad to hear from you regarding your statement that +equal suffrage, in the western states, is an acknowledged failure." + +"She'll wait!" George predicted grimly. + +"Yes, I suppose so. But she's written to our Mrs. Herrington here, asking +her to follow up the matter. George, dear," asked Betty maternally, "_why_ +did you do it? Why couldn't you let well enough alone!" + +"What's your other letter?" asked George. + +"It's just from Mr. Riker, of the _Sentinel_, George. He wants you to drop +in. It seems that they want a correction on one of your statistics about +the number of workingwomen in the United States who don't want the vote. He +says it only wants a signed line from you that you were mistaken--" + +Refusing to see Colonel Jaynes, or to answer the Colonel's letter, George +curtly telephoned the editor of the _Sentinel_, and walked home at four +o'clock, his cheeks still burning, his mind in a whirl. Big issues should +have been absorbing him: and his mind was pestered instead with these +midges of the despised cause. Well, it was all in the day's work-- + +And here was his sweet, devoted wife, fluttering across the hall, as cool +as a rose, in her pink and white. And she had packed his things, in case +they wanted to spend the night at Sea Light, and the "cats" had gone off +for library books, and he must have some ginger-ale, before it was time to +go for Betty and Penny. + +The day was perfection. The motor-car purred like a racing tiger under +George's gloved hand. Betty and Penny were waiting, and the three young +persons forgot all differences, and laughed and chatted in the old happy +way, as they prepared for the start. But Betty was carrying a book: +_Catherine of Russia_. + +"Do you know why suffragists should make an especial study of queens, +George?" she asked, as she and Penny settled themselves on the back seat. + +"Well, I'll be interlocutor," George smiled, glancing up at the house, from +which his wife might issue at any moment. "Why should suffragists read the +lives of queens, Miss Bones?" + +"Because queens are absolutely the only women in all history who had equal +rights!" Betty answered impassively. "Do you realize that? The only women +whose moral and social and political instincts had full sway!" + +"And a sweet use they made of them, sometimes!" said George. + +"And who were the great rulers," pursued Betty. "Whose name in English +history is like the names of Elizabeth and Victoria, or Matilda or Mary, +for the matter of that? Who mended and conserved and built up what the +kings tore down and wasted? Who made Russia an intellectual power--" + +Again Penny had an odd sense of fear. Were women perhaps superior to men, +after all! + +"I don't think Catherine of Russia is a woman to whom a lady can point with +pride," George said conclusively. Genevieve, who had appeared, shot Betty a +triumphant glance as they started. Pudge waved to them from the candy store +at the corner. + +"There's a new candy store every week!" said Penny, shuddering. "Heaven +help that poor boy; it must be in the blood!" + +"Women must always have something sweet to nibble," George said, leaning +back. "The United States took in two millions last year in gum alone!" + +"Men chew gum!" suggested Betty. + +"But come now, Betty, be fair!" George said. "Which sex eats more candy?" + +"Well, I suppose women do," she admitted. + +"You count the candy stores, down Main Street," George went on, "and ask +yourself how it is that these people can pay rents and salaries just on +candy,--nothing else. Did you ever think of that?" + +"Well, I could vote with a chocolate in my mouth!" Betty muttered +mutinously, as the car turned into the afternoon peace of the main +thoroughfare. + +"You count them on your side, Penny, and I will on mine!" Genevieve +suggested. "All down the street." "Well, wait--we've passed two!" Penny +said excitedly. + +"Go on; there's three. That grocery store with candy in the window!" + +"Groceries don't count!" objected Betty. + +"Oh, they do, too! And drug stores.... Every place that sells candy!" + +"Drug stores and groceries and fruit stores only count half a point," Betty +stipulated. "Because they sell other things!" + +"That's fair enough," George conceded here, with a nod. + +Genevieve and Penny almost fell out of the car in their anxiety not to miss +a point, and George quite deliberately lingered on the cross-streets, so +that the damning total might be increased. + +Laughing and breathless, they came to the bridge that led from the town to +the open fields, and took the count. + +"One hundred and two and a half!" shouted Penny and Genevieve triumphantly. +George smiled over his wheel. + +"Oh, women, women!" he said. "One hundred and sixty-one!" said Betty. There +was a shout of protest. + +"Oh, Betty Sheridan! You didn't! Why, we didn't miss _one_!" + +"I wasn't counting candy stores," smiled Betty. "Just to be different, I +counted cigar stores and saloons. But it doesn't signify much either way, +does it, George?" + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +BY HENRY KITCHELL WEBSTER + + +Of the quartette who, an hour later, emerged from the bath-houses and +scampered across the satiny beech into a discreetly playful surf, Genevieve +was the one real swimmer. She was better even than Penny, and she left +Betty and George nowhere. + +She had an endless repertory of amphibious stunts which she performed with +gusto, and in the intervals she took an equal satisfaction in watching +Penny's heroic but generally disastrous attempts to imitate them. + +The other two splashed around aimlessly and now and then remonstrated. + +Now, it's all very well to talk about two hearts beating as one, and in the +accepted poetical sense of the words, of course Genevieve's and George's +did. But as a matter of physiological fact, they didn't. At the end of +twenty minutes or so George began turning a delicate blue and a clatter as +of distant castanets provided an obligato when he spoke, the same being +performed by George's teeth. + +The person who made these observations was Betty. + +"You'd better go out," she said. "You're freezing." + +It ought to have been Genevieve who said it, of course, though the fact +that she was under water more than half the time might be advanced as her +excuse for failing to say it. But who could venture to excuse the downright +callous way in which she exclaimed, "Already? Why we've just got in! Come +along and dive through that wave. That'll warm you up!" + +It was plain to George that she didn't care whether he was cold or not. +And, though the idea wouldn't quite go into words, it was also clear to him +that an ideal wife--a really womanly wife--would have turned blue just a +little before he began to. + +"Thanks," he said, in a cold blue voice that matched the color of his +finger nails. "I think I've had enough." + +Betty came splashing along beside him. + +"I'm going out, too," she said. "We'll leave these porpoises to their +innocent play." + +This was almost pure amiability, because she wasn't cold, and she'd been +having a pretty good time. Her other (practically negligible) motive was +that Penny might be reminded, by her withdrawal, of his forgotten promise +to teach her to float--and be sorry. Altogether, George would have been +showing only a natural and reasonable sense of his obligations if he'd +brightened up and flirted with her a little, instead of glooming out to sea +the way he did, paying simply no attention to her at all. So at last she +pricked him. + +"Isn't it funny," she said, "the really blighting contempt that swimmers +feel for people who can't feel at home in the water--people who gasp and +shiver and keep their heads dry?" + +She could see that, in one way, this remark had done George good. It helped +warm him up. Leaning back on her hands, as she did, she could see the red +come up the back of his neck and spread into his ears. But it didn't make +him conversationally any more exciting. He merely grunted. So she tried +again. + +"I suppose," she said dreamily, "that the myth about mermaids must be +founded in fact. Or is it sirens I'm thinking about? Perfectly fascinating, +irresistible women, who lure men farther and farther out, in the hope of a +kiss or something, until they get exhausted and drown. I'll really be glad +when Penny gets back alive." + +"And I shall be very glad," said George, trying hard for a tone of +condescending indifference appropriate for use with one who has played +dolls with one's little sister, "I shall really be very glad when you make +up your mind what you are going to do with Penny. He's just about a total +loss down at the office as it is, and he's getting a worse idiot from day +to day. And the worst of it is, I imagine you know all the while what +you're going to do about it--whether you're going to take him or not." + +The girl flushed at that. He was being almost too outrageously rude, even +for George. But before she said anything to that effect, she thought of +something better. + +"I shall never marry any man," she said very intensely, "whose heart is not +with the Cause. You know what Cause I mean, George--the Suffrage Cause. +When I see thoughtless girls handing over their whole lives to men who ..." + +It sounded like the beginning of an oration. + +"Good Lord!" her victim cried. "Isn't there anything else than that to talk +about--_ever_?" + +"But just think how lucky you are, George," she said, "that at home they +all think exactly as you do!" + +He jumped up. Evidently this reminder of the purring acquiescences of +Cousin Emelene and Mrs. Brewster-Smith laid no balm upon his harassed +spirit. + +"You may leave my home alone, if you please." + +He was frightfully annoyed, of course, or he wouldn't have said anything +as crude as that. In a last attempt to recover his scattered dignity, he +caught at his office manner. "By the way," he said, "you forgot to remind +me today to write a letter to that Eliot woman about Mrs. Brewster-Smith's +cottages." + +With that he stalked away to dress. Genevieve and Penny, now shoreward +bound, hailed him. But it wasn't quite impossible to pretend he didn't +hear, and he did it. + +The dinner afterward at the Sea Light Inn was a rather gloomy affair. +George's lonely grandeur was only made the worse, it seemed, by Genevieve's +belated concern lest he might have taken cold through not having gone and +dressed directly he came out of the water. Genevieve then turned very +frosty to Penny, having decided suddenly that it was all his fault. + +As for Betty, though she was as amiable a little soul as breathed, she +didn't see why she should make any particular effort to console Penny, just +because his little flirtation with Genevieve had stopped with a bump. + +Even the ride home in the moonlight didn't help much. Genevieve sat beside +George on the front seat, and between them there stretched a tense, tragic +silence. In the back seat with Penfield Evans, and in the intervals of +frustrating his attempts to hold her hand, Betty considered how frightfully +silly young married couples could be over microscopic differences. + +But Betty was wrong here and the married pair on the front seat were right. + +Just reflect for a minute what Genevieve's George was. He was her knight, +her Bayard, her thoroughly Tennysonian King Arthur. The basis of her +adoration was that he should remain like that. You can see then what a +staggering experience it was to have caught herself, even for a minute, in +the act of smiling over him as sulky and absurd. + +And think of George's Genevieve! A saint enshrined, that his soul could +profitably bow down before whenever it had leisure to escape from the +activities of a wicked world. Fancy his horror over the mere suspicion +that she could be indifferent to his wishes--his comfort--even his health, +because of a mere tomboy flirtation with a man who could swim better than +he could! Most women were like that, he knew--vain, shallow, inconstant +creatures! But was not his pearl an exception? It was horrible to have to +doubt it. + +By three o'clock the next morning, after many tears and much grave +discourse, they succeeded in getting these doubts to sleep--killing them, +they'd have said, beyond the possibility of resurrection. It was the +others who had made all the trouble. If only they could have the world to +themselves--no Cousin Emelene, no Alys Brewster-Smith, no Penfield Evans +and Betty Sheridan, with their frivolity and low ideals, to complicate +things! An Arcadian Island in some Aeonian Sea. + +"Well," he said hopefully, "our home can be like that. It shall be like +that, when we get rid of Alys and her horrible little girl, and Cousin +Emelene and her unspeakable cat. It shall be our world; and no troubles or +cares or worries shall ever get in there!" + +She acquiesced in this prophecy, but even as she did so, cuddling her face +against his own, a low-down, unworthy spook, whose existence in her he must +never suspect, said audibly in her inner ear, "Much he knows about it!" +Betty did not forget to remind George of the letter he was to write to Miss +Eliot about taking over the agency of Mrs. Brewster-Smith's cottages. In +the composition of this letter George washed his hands of responsibility +with, you might say, antiseptic care. + +He had taken pleasure in recommending Miss Eliot, he explained, and Mrs. +Brewster-Smith was acting on his recommendation. Any questions arising out +of the management of the property should be taken up directly with her +client. Miss Eliot would have no difficulty in understanding that the +enormous pressure of work which now beset him precluded him from having +anything more to do with the matter. + +The letter was typed and inclosed in a big linen envelope, with the mess +of papers Alys had dumped upon his desk a few days previously, and it was +despatched forthwith by the office boy. + +"There," said George on a note of grim satisfaction, "that's done!" + +The grimness lasted, but the satisfaction did not. Or only until the return +of the office boy, half an hour later, with the identical envelope and a +three-line typewritten note from Miss Eliot. She was sorry to say, she +wrote, that she did not consider it advisable to undertake the agency for +the property in question. Thanking him, nevertheless, for his courtesy, she +was his very truly, E. Eliot. + +George summoned Betty by means of the buzzer, and asked her, with icy +indignation, what she thought of that. But, as he was visibly bursting with +impatience to say what _he_ thought of it, she gave him the opportunity. + +"I thought you advanced women," he said, "were supposed to stand by each +other--stand by all women--try to make things better for them. One for +all--all for one. That sort of thing. But it really works the other way. +It's just because a woman owns those cottages that Miss Eliot won't have +anything to do with them. She knows that women are unreasonable and hard to +get on with in business matters, so she passes the buck! Back to a man, if +you please, who hasn't any more real responsibility for it than she has." + +There was, of course, an obvious retort to this; namely, that business was +business, and that a business woman had the same privilege a business man +had, of declining a job that looked as if it would entail more bother than +it was worth. But Betty couldn't quite bring herself to take this line. +Women, if they could ever get the chance (through the vote and in other +ways), were going to make the world a better place--run it on a better lot +of ideals. It wouldn't do to begin justifying women on the ground that they +were only doing what men did. As well abandon the whole crusade right at +the beginning. + +George saw her looking rather thoughtful, and pressed his advantage. +Suppose Betty went and saw Miss Eliot personally, sometime today, and urged +her to reconsider. The business didn't amount to much, it was true, and it +no doubt involved the adjustment of some troublesome details. But unless +Miss Eliot would undertake it, he wouldn't know just where to turn. Alys +had quarreled with Allen, and Sampson was a skate. And perhaps a little +plain talk to Alys about the condition of the cottages--"from one of her +own sex," George said this darkly and looked away out of the window at the +time--might be productive of good. + +"All right," Betty agreed, "I'll see what I can do. It's kind of hard to go +to a woman you barely know by sight, and talk to her about her duty, but I +guess I'm game. If you can spare me, I'll go now and get it over with." + +There were no frills about Edith Eliot's real estate office, though the air +of it was comfortably busy and prosperous. + +The place had once been a store. An architect's presentation of an +apartment building, now rather dusty, occupied the show-window. There was +desk accommodation for two or three of those bright young men who make a +selection of keys and take people about to look at houses; there was a +stenographer's desk with a stenographer sitting at it; and back of a table +in the corner, in the attitude of one making herself as comfortable as +the heat of the day would permit, while she scowled over a voluminous +typewritten document, was E. Eliot herself. It was almost superfluous to +mention that her name was Edith. She never signed it, and there was no one, +in Whitewater anyway, who called her by it. + +She was a big-boned young woman (that is, if you call the middle thirties +young), with an intelligent, homely face, which probably got the attraction +some people surprisingly found in it from the fact that she thought nothing +about its looks one way or the other. It was rather red when Betty came in, +and she was making it rapidly redder with the vigorous ministrations of a +man's-size handkerchief. + +She greeted Betty with a cordial "how-de-doo," motioned her to the other +chair at the table (Betty had a fleeting wish that she might have dusted it +before she sat down), and asked what she could do for her. + +"I'm from Mr. Remington's office," Betty said, "Remington and Evans. He +wrote you a note this morning about some cottages that belong to a cousin +of his, Mrs. Brewster-Smith." + +"I answered that note by his own messenger," said E. Eliot. "He should have +got the reply before this." "Oh, he got it," said Betty, "and was rather +upset about it. What I've come for, is to urge you to reconsider." + +E. Eliot smiled rather grimly at her blotting-pad, looked up at Betty, and +allowed her smile to change its quality. What she said was not what she had +meant to say before she looked up. E. Eliot was always upbraiding herself +for being sentimental about youth and beauty in her own sex. She'd never +been beautiful, and she'd never been young--not young like Betty. But the +upbraidings never did any good. + +She said: "I thought I had considered sufficiently when I answered Mr. +Remington's note. But it's possible I hadn't. What is it you think I may +have overlooked?" + +"Why," said Betty, "George thought the reason you wouldn't take the +cottages was because a woman owned them. He used it as a sort of example +of how women wouldn't stick together. He said that you probably knew that +women were unreasonable and hard to deal with and didn't want the bother." + +It disconcerted Betty a little that E. Eliot interposed no denial at +this point, though she'd paused to give her the opportunity. + +"You see," she went on a little breathlessly, "I'm for women suffrage and +economic independence and all that. I think it's perfectly wonderful +that you should be doing what you are--showing that women can be just as +successful in business as men can. Of course I know that you've got a +perfect _right_ to do just what a man would do--refuse to take a piece of +business that wasn't worth while. But--but what we hope is, and what we +want to show men is, that when women get into politics and business they'll +be better and less selfish." + +"Which do you mean will be better?" E. Eliot inquired. "The politics and +the business, or the women?" + +"I mean the politics and the business," Betty told her rather frostily. Was +the woman merely making fun of her? + +E. Eliot caught the note. "I meant my question seriously," she said. "It +has a certain importance. But I didn't mean to interrupt you. Go ahead." +"Well," Betty said, "that's about all. George--Mr. Remington--that is--is +running for district attorney, and he has come out against suffrage as you +know. I thought perhaps this was a chance to convert him a little. It would +be a great favor to him, anyway, if you took the cottages; because he +doesn't know whom to turn to, if you won't. I didn't come to try to tell +you what your duty is, but I thought perhaps you hadn't just looked at it +that way." + +"All right," said E. Eliot. "Now I'll tell you how I do look at it. In the +first place, about doing business for women. It all depends on the woman +you're doing business with. If she's had the business training of a man, +she's as easy to deal with as a man. If she's never had any business +training at all, if business doesn't mean anything to her except some vague +hocus-pocus that produces her income, then she's seven kinds of a Tartar. + +"She has no more notion about what she has a right to expect from other +people, or what they've a right to expect from her, than a white Angora +cat. Of course, the majority of women who have property to attend to have +had it dumped on their hands in middle life, or after, by the wills of +loving husbands. Those women, I'll say frankly, are the devil and all to +deal with. But it's their husbands' and fathers' fault, and not their own. +Anyhow, that isn't the reason I wouldn't take those cottages. + +"It was the cottages themselves, and not the woman who owned them, that +decided me. That whole Kentwood district is a disgrace to civilization. The +sanitary conditions are filthy; have been for years. The owners have been +resisting condemnation proceedings right along, on the ground that the +houses brought in so little rental that it would be practical confiscation +to compel them to make any improvements. Now, since the war boon struck the +mills, and every place with four walls and a roof is full, they're saying +they can't afford to make any change because of the frightful loss they'd +suffer in potential profits. + +"Well, when you agree to act as a person's agent, you've got to act in that +person's interest; and when it's a question of the interest of the owners +of those Kentwood cottages, whether they're men or women, my idea was that +I didn't care for the job." + +"I think you're perfectly right about it," Betty said. "I wouldn't have +come to urge you to change your mind, if I had understood what the +situation was. But," here she held out her hand, "I'm glad I did come, +and I wish we might meet again sometime and get acquainted and talk about +things." + +"No time like the present," said E. Eliot. "Sit down again, if you've got a +minute." She added, as Betty dropped back into her chair, "You're Elizabeth +Sheridan, aren't you?--Judge Sheridan's daughter? And you're working as a +stenographer for Remington and Evans?" + +Betty nodded and stammered out the beginning of an apology for not having +introduced herself earlier. But the older woman waved this aside. + +"What I really want to know," she went on, "if it isn't too outrageous a +question, is what on earth you're doing it for--working in that law office, +I mean?" + +It was a question Betty was well accustomed to answering. But coming from +this source, it surprised her into a speechless stare. + +"Why," she said at last, "I do it because I believe in economic +independence for women. Don't you? But of course you do." + +"I don't know," said E. Eliot. "I believe in food and clothes, and money to +pay the rent, and the only way I have ever found of having those things was +to get out and earn them. But if ever I make money enough to give me an +independent income half the size of what yours must be, I'll retire from +business in short order." + +"Do you know," said Betty, "I don't believe you would. I think you're +mistaken. I don't believe a woman like you could live without working." + +"I didn't say I'd quit working," said E. Eliot. "I said I'd quit business. +That's another thing. There's plenty of real work in the world that won't +earn you a living. Lord! Don't I see it going by right here in this office! +There are things I just itch to get my hands into, and I have to wait and +tell myself 'some day, perhaps!' There's a thing I'd like to do now, and +that's to take a hand in this political campaign for district attorney. It +would kill my business deader than Pharaoh's aunt, so I've got to let it +go. But it would certainly put your friend George Remington up a tall +tree." + +"Oh, you're a suffragist, then?" Betty exclaimed eagerly. "I was wondering +about that. I've never seen you at any of our meetings." + +"I'm a suffragist, all right," said E. Eliot, "but as your meetings are +mostly held in the afternoons, when I'm pretty busy, I haven't been able to +get 'round. + +"I'm curious about Remington," she went on. "I've known him a little, +for years. When I worked for Allen, I used to see him quite often in the +office. And I'd always rather liked him. So that I was surprised, clear +down to the ground, when I read that statement of his in the _Sentinel_. +I'd never thought he was _that_ sort. And from the fact that you work in +his office and like him well enough to call him George one might almost +suppose he wasn't." + +Clearly Betty was puzzled. "Of course," she said, "I think his views about +women are obsolete and ridiculous. But I don't see what they've got to do +with liking him or not, personally." + +E. Eliot's smile became grim again, but she said nothing, so Betty asked a +direct question. + +"That was what you meant, wasn't it?" + +"Yes," the other woman said, "that was what I meant. Why, if you don't mind +plain speaking, it's been my observation that the sort of men who think the +world is too indecent for decent women to go out into, generally have their +own reasons for knowing how indecent it is; and that when they spring +a line of talk like that, they're being sickening hypocrites into the +bargain." + +Betty's face had gone flame color. + +"George isn't like that at all," she said. "He's--he's really fine. He's +old-fashioned and sentimental about women, but he isn't a hypocrite. He +really means those things he says. Why ..." + +And then Betty went on to tell her new friend about Cousin Emelene and Alys +Brewster-Smith, and how George, though he writhed, had stood the gaff. + +"A grown-up man," E. Eliot summed up, "who honestly believes that women are +made of something fine and fragile, and that they ought to be kept where +even the wind can't blow upon them! But good heavens, child, if he really +means that, it makes it all the better for what I was thinking of. You +don't understand, of course. I hadn't meant to tell you, but I've changed +my mind. + +"Listen now. That statement in the _Sentinel_ has set the town talking, of +course, and stirred up a lot of feeling, for and against suffrage. But what +it would be worth as an issue to go to the mat with on election day, is +exactly nothing at all. You go out and ask a voter to vote against a +candidate for district attorney because he's an anti-suffragist, and he'll +say, 'What difference does it make? It isn't up to him to give women the +vote. It doesn't matter to me what his private opinions are, as long as he +makes a good district attorney!' But there is an issue that we _can_ go to +the mat with, and so far it hasn't been raised at all. There hasn't been a +peep." She reached over and laid a hand on Betty's arm. + +"Do you know what the fire protection laws for factories are? And do you +know that it's against the law for women to work in factories at night? +Well, and do you know what the conditions are in every big mill in this +town? With this boom in war orders, they've simply taken off the lid. +Anything goes. The fire and building ordinances are disregarded, and for +six months the mills have been running a night shift as well as a day +shift, on Sundays and week-days, and three-quarters of their operatives are +women. Those women go to work at seven o'clock at night, and quit at six in +the morning; and they have an hour off from twelve to one in the middle of +the night. + +"Now do you see? It's up to the district attorney to enforce the law. Isn't +it fair to ask this defender of the home whether he believes that women +should be home at night or not, and if he does, what he's going to do about +it? Talk about slogans! The situation bristles with them! We could placard +this town with a lot of big black-faced questions that would make it the +hottest place for George Remington that he ever found himself in. + +"Well, it would be pretty good campaign work if he was the hypocrite I took +him to be, from his stuff in the _Sentinel_. But if he's on the level, as +you think he is, there's a chance--don't you see there's a chance that he'd +come out flat-footed for the enforcement of the law? And if he did!... +Child, can you see what would happen if he _did_?" + +Betty's eyes were shining like a pair of big sapphires. When she spoke, it +was in a whisper like an excited child. + +"I can see a little," she said. "I think I can see. But tell me." + +"In the first place," said E. Eliot, "see whom he'd have against him. +There'd be the best people, to start with. Most of them are stockholders in +the mills. Why, you must be, yourself, in the Jaffry-Bradshaw Company! Your +father was, anyway." + +Betty nodded. + +"You want to be sure you know what it means," the older woman went on. +"This thing might cut into your dividends, if it went through." + +"I hope it will," said Betty fiercely. "I never realized before that my +money was earned like that--by women, girls of my age, standing over a +machine all night." She shivered. "And there are some of us, I'm sure," she +went on, "who would feel the way I do about it." + +"Well,--some," E. Eliot admitted. "Not many, though. And then there are the +merchants. These are great times for them--town crammed with people, all +making money, and buying right and left. And then there's the labor vote +itself! A lot of laboring men would be against him. Their women just now +are earning as much as they are. There are a lot of these men--whatever +they might say--who'd take good care not to vote for a man who would +prevent their daughters from bringing in the fifteen, twenty, or +twenty-five dollars a week they get for that night work. + +"Well, and who would be with him? Why, the women themselves. The one chance +on earth he'd have for election would be to have the women organized and +working for him, bringing every ounce of influence they had to bear on +their men--on all the men they knew. + +"Mind you, I don't believe he could win at that. But, win or lose, he'd +have done something. He'd have shown the women that they needed the vote, +and he'd have found out for himself--he and the other men who believe in +fair human treatment for everybody--that they can't secure that treatment +without women's votes. That's the real issue. It isn't that women are +better than men, or that they could run the world better if they got the +chance. It's that men and women have got to work together to do the things +that need doing." + +"You're perfectly wonderful," said Betty, and sat thereafter, for perhaps a +minute and a half, in an entranced silence. + +Then, with a shake of the head, a straightening of the spine, and a good, +deep, business-like preliminary breath, she turned to her new friend and +said, "Well, shall we do it?" + +This time it was E. Eliot's turn to gasp. + +She hadn't expected to have a course of action put up to her in that +instantaneous and almost casual manner. She wasn't young like Betty. She'd +been working hard ever since she was seventeen years old. She'd succeeded, +in a way, to be sure. But her success had taught her how hard success is to +obtain. She saw much farther into the consequences of the proposed campaign +than Betty could see. She realized the bitter animosity that it would +provoke. She knew it was well within the probabilities that her business +would be ruined by it. + +She sat there silent for a while, her face getting grimmer and grimmer all +the time. But she turned at last and looked into the eager face of the girl +beside her, and she smiled,--though even the smile was grim. + +"All right," she said, holding out her hand to bind the bargain. "We'll +start and we'll stick. And here's hoping! We'd better lunch together, +hadn't we?" + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +BY ANNE O'HAGAN + + +Mr. Benjamin Doolittle, by profession White-water's leading furniture +dealer and funeral director, and by the accident of political fortune the +manager of Mr. George Remington's campaign, sat in his candidate's private +office, and from time to time restrained himself from hasty speech by the +diplomatic and dexterous use of a quid of tobacco. + +He found it difficult to preserve his philosophy in the face of George +Remington's agitation over the woman's suffrage issue. + +"It's the last time," he had frequently informed his political cronies +since the opening of the campaign, "that I'll wet-nurse a new-fledged +candidate. They've got at least to have their milk teeth through if they +want Benjamin Doolittle after this." To George, itchingly aware through all +his rasped nerves of Mrs. Herrington's letter in that morning's _Sentinel_ +asking him to refute, if he could, an abominable half column of statistics +in regard to legislation in the Woman Suffrage States, the furniture dealer +was drawling pacifically: + +"Now, George, you made a mistake in letting the women get your goat. Don't +pay no attention to them. Of course their game's fair enough. I will say +that you gave them their opening; stood yourself for a target with that +statement of yours. Howsomever, you ain't obligated to keep on acting as +the nigger head in the shooting gallery. + +"Let 'em write; let 'em ask questions in the papers; let 'em heckle you +on the stump. All that you've got to say is that you've expressed your +personal convictions already, and that you've stood by those convictions in +your private life, and that as you ain't up for legislator, the question +don't really concern your candidacy. And that, as you're running for +district attorney, you will, with their kind permission, proceed to the +subjects that do concern you there--the condition of the court calendar of +Whitewater County, the prosecution of the racetrack gamblers out at Erie +Oval, and so forth, and so forth. + +"You laid yourself open, George, but you ain't obligated in law or equity +to keep on presenting yourself bare chest for their outrageous slings and +arrows." + +"Of course, what you say about their total irrelevancy is quite true," said +George, making the concession so that it had all the belligerency of a +challenge. "But of course I would never have consented to run for office at +the price of muzzling my convictions." + +Mr. Doolittle wearily agreed that that was more than could be expected from +any candidate of the high moral worth of George Remington. Then he went +over a list of places throughout the county where George was to speak +during the next week, and intimated dolefully that the committee could use +a little more money, if it had it. + +He expressed it thus: "A few more contributions wouldn't put any strain to +speak of on our pants' pockets. Anything more to be got out of Old Martin +Jaffry? Don't he realize that blood's thicker than water?" + +"I'll speak to him," growled George. + +He hated Mr. Benjamin Doolittle's colloquialisms, though once he had +declared them amusing, racy, of the soil, and had rebuked Genevieve's +fastidious criticisms of them on an occasion when she had interpreted her +role of helpmeet to include that of hostess to Mr. and Mrs. Doolittle--oh, +not in her own home, of course!--at luncheon, at the Country Club! + +"Well, I guess that's about all for today." + +Mr. Doolittle brought the conference to a close, hoisting himself by links +from his chair. + +"It takes $3000 every time you circularize the constituency, you know----" + +He lounged toward the window and looked out again upon the pleasant, mellow +scene around Fountain Square. And with the look his affectation of bucolic +calm dropped from him. He turned abruptly. + +"What's that going on at McMonigal's corner?" he demanded sharply. "I don't +know, I am sure," said George, with indifference, still bent upon teaching +his manager that he was a free and independent citizen, in leading strings +to no man. "It's been vacant since the fire in March, when Petrosini's fish +market and Miss Letterblair's hat st----" + +He had reached the window himself by this time, and the sentence was +destined to remain forever unfinished. + +From the low, old-fashioned brick building on the northeast corner of +Fountain Square, whose boarded eyes had stared blindly across toward the +glittering orbs of its towering neighbor, the Jaffry Building, for six +months, a series of great placards flared. + +Planks had been removed from the windows, plate glass restored, and behind +it he read in damnable irritation: + +"SOME QUESTIONS FOR CANDIDATE REMINGTON." + +A foot high, an inch broad, black as Erebus, the letters shouted at him +against an orange background. Every window of the second story contained a +placard. On the first story, in the show window where Petrosini had been +wont to ravish epicurean eyes by shad and red snapper, perch and trout, +cunningly imbedded in ice blocks upon a marble slab--in that window, framed +now in the hated orange and black, stood a woman. + +She was turning backward, for the benefit of onlookers who pressed close to +the glass, the leaves of a mammoth pad resting upon an easel. + +From their point of vantage in the second story of the Jaffry Building, +the candidate and his manager could see that each sheet bore that horrid +headline: + +"QUESTIONS FOR CANDIDATE REMINGTON." + +The whole population of White water, it seemed to George, was crowded about +that corner. + +"I'll be back in a minute," said Benjie Doolittle, disappearing through +the private office door with the black tails of his coat achieving a true +horizontal behind him. As statesman and as undertaker, Mr. Doolittle never +swerved from the garment which keeps green the memory of the late Prince +Consort. + +As the door opened, the much-tried George Remington had a glimpse of that +pleasing industrial unit, Betty Sheridan, searching through the file for +the copy of the letter to the Cummunipaw Steel Works, which he had recently +demanded to see. He pressed the buzzer imperiously, and Betty responded +with duteous haste. He pointed through the window to the crowd in front of +McMonigal's block. + +"Perhaps," he said, with what seemed to him Spartan self-restraint, "_you_ +can explain the meaning of that scene." + +Betty looked out with an air of intelligent interest. + +"Oh yes!" she said vivaciously. "I think I can. It's a Voiceless Speech." + +"A voice l--" George's own face was a voiceless speech as he repeated two +syllables of his stenographer's explanation. + +"Yes. Don't you know about voiceless speeches? It's antiquated to try to +run any sort of a campaign without them nowadays." + +"Perhaps you also know who that--female--" again George's power of +utterance failed him. Betty came closer to the window and peered out. + +"It's Frances Herrington who is turning the leaves now," she said amiably. +"I know her by that ducky toque." + +"Frances Herrington! What Harvey Herrington is thinking of to allow----" +George's emotion constrained him to broken utterance. "And we're dining +there tonight! She has no sense of the decencies--the--the--the hospitality +of existence. We won't go--I'll telephone Genevieve----" + +"Fie, fie Georgie!" observed Betty. "Why be personal over a mere detail of +a political campaign?" + +But before George could tell her why his indignation against his +prospective hostess was impersonal and unemotional, the long figure of Mr. +Doolittle again projected itself upon the scene. + +Betty effaced herself, gliding from the inner office, and George turned +a look of inquiry upon his manager. + +"Well?" the monosyllable had all the force of profanity. + +"Well, the women, durn them, have brought suffrage into your campaign." + +"How?" + +"How? They've got a list of every blamed law on the statute books relating +to women and children, and they're asking on that sheet of leaves over +there, if you mean to proceed against all who are breaking those laws here +in Whitewater County. And right opposite your own office! It's--it's damn +smart. You ought to have got that Herrington woman on your committee." + +"It's indelicate, unwomanly, indecent. It shows into what unsexed +degradation politics will drag woman. But I'm relieved that that's all +they're asking. Of course, I shall enforce the law for the protection of +every class in our community with all the power of the----" + +"Oh, shucks! There's nobody here but me--you needn't unfurl Old Glory," +counseled Mr. Doolittle, a trifle impatiently. "They're asking real +questions, not blowing off hot-air. Oh, I say, who owns McMonigal's block +since the old man died? We'll have the owner stop this circus. That's the +first thing to do." + +"I'll telephone Allen. He'll know." + +Allen's office was very obliging and would report on the ownership on +McMonigal's block in ten minutes. + +Mr. Doolittle employed the interval in repeating to George some of the +"Questions for Candidate Remington," illegible from George's desk. + +"You believe that 'WOMAN'S PLACE IS IN THE HOME.' Will you enforce the law +against woman's night work in the factories? Over nine hundred women of +Whitewater County are doing night work in the munition plants of Airport, +Whitewater and Ondegonk. What do you mean to do about it?" + +"You 'DESIRE TO CONSERVE THE THREATENED FLOWER OF WOMANHOOD.'" + +A critical listener would have caught a note of ribald scorn in Mr. +Doolittle's drawl, as he quoted from his candidate's statement, via the +voiceless speech placards. + +"To conserve the threatened flower of womanhood, the grape canneries of +Omega and Onicrom Townships are employing children of five and six years +in defiance of the Child Labor Law of this State. Are you going to proceed +against them?" + +"'WOMAN IS MAN'S RAREST HERITAGE.' Do you think man ought to burn her +alive? Remember the Livingston Loomis-Ladd collar factory fire--fourteen +women killed, forty-eight maimed. In how many of the factories in +Whitewater, in which women work, are the fire laws obeyed? Do you mean to +enforce them?" + +The telephone interrupted Mr. Doolittle's hateful litany. + +Alien's bright young man begged to report that McMonigal's block was held +in fee simple by the widow of the late Michael McMonigal. + +Mr. Doolittle juggled the leaves of the telephone directory with the +dazzling swiftness of a Japanese ball thrower, and in a few seconds he was +speaking to the relict of the late Michael. + +George watched him with fevered eyes, listened with fevered ears. The +conversation, it was easy to gather, did not proceed as Mr. Doolittle +wished. + +"Oh! in entire charge--E. Eliot. Oh! In sympathy yourself. Oh, come now, +Mrs. McMonigal----" + +But Mrs. McMonigal did not come now. The campaign manager frowned as he +replaced the receiver. + +"Widow owns the place. That Eliot woman is the agent. The suffrage gang has +the owner's permission to use the building from now on to election. She +says she's in sympathy. Well, we'll have to think of something----" + +"It's easy enough," declared George. "I'll simply have a set of posters +printed answering their questions. And we'll engage sandwich men to carry +them in front of McMonigal's windows. Certainly I mean to enforce the law. +I'll give the order to the _Sentinel_ press now for the answers--definite, +dignified answers." "See here, George." Mr. Doolittle interrupted him with +unusual weightiness of manner. "It's too far along in the campaign for you +to go flying off on your own. You've got to consult your managers. This is +your first campaign; it's my thirty-first. You've got to take advice----" + +"I will not be muzzled." + +"Shucks! Who wants to muzzle, anybody! But you can't say everything that's +inside of you, can you? There's got to be some choosing. We've got to help +you choose. + +"The silly questions the women are displaying over there--you can't answer +'em in a word or in two words. This city is having a boom; every valve +factory in the valley, every needle and pin factory, is makin' munitions +today--valves and needles and pins all gone by the board for the time +being. Money's never been so plenty in Whitewater County and this city +is feelin' the benefits of it. People are buying things--clothes, flour, +furniture, victrolas, automobiles, rum. + +"There ain't a merchant of any description in this county but his business +is booming on account of the work in the factories. You can't antagonize +the whole population of the place. Why, I dare say, some of your own money +and Mrs. Remington's is earning three times what it was two years ago. The +First National Bank has just declared a fifteen per cent. dividend, and +Martin Jaffry owns fifty-four per cent. of the stock. + +"You don't want to put brakes on prosperity. It ain't decent citizenship to +try it. It ain't neighborly. Think of the lean years we've known. You can't +do it. This war won't last forever--" Mr. Doolittle's voice was tinged with +regret--"and it will be time enough to go in for playing the deuce with +business when business gets slack again. That's the time for reforms, +George,--when things are dull." + +George was silent, the very presentment of a sorely harassed young man. He +had not, even in a year when blamelessness rather than experience was his +party's supreme need in a candidate, become its banner bearer without +possessing certain political apperceptions. He knew, as Benjie Doolittle +spoke, that Benjie spoke the truth--White-water city and county would +never elect a man who had too convincingly promised to interfere with the +prosperity of the city and county. + +"Better stick to the gambling out at Erie Oval, George," counseled the +campaign manager. "They're mostly New Yorkers that are interested in that, +anyway." + +"I'll not reply without due consideration and--er--notice," George sullenly +acceded to his manager and to necessity. But he hated both Doolittle and +necessity at the moment. + +That sun-bright vision of himself which so splendidly and sustainingly +companioned him, which spoke in his most sonorous periods, which so +completely and satisfyingly commanded the reverence of Genevieve--that +George Remington of his brave imaginings would not thus have answered +Benjamin Doolittle. + +Through the silence following the furniture man's departure, Betty, at +the typewriter, clicked upon Georgie's ears. An evil impulse assailed +him--impolitic, too, as he realized--impolitic but irresistible. It was +the easiest way in which candidate Remington, heckled by suffragists, +overridden by his campaign committee, mortifyingly tormented by a feeling +of inadequacy, could re-establish himself in his own esteem as a man of +prompt and righteous decisions. + +He might not be able to run his campaign to suit himself, but, by Jove, his +office was his own! + +He went into Betty's quarters and suggested to her that a due sense of the +eternal fitness of things would cause her to offer him her resignation, +which his own sense of the eternal fitness of things would lead him at once +to accept. + +It seemed, he said, highly indecorous of her to remain in the employ of +Remington and Evans the while she was busily engaged in trying to thwart +the ambitions of the senior partner. He marveled that woman's boasted +sensitiveness had not already led her to perceive this for herself. + +For a second, Betty seemed startled, even hurt. She colored deeply and her +eyes darkened. Then the flush of surprise and the wounded feeling died. She +looked at him blankly and asked how soon it would be possible for him to +replace her. She would leave as soon as he desired. + +In her bearing, so much quieter than usual, in the look in her face, George +read a whole volume. He read that up to this time, Betty had regarded her +presence in the ranks of his political enemies as she would have regarded +being opposed to him in a tennis match. He read that he, with that biting +little speech which he already wished unspoken, had given her a sudden, +sinister illumination upon the relations of working women to their +employers. + +He read the question in the back of her mind. Suppose (so it ran in his +constructive fancy) that instead of being a prosperous, protected young +woman playing the wage-earner more or less as Marie Antoinette had played +the milkmaid, she had been Mamie Riley across the hall, whose work was +bitter earnest, whose earnings were not pin-money, but bread and meat and +brother's schooling and mother's health--would George still have made the +stifling of her views the price of her position? + +And if George--George, the kind, friendly, clean-minded man would drive +that bargain, what bargain might not other men, less gentle, less +noble, drive? + +All this George's unhappily sensitized conscience read into Betty +Sheridan's look, even as the imp who urged him on bade him tell her that +she could leave at her own convenience; at once, if she pleased; the supply +of stenographers in Whitewater was adequately at demand. + +He rather wished that Penny Evans would come in; Penny would doubtless take +a high hand with him concerning the episode, and there was nothing which +George Remington would have welcomed like an antagonist of his own size and +sex. + +But Penny did not appear, and the afternoon passed draggingly for the +candidate for the district attorneyship. He tried to busy himself with the +affairs of his clients, but even when he could keep away from his windows +he was aware of the crowds in front of McMonigal's block, of Frances +Herrington, her "ducky" toque and her infernal voiceless speech. + +And when, for a second, he was able to forget these, he heard from the +outer office the unmistakable sounds of a desk being permanently +cleared of its present incumbent's belongings. + +After a while, Betty bade him a too courteous good-by, still with that +abominable new air of gravely readjusting her old impressions of him. And +then there was nothing to do but to go home and make ready for dinner at +the Herrington's, unless he could induce Genevieve to have an opportune +headache. + +Of course Betty had been right. Not upon his masculine shoulders should +there be laid the absurd burden of political chagrin strong enough to break +a social engagement. + +Genevieve was in her room. The library was given over to Alys +Brewster-Smith, Cousin Emelene Brand, two rusty callers and the tea things. +Before the drawing-room fire, Hanna slept in Maltese proprietorship. George +longed with passion to kick the cat. + +Genevieve, as he saw through the open door, sat by the window. She had, it +appeared, but recently come in. She still wore her hat and coat; she had +not even drawn off her gloves. And seeing her thus, absorbed in some +problem, George's sense of his wrongs grew greater. + +He had, he told himself, hurried home out of the jar and fret of a man's +day to find balm, to feel the cool fingers of peace pressed upon hot +eyelids, to drink strengthening draughts of refreshment from his wife's +unquestioning belief, from the completeness of her absorption in him. And +here she sat thinking of something else! + +Genevieve arose, a little startled as he snapped on the lights and grunted +out something which optimism might translate into an affectionate husbandly +greeting. She came dutifully forward and raised her face, still exquisite +and cool from the outer air, for her lord's home-coming kiss. That resolved +itself into a slovenly peck. + +"Been out?" asked George unnecessarily. He tried to quell the unreasonable +inclination to find her lacking in wifely devotion because she had been +out. + +"Yes. There was a meeting at the Woman's Forum this afternoon," she +answered. She was unpinning her hat before the pier glass, and in it +he could see the reflection of her eyes turned upon his image with a +questioning look. + +"The ladies seem to be having a busy day of it." + +He struggled not quite successfully to be facetious over the pretty, +negligible activities of his wife's sex. "What mighty theme engaged your +attention?" + +"That Miss Eliot--the real estate woman, you know--" George stiffened into +an attitude of close attention--"spoke about the conditions under which +women are working in the mills in this city and in the rest of the +county--" Genevieve averted her mirrored eyes from his mirrored face. She +moved toward her dressing-table. + +"Oh, she did! and is the Woman's Forum going to come to grips with the +industrial monster and bring in the millennium by the first of the year?" + +But George was painfully aware that light banter which fails to be +convincingly light is but a snarl. + +Genevieve colored slightly as she studied the condition of a pair of long +white gloves which she had taken from a drawer. + +"Of course the Woman's Forum is only for discussion," she said mildly. "It +doesn't initiate any action." Then she raised her eyes to his face and +George felt his universe reel about him. + +For his wife's beautiful eyes were turned upon him, not in limpid +adoration, not in perfect acceptance of all his views, unheard, unweighed; +but with a question in their blue depths. + +The horrid clairvoyance which harassment and self-distrust had given him +that afternoon enabled him, he thought, to translate that look. The Eliot +woman, in her speech before the Woman's Forum, had doubtless placed the +responsibility for the continuation of those factory conditions upon +the district attorney's office, had doubtless repeated those damn fool, +impractical questions which the suffragists were displaying in McMonigal's +windows. + +And Genevieve was asking them in her mind! Genevieve was questioning +him, his motives, his standards, his intentions! Genevieve was not +intellectually a charming mechanical doll who would always answer "yes" and +"no" as he pressed the strings, and maintain a comfortable vacuity when he +was not at hand to perform the kindly act. Genevieve was thinking on her +own account. What, he wondered angrily, as he dressed--for he could not +bring himself to ask her aid in escaping the Herringtons and, indeed, +was suddenly balky at the thought of the intimacies of a domestic +evening--_what_ was she thinking? She was not such an imbecile as to be +unaware how large a share of her comfortable fortune was invested in the +local industry. Why, her father had been head of the Livingston Loomis-Ladd +Collar Company, when that dreadful fire--! And she certainly knew that his +uncle, Martin Jaffry, was the chief stockholder in the Jaffry-Bradshaw +Company. + +What was the question in Genevieve's eyes? Was she asking if he were the +knight of those women who worked and sweated and burned, or of her and the +comfortable women of her class, of Alys Brewster-Smith with her little +cottages, of Cousin Emelene with her little stocks, of masquerading Betty +Sheridan whose sortie of independence was from the safe vantage-grounds of +entrenched privilege? + +And all that evening as he watched his wife across the crystal and the +roses of the Herrington table, trying to interpret the question that had +been in her eyes, trying to interpret her careful silence, he realized what +every husband sooner or later awakes to realize--that he had married a +stranger. + +He did not know her. He did not know what ambitions, what aspirations apart +from him, ruled the spirit behind that charming surface of flesh. + +Of course she was good, of course she was tender, of course she was +high-minded! But how wide-enveloping was the cloak of her goodness? How far +did her tenderness reach out? Was her high-mindedness of the practical or +impractical variety? + +From time to time, he caught her eyes in turn upon him, with that curious +little look of re-examination in their depths. She could look at him like +that! She could look at him as though appraisals were possible from a wife +to a husband! + +They avoided industrial Whitewater County as a topic when they left the +Herrington's. They talked with great animation and interest of the people +at the party. Arrived at home, George, pleading press of work, went down +into the library while Genevieve went to bed. Carefully they postponed +the moment of making articulate all that, remaining unspoken, might be +ignored. + +It was one o'clock and he had not moved a paper for an hour, when the +library door opened. + +Genevieve stood there. She had sometimes come before when he had worked at +night, to chide him for neglecting sleep, to bring bouillon or chocolate. +But tonight she did neither. + +She did not come far into the room, but standing near the door and looking +at him with a new expression--patient, tender, the everlasting eternal +look--she said: "I couldn't sleep, either. I came down to say something, +George. Don't interrupt me----" for he was coming toward her with sounds +of affectionate protest at her being out of bed. "Don't speak! I want to +say--whatever you do, whatever you decide--now--always--I love you. Even if +I don't agree, I love you." + +She turned and went swiftly away. + +George stood looking at the place where she had stood,--this strange, new +Genevieve, who, promising to love, reserved the right to judge. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +BY MARY HEATON VORSE + + +The high moods of night do not always survive the clear, cold light of day. +Indeed it requires the contribution of both man and wife to keep a high +mood in married life. + +Genevieve had gone in to make her profession of faith to her husband in a +mood which touched the high altitudes. She had gone without any conscious +expectation of anything from him in the way of response. She had vaguely +but confidingly expected him to live up to the moment. + +She had expected something beautiful, a lovely flower of the +spirit--comprehension, generosity. Living up to the demand of the moment +was George's forte. Indeed, there were those among his friends who felt +that there were moments when George lived up to things too brightly and +too beautifully. His Uncle Jaffry, for instance, had his openly skeptical +moments. But George even lived up to his uncle's skepticism. He accepted +his remarks with charming good humor. It was his pride that he could laugh +at himself. + +At the moment of Genevieve's touching speech he lived up to exactly +nothing. He didn't even smile. He only stared at her--a stare which said: + +"Now what the devil do you mean by that?" + +Genevieve had a flicker of bitter humor when she compared her moment of +sentiment to a toy balloon pulled down from the blue by an unsympathetic +hand. + +The next morning, while George was still shaving, the telephone rang. It +was Betty. + +"Can you have lunch with me at Thorne's, where we can talk?" she asked +Genevieve. "And give me a little time tomorrow afternoon?" + +"Why," Genevieve responded, "I thought you were a working girl." + +There was a perceptible pause before Betty replied. + +"Hasn't George told you?" "Told what?" Genevieve inquired. "George hasn't +told me anything." + +"I've left the office." + +"Left! For heaven's sake, why?" + +Betty's mind worked swiftly. + +"Better treat it as a joke," was her decision. There was no pause before +she answered. + +"Oh, trouble with the boss." + +"You'll get over it. You're always having trouble with Penny. + +"Oh," said Betty, "it's not with Penny this time." + +"Not with George?" + +"Yes, with George," Betty answered. "Did you think one couldn't quarrel +with the noblest of his sex? Well, one can." + +"Oh, Betty, I'm sorry." Genevieve's tone was slightly reproachful. + +"Well, I'm not," said Betty. "I like my present job better. It was a good +thing he fired me." + +"_Fired_ you! George fired _you_?" + +"Sure thing," responded Betty blithely. "I can't stand here talking all +day. What I want to know is, can I see you at lunch?" + +"Yes--why, yes, of course," said Genevieve, dazedly. Then she hung up the +receiver and stared into space. + +George, beautifully dressed, tall and handsome, now emerged from his room. +For once his adoring wife failed to notice that in appearance he rivaled +the sun god. She had one thing she wanted to know, and she wanted to know +it badly. It was, + +"Why did you fire Betty Sheridan?" + +She asked this in the insulting "point of the bayonet" tone which angry +equals use to one another the world over. + +Either question or tone would have been enough to have put George's already +sensitive nerves on edge. Both together were unbearable. It was, when you +came down to it, the most awkward question in the world. + +Why, indeed, had he fired Betty Sheridan? He hadn't really given himself an +account of the inward reasons yet. The episode had been too disturbing; and +it was George's characteristic to put off looking on unpleasant facts as +long as possible. Had he been really hard up, which he never had been, he +would undoubtedly have put away, unopened, the bills he couldn't pay. Life +was already presenting him with the bill of yesterday's ill humor, and +he was not yet ready to add up the amount. He hid himself now behind the +austerity of the offended husband. + +"My dear," he inquired in his turn, "don't you think that you had best +leave the details of my office to me?" + +He knew how lame this was, and how inadequate, before Genevieve replied. + +"Betty Sheridan is not a detail of your office. She's one of my best +friends, and I want to know why you fired her. I dare say she was +exasperating; but I can't see any reason why you should have done it. You +should have let her leave." + +It was Betty, with that lamentable lack of delicacy which George had +pointed out to her, who had not been ready to leave. + +"You will have to let me be the judge of what I should or should not have +done," said George. This piece of advice Genevieve ignored. + +"Why did you send her away?" she demanded. + +"I sent her away, if you want to know, for her insolence and her damned bad +taste. If you think--working in my office as she was--it's decent or proper +on her part to be active in a campaign that is against me----" + +"You mean because she's a suffragist? You sent her away for _that_! Why, +really, that's _tyranny_! It's like my sending away some one working for me +for her beliefs----" + +They stood staring at each other, not questioningly as they had yesterday, +but as enemies,--the greater enemies that they so loved each other. + +Because of that each word of unkindness was a doubled-edged sword. They +quarreled. It was the first time that they had seen each other without +illusion. They had been to each other the ideal, the lover, husband, wife. + +Now, in the dismay of his amazement in finding himself quarreling with +the perfect wife, a vagrant memory came to George that he had heard that +Genevieve had a hot temper. She certainly had. He didn't notice how +handsome she looked kindled with anger. He only knew that the rose garden +in which they lived was being destroyed by their angry hands; that the very +foundation of the life they had been leading was being undermined. + +The time of mirage and glamour was over. He had ceased being a hero and +an ideal, and why? Because, forgetting his past life, his record, his +achievement, Genevieve obstinately insisted on identifying him with one +single mistake. He was willing to concede it was a mistake. She had not +only identified him with it, but she had called him a number of wounding +things. + +"Tyrant" was the least of them, and, worse than that, she had, in a +very fury of temper, told him that he "needn't take that pompous"--yes, +"pompous" had been her unpleasant word--"tone" with her, when he had +inquired, more in sorrow than in anger, if this were really his Genevieve +speaking. + +There was a pause in their hostilities. They looked at each other aghast. +Aghast, they had perceived the same awful truth. Each saw that love +[Illustration: "You mean because she's a suffragist? You sent her away for +_that_? Why, really, that's _tyranny_!"] in the other's heart was dead, and +that things never could be the same again. So they stood looking down this +dark gulf, and the light of anger died. + +In a toneless voice: "We mustn't let Cousin Emelene and Alys hear us +quarreling," said George. And Genevieve answered, "They've gone down to +breakfast." + +The two ladies were seated at table. + +"We heard you two love birds cooing and billing, and thought we might +as well begin," said Alys Brewster-Smith. "Regularity is of the highest +importance in bringing up a child." + +Cousin Emelene was reading the _Sentinel._ George's quick eye glanced at +the headlines: + +_Candidate Remington Heckled by Suffragists. Ask Him Leading Questions._ + +"Why, dear me," she remarked, her kind eyes on George, "it's perfectly +awful, isn't it, that they break the laws that way just for a little more +money. But I don't see why they want to annoy dear George. They ought to be +glad they are going to get a district attorney who'll put all those +things straight. I think it's very silly of them to ask him, don't you, +Genevieve?" + +"Let me see," said Genevieve, taking the paper. + +"All he's got to do, anyway, is to answer," pursued Cousin Emelene. + +"Yes, that's all," replied Genevieve, her melancholy gaze on George. +Yesterday she would have had Emelene's childlike faith. But this stranger, +who, for a trivial and tyrannical reason, had sent away Betty--how would +_he_ act? + +"They showed these right opposite your windows?" she questioned. + +"Yes," he returned. "Our friend Mrs. Herrington did it herself. It was the +first course of our dinner. If you think that's good taste--" + +"I would expect it of her," said Alys Brewster-Smith. + +"But it makes it so easy for George," Emelene repeated. "They'll know now +what sort of a man he is. Little children at work, just to make a little +more money--it's awful!" + +"Talking about money, George," said Alys, "have you seen to my houses yet?" +"Not yet," replied the harassed George. "You'll have to excuse my going +into the reasons now. I'm late as it is." + +His voice had not the calm he would have wished for. As he took his +departure, he heard Alys saying, + +"If you'll let me, my dear, I'd adore helping you about the housekeeping. I +don't want to stay here and be a burden. If you'll just turn it over to me, +I could cut your housekeeping expenses in half." + +"Damn the women," was the unchivalrous thought that rose to George's lips. + +One would have supposed that trouble had followed closely enough on George +Remington's trail, but now he found it awaiting him in his office. + +Usually, Penny was the late one. It was this light-hearted young man's +custom to blow in with so engaging an expression and so cheerful a manner +that any comment on his unpunctuality was impossible. Today, instead of a +gay-hearted young man, he looked more like a sentencing judge. + +What he wanted to know was, + +"What have you done to Betty Sheridan? Do you mean to say that you had +the nerve to send her away, send her out of my office without consulting +me--and for a reason like that? How did you think I was going to feel about +it?" + +"I didn't think about you," said George. + +"You bet you didn't. You thought about number one and your precious vanity. +Why, if one were to separate you from your vanity, one couldn't see you +when you were going down the street. Go on, make a frock coat gesture! Play +the brilliant but outraged young district attorney. Do you know what it was +to do a thing of that kind--to fire a girl because she didn't agree with +you?" + +"It wasn't because she didn't agree with me," George interrupted, with +heat. + +"It was the act of a cad," Penny finished. "Look here, young man, I'm going +to tell you a few plain truths about yourself. You're not the sort of +person that you think you are. You've deceived yourself the way other +people are deceived about you--by your exterior. But inside of that +good-looking carcass of yours there's a brain composed of cheese. You +weren't only a cad to do it--you were a fool!" "You can't use that tone to +me!" cried George. + +"Oh, can't I just? By Jove, it's things like that that make one wake up. +Now I know why women have a passion for suffrage. I never knew before," +Penny went on, with more passion than logic. "You had a nerve to make that +statement of yours. You're a fine example of chivalry. You let loose a few +things when you wrote that fool statement, but you did a worse trick when +you fired Betty Sheridan. God, you're a pinhead--from the point of view of +mere tactics. Sometimes I wonder whether you've _any_ brain." + +George had turned white with anger. + +"That'll just about do," he remarked. + +"Oh, no, it won't," said Penny. "It won't do at all. I'm not going to +remain in a firm where things like this can happen. I wouldn't risk my +reputation and my future. You're going to do the decent thing. You're going +to Betty Sheridan and tell her what you think of yourself. She won't come +back, I suppose, but you might ask her to do that, too. And now I'm going +out, to give you time to think this over. And tonight you can tell me what +you've decided. And then I'll tell you whether I'm going to dissolve our +partnership. Your temper's too bad to decide now. Maybe when you've done +that she won't treat me like an unsavory stranger." + +He left, and George sat down to gloomy reflection. + +To do him justice, the idea of apologizing to Betty had already occurred to +him. If he put off the day of reckoning, when the time came he would pay +handsomely. He realized that there was no use in wasting energy and being +angry with Penny. He looked over the happenings of the last few hours and +the part he had played in them, and what he saw failed to please him. He +saw himself being advised by Doolittle to concentrate on the Erie Oval. +He heard him urging him not to be what Doolittle called unneighborly. The +confiding words of Cousin Emelene rang in his ears. + +He saw himself, in a fit of ill-temper, discharging Betty. He saw +Genevieve, lovely and scornful, urging him to be less pompous. All this, he +had to admit, he had brought on himself. Why should he have been so angry +at these questions? Again Emelene's remark echoed in his ear. He had only +to answer them--and he was going to concentrate on the Erie Oval! + +There came a knock on the door, and a breezy young woman demanded, + +"D'you want a stenographer?" + +George wanted a stenographer, and wanted one badly. He put from him the +whole vexed question in the press of work, and by lunch time he made up his +mind to have it out with Betty. There was no use putting it off, and he +knew that he could have no peace with himself until he did. He felt very +tired--as though he had been doing actual physical work. He thought of +yesterday as a land of lost content. But he couldn't find Betty. + +He bent his steps toward home, and as he did so affection for Genevieve +flooded his heart. He so wanted yesterday back--things as they had been. He +so wanted her love and her admiration. He wanted to put his tired head on +her shoulder. He couldn't bear, not for another moment, to be at odds with +her. + +He wondered what she had been doing, and how she had spent the morning. He +imagined her crying her heart out. He leaped up the steps and ran up to his +room. In it was Alys Brewster-Smith. She started slightly. + +"I was just looking for some cold cream," she explained. + +"Where's Genevieve?" George asked. + +"Oh, she's out," Alys replied casually. "She left a note for you." + +The note was a polite and noncommittal line informing George that Genevieve +would not be back for lunch. He felt as though a lump of ice replaced his +heart. His disappointment was the desperate disappointment of a small boy. + +He went back to the gloomy office and worked through the interminable day. +Late in the afternoon Mr. Doolittle lounged heavily in. + +"Have some gum, George?" he inquired, inserting a large piece in his own +mouth. + +He chewed rhythmically for a space. George waited. He knew that chewing gum +was not the ultimate object of Mr. Doolittle's visit. + +"Don't women beat the Dutch?" he inquired at last. "Yes sir, mister; they +do!" + +"What's up now?" George inquired. "The suffragists again?" + +"Nope; not on the face of it they ain't. It's the Woman's Forum that's +doin' this. They've got a sweet little idea. 'Seein' Whitewater Sweat' they +call it. + +"They're goin' around in bunches of twos, or mebbe blocks o' five, seein' +all the sights; an' you know women ain't reasonable, an' you can't reason +with them. They're goin' to find a pile o' things they won't like in this +little burg o' ours, all right, all right. An' they'll want to have things +changed right off. I want to see things changed m'self. I'd like to, but +them things take time, an' that's what women won't understand. + +"Jimminee, I've heard of towns all messed up and candidates ruined just +because the women got wrought up over tenement-house an' fire laws an' +truck like that. Yes sir, they're out seein' Whitewater this minut, or +will be if you can't divert their minds. Call 'em off, George, if you can. +Get 'em fussy about sumpen else." + +"Why, what have I to do with it?" George inquired. + +"Well, I didn't know but what you might have sumpen," said Mr. Doolittle +mildly. "It's that young lady that works here, Miss Sheridan, an' your wife +what's organizin' it. Planning it all out to Thorne's at lunch they was, +an' Heally was sittin' at the next table and beats it to me. You can see +for yerself what a hell of a mess they'll make!" + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +BY ALICE DUER MILLER + + +It was a relief to both men when at this point the door of the office +opened and Martin Jaffry entered. + +Not since the unfortunate anti-suffrage statement of George's had Uncle +Martin dropped in like this. George, looking at him with that first swift +glance that often predetermines a whole interview, made up his mind +that bygones were to be bygones. He greeted his uncle with the warmest +cordiality. + +"Well, George," said Uncle Martin, "how are things going?" + +"I'm going to be elected, if that's what you mean," answered George. + +Doolittle gave a snort. "Indeed, are ye?" said he. "As a friend and +well-wisher, I'm sure I'm delighted to hear the news." "Do I understand +that you have your doubts, Mr. Doolittle?" Jaffry inquired mildly. + +"There's two things we need and need badly, Mr. Jaffry," said Doolittle. +"One's money--" + +"A small campaign contribution would not be rejected?" + +"But there's something we need more than money--and God knows I never +expected to say them words--and that's common sense." + +"Good," said Uncle Martin, "I have plenty of that, too!" + +"Then for the love of Mike pass some of it on to this precious nephew of +yours." + +"What seems to be the matter?" + +"It's them women," said Doolittle. + +Uncle Martin turned inquiringly to George: "The tender flowers?" he +suggested. + +"Look here, Uncle Martin," said George, who had had a good deal of this +sort of thing to bear, "I don't understand you. Do you believe in woman +suffrage?" + +Uncle Martin contemplated a new crumpling of his long-suffering cap before +he answered. "Yes and no, George. I believe in it in the same way that +I believe in old age and death. I can't avoid them by denying their +existence." + +"But you fight against them, and put them off as long as you can." + +"But I yield a little to them, too, George. What is it? Has Genevieve +become a convert to suffrage?" + +"Has Genevieve--has my wife----" + +Then George remembered that his uncle was an older man and that chivalry is +not limited to the treatment of the weaker sex. + +"No," he said with a calm hardly less magnificent than the tempest would +have been, "no, Uncle Martin, Genevieve has not become a suffragist." + +"Well," said Doolittle rising, as if such things were hardly worth his +valuable time, "I fail to see the difference between a suffragette an' a +woman who goes pokin' her nose into what----" + +"You're speaking of my wife, Mr. Doolittle," said George, with a +significant lighting of the eye. + +"Speakin' in general," said Doolittle. + +Uncle Martin was interested. "Has Genevieve been--well, we won't say poking +the nose--but taking a responsible civic interest where it would be better +if she didn't?" + +"It seems," answered George, casting an angry glance at his campaign +manager, "that Mr. Doolittle has heard from a friend of his who overheard a +conversation between Betty Sheridan and my wife at luncheon. From this he +inferred that the two were planning an investigation of some of the city's +problems." + +Uncle Martin looked relieved. + +"Oh, your wife and your stenographer. That can be stopped, I suppose, +without undue exertion." + +"Betty is no longer my stenographer." + +"Left, has she?" said Jaffry. "I had an idea she would not stay with you +long." + +This intimation was not agreeable to George. He would have liked to explain +that Miss Sheridan's departure had been dictated by the will of the head of +the firm; in fact he opened his mouth to do so. But the remembrance that +this would entail a long and wearisome exposition of his reasons caused +him to remain silent, and his uncle went on: "Well, anyhow, you can get +Genevieve to drop it." + +If Doolittle had not been there, George would have been glad to discuss +with his uncle, who had, after all, a sort of worldly shrewdness, how far a +man is justified in controlling his wife's opinions. But before an audience +now a trifle unsympathetic, he could not resist the temptation of making +the gesture of a man magnificently master in his own house. + +He smiled quite grandly. "I think I can promise that," he said. + +Doolittle got up slowly, bringing his jaws together in a relentless bite on +the unresisting gum. + +"Well," he said, "that's all there is to it." And he added significantly as +he reached the door, "If you kin _do_ it!" + +When the campaign manager had gone, Uncle Martin asked very, very gently: +"You don't feel any doubt of being able to do it, do you, George?" + +"About my ability to control--I mean influence, my wife? I feel no doubt at +all." + +"And Penfield, I suppose, can tackle Betty? You won't mind my saying that +of the two I think your partner has the harder job." + +A slight cloud appeared upon the brow of the candidate. + +"I don't feel inclined to ask any favor of Penny just at present," he said +haughtily. "Has it ever struck you, Uncle Martin, that Penny has an unduly +emotional, an almost feminine type of mind?" + +"No," said the other, "it hasn't, but that is perhaps because I have never +been sure just what the feminine type of mind is." + +"You know what I mean," answered George, trying to conceal his annoyance at +this sort of petty quibbling. "I mean he is too personal, over-excitable, +irrational and very hard to deal with." + +"Dear me," said Jaffry. "Is Genevieve like that?" + +"Genevieve," replied her husband loyally, "is much better poised than most +women, but--yes,--even she--all women are more or less like that." + +"All women and Penny. Well, George, you have my sympathy. An excitable +partner, an irrational stenographer, and a wife that's very hard to +deal with!" + +"I never said Genevieve was hard to deal with," George almost shouted. + +"My mistake--thought you did," answered his uncle, now moving rapidly away. +"Let me know the result of the interview, and we'll talk over ways and +means." And he shut the door briskly behind him. + +George walked to the window, with his hands in his pockets. He always liked +to look out while he turned over grave questions in his mind; but this +comfort was now denied to him, for he could not help being distracted by +the voiceless speech still relentlessly turning its pages in the opposite +window. + +The heading now was: + +DOES THE FIFTY-FOUR-HOUR-A-WEEK LAW APPLY TO FLOWERS? + +He flung himself down on his chair with an exclamation. He knew he had to +think carefully about something which he had never considered before, and +that was his wife's character. + +Of course he liked to think about Genevieve--; of her beauty, her +abilities, her charms; and particularly he liked to think about her love +for him. + +A week ago he would have met the present situation very simply. He would +have put his arm about her and said: "My darling, I think I'd a little +rather you dropped this sort of thing for the present." And that would have +been enough. + +But he knew it would not be enough now. He would have to have a reason, a +case. + +"Heavens," he thought, "imagine having to talk to one's wife as if she were +the lawyer for the other side." + +He did not notice that he was reproaching Genevieve for being too +impersonal, too unemotional and not irrational enough. + +When he went home at five, he had thought it out. He put his head into the +sitting-room, where Alys was ensconced behind the tea-kettle. + +"Come in, George dear," she called graciously, "and let me give you a +really good cup of tea. It's some I've just ordered for you, and I think +you'll find it an improvement on what you've been accustomed to." George +shut the door again, pretending he had not heard; but he had had time +enough to note that dear little Eleanor was building houses out of his most +treasured books. + +The memory of his quarrel with his wife had been partly obliterated by +memories of so many other quarrels during the day that it was only when he +was actually standing in her room that he remembered how very bitter their +parting had been. + +He stood looking at her doubtfully, and it was she who came forward and put +her arms about him. They clung to each other like two children who have +been frightened by a nightmare. + +"We mustn't quarrel again, George," she said. "I've had a real, true, +old-fashioned pain in my heart all day. But I think I understand better now +than I did. I lunched with Betty and she made me see." + +"What did Betty make you see?" asked George nervously, for he had not +perfect confidence in Miss Sheridan's visions. + +"That it was all a question of efficiency. She said that in business a +man's stenographer is just an instrument to make his work easier, and if +for any reason at all that instrument does not suit him he is justified in +getting rid of it, and in finding one that does." + +"Betty is very generous," he said coldly. He wanted to hear his wife say +that she had not thought him pompous; it was very hard to be thankful for a +mere ethical rehabilitation. + +Part of his thought-out plan was that Genevieve must herself tell him of +the Woman's Forum's investigation; it would not do for him to let her know +he had heard of it through a political eavesdropper. So after a moment he +added casually: + +"And what else did Betty have to say?" + +"Nothing much." + +His heart sank. Was Genevieve becoming uncandid? + +"Nothing else," he said. "Just to justify me in your eyes?" + +She hesitated, "No, that was not quite all, but it is too early to talk +about it yet." + +"Anything that interests you, my dear, I should like to hear about from the +beginning." Perhaps Genevieve was not so unemotional after all, for at this +expression of his affection, her eyes filled with tears. + +"I long to tell you," she said. "I only hesitated on your account, but of +course I want all your help and advice. It's this: There seems to be no +doubt that the conditions under which women are working in our factories +are hideous--dangerous--the law is broken with perfect impunity. I know you +can't act on rumors and hearsay. Even the inspectors don't give out the +truth. And so we are going to persuade the Woman's Forum to abandon its old +policy of mere discussion. + +"We--Betty and I--are going to get the members for once to act--to make an +investigation; so that the instant you come into the office you will have +complete information at your disposal--facts, and facts and facts on which +you can act." + +She paused and looked eagerly at her husband, who remained silent. Seeing +this she went on: + +"I know what you're thinking. I thought of it myself. Am I justified in +using my position in the Woman's Forum to further your political career? +Well, my answer is, it isn't your political career, only; it's truth and +justice that will be furthered." + +Here in the home there was no voiceless speech to make the view +intolerable, and George moved away from his wife and walked to the window. +He looked out on his own peaceful trees and lawn, and on Hanna, like a +tiger in the jungle, stalking a competent little sparrow. + +A temptation was assailing George. Suppose he did put his opposition to +this investigation on a high and mighty ground? Suppose he announced a +moral scruple? But no, he cast Satan behind him. + +"Genevieve," he said, turning sharply toward her, "this question puts our +whole attitude to a test. If you and I are two separate individuals, with +different responsibilities, different interests, different opinions, then +we ought to be consistent; that ought to mean economic independence of +each other, and equal suffrage; it means that husband and wife may become +business competitors and political opponents. + +"But if, as you know I believe, a man and woman who love each other are +one, are a unit as far as society is concerned, why then our interests are +identical, and it is simply a question of which of us two is better able to +deal with any particular situation." + +"But that is what I believe, too, George." + +"I hoped it was, dear; I know it used to be. Then you must let me act for +you in this matter." + +"Yes, in the end; but an investigation--" + +"My darling, politics is not an ideal; it is a practical human institution. +Just at present, from the political point of view, such an investigation +would do me incalculable harm." + +"George!" + +He nodded. "It would probably lose me the election." + +"But why?" + +"Genevieve, am I your political representative or not?" + +"You are," she smiled at him, "and my dear love as well; but may I not even +know why?" + +"If you dismissed the cook, and I summoned you before me and bade you give +me your reasons for such an action, would you not feel in your heart that I +was disputing your judgment?" + +She looked at him honestly. "Yes, I should." + +"And I would not do such a discourteous thing to you. In the home you are +absolute. Whatever you do, whatever you decide, is right. I would not dream +of questioning. Will you not give me the same confidence in my special +department?" + +There was a short pause; then Genevieve held out her hand. + +"Yes, George," she said, "I will, but on one condition----" + +"_I_ did not make conditions, Genevieve." + +"You do not have to, my dear. You know that I am really your representative +in the house; that I am really always thinking of your wishes. You must do +the same as my political representative. I mean, if I am not to do this +work myself, you must do it for me." + +"Even if I consider it unwise?" + +"Unwise to protect women and children?" + +"Genevieve," he said seriously, as one who confides something not +always confided to women, "enforcing law sometimes does harm." + +"But an investigation----" + +"That's where you are ignorant, my dear. If an investigation is made, +especially if the women mix themselves up in it, then we shall have no +choice but enforcement." + +She had sunk down on her sofa, but now she sprang up. "And you don't mean +to enforce the law" in respect of women? Is that why you don't want the +investigation?" + +"Not at all. You are most unjust. You are most illogical, Genevieve. All +I am asking is that the whole question should not be taken up at this +moment--just before election." + +"But this is the only moment when we can find out whether or not you are a +candidate who will do what we want." + +"_We_, Genevieve! Who do you mean by 'we'?" + +She stared for a second at him, her eyes growing large and dark with +astonishment. + +"Oh, George," she gasped finally, "I think I meant women when I said 'we.' +George, I'm afraid I'm a _suffragist_. And oh," she added, with a sort of +wail, "I don't want to be, I don't want to be!" + +"Damn Betty Sheridan," exclaimed George. "This is all her doing." + +His wife shook her head. "No," she said, "it wasn't Betty who made me see." + +"Who was it?" + +"It was you, George." + +"I don't understand you." + +"You made me see why women want to vote for themselves. How can you +represent me, when we disagree fundamentally?" + +"How can we disagree fundamentally when we love each other?" + +"You mean that because we love each other, I must think as you do?" + +"What else could I mean, darling?" + +"You might have meant that you would think as I do." + +George glanced at her in deep offense. + +"We have indeed drifted far apart," he said. + +At this moment there was a knock at the door, and the news was conveyed to +George that Mr. Evans was downstairs asking to see him. + +"Oh dear," said Genevieve, "it seems as if we never could get a moment by +ourselves nowadays. What does Penny want?" + +"He wants to tell me whether he intends to dissolve partnership or not." + +Any fear that his wife had disassociated herself from his interests +should have been dispelled by the tone in which she exclaimed: "Dissolve +partnership! Penny? Well, I never in my life! Where would Penny be without +you, I should like to know! He must be crazy." + +These words made George feel happier than anything that had happened to him +throughout this day. His self-esteem began to revive. + +"I think Penny has been a little hasty," he said, judicially but not +unkindly. "He lost all self-control when he heard I had let Betty go." + +"Isn't that like a man," said Genevieve, "to throw away his whole future +just because he loses his temper?" + +George did not directly answer this question, and his wife went on. +"However, it will be all right. He has seen Betty this afternoon, and she +won't let him do anything foolish." + +George glanced at her. "You mean that Betty will prevent his leaving the +firm?" + +"Of course she will." + +George walked to the door. + +"I seem to owe a good deal to my former stenographer," he said, "my wife, +my partner; next, perhaps it will be my election." + + + + +CHAPTER X + +BY ETHEL WATTS MUMFORD + + +Penny, pacing the drawing-room with pantheresque strides, came to a tense +halt as Remington entered. + +"Well?" he said, his eyes hard, his unwelcoming hands thrust deep into his +pockets. + +That identical "well" with its uptilt of question had been on George's +tongue. It was a monosyllable that demanded an answer. Penny had got ahead +of him, forced him, as it were, into the witness chair, and he resented it. + +"Seems to me," he began hotly, "that you were the one who was going to +make the statements--' whether or no,' I believe, we were to continue in +partnership." + +"Perhaps," retorted Penny, with the air of allowing no great importance to +that angle of the argument, "but what I want to know is, _are_ you going to +be a square man, and own up you were peeved into being a tyrant? And when +you've done that, are you going to tell Betty, and apologize?" + +George hesitated, trapped between his irritation and the still small voice. + +"Look here," he said, with that amiable suavity that had won him many a +concession, "you know well enough I don't want to hurt Betty's feelings. If +she feels that way about it, of course I'll apologize." + +His partner looked at him in blank amazement. + +"Gad!" he exclaimed as if examining a particularly fine specimen of some +rare beetle, "what a bounder." + +"Meaning me?" snapped George. + +"Don't dare to quibble. Look me in the eye." + +There was a third degree fatality about the usually debonair Penny that +exacted obedience. George unwillingly looked him in the eye, and had a +ghastly feeling of having his suddenly realized smallness X-rayed. + +"You know damned well you acted like a cad," Penny continued, "and I want +to know, for all our sakes, if you're man enough to own it?" + +George's fundamental honesty mastered him. Anger died from his eyes. His +clenched hands relaxed and began an unconscious and nervous exploration for +a cigarette. + +"Since you put it that way," he said, "and it happens that my conscience +agrees with you--I'll go you. I _was_ a cad, and I'll tell Betty so. +Confound it!" he growled, "I don't know _what's_ come over me these days. +I've got to get a grip on myself." + +"You _bet_ you have," said Penny, hauling his fists from his trousers as if +with an effort. Then he grinned. "Betty said you would." + +George's eyes darkened. + +"And I'll tell you now," Penny went on, "since you've turned out at least +half-decent, Betty'll let you off that apology thing. _She_ wasn't the +one who was exacting it--not she. _I_ couldn't stand for your highfalutin +excuses for being--well, never mind--we all get our off days. But don't +you get off again like that if----" Penny hesitated. "If you want me for a +partner," which seemed the obvious conclusion, was tame. "If you want to +hang on to any one's respect," he finished. + +"Say, though," he murmured, "Betty'll give me 'what for' for drubbing you. +She actually took your side--said--oh, never mind--tried to make me think +of her just as if she was any old Mamie--the stenog--tried to prune out +personal feeling." + +"By Jove," he ruminated, "that girl's a corker!" + +He raised forgiving eyes from his contemplation of the rug. + +"Well, old man, blow me to a Scotch and soda, and I'll be going. Dinged if +it wouldn't have broken me all up to have busted with you, even if you are +a box of prunes. Shake." + +George shook, but he was far from happy. What he had gained in peace of +mind he had lost in self-conceit. His resentment against the pinch of +circumstance was deepening to cancerous vindictiveness. + +As Pennington left with a cheery good-by and a final half-cynical word of +advice "to get onto himself" George mounted the stairs slowly and came +face to face with Genevieve, obviously in wait for him. + +"What happened?" she inquired, with an anxious glance at his corrugated +brow. + +George did not feel in a mood to describe his retreat, if not defeat. + +"Oh, nothing. We had a highball. I think I made him--well--it's all right." + +"There, I knew Betty'd make him see reason," she smiled. "I'm awfully glad. +I've a real respect for Penny's judgment after all, you know." + +"Meaning, you have your doubts about mine." + +"No, meaning only just what I said--_just_ that. By the way, George, I wish +you'd take time to look into Alys' real estate. Somebody ought to, and if +you're really representing her----" + +"Oh, good heavens!" he exclaimed impatiently, angered by her swift +transition from his own to another's affairs. "I can't! I simply can't! +Haven't you any conception of how busy I am?" + +"I know, dear; I _do_ know. But something must be done. The Health +Department," she explained, "has sent in complaint after complaint, and +Miss Eliot simply won't handle the property unless she's allowed to spend +a lot setting things to rights. Alys says it's absurd; none of the other +property owners out there are doing anything, and _she_ won't. So, nobody's +looking after it, and somebody should." + +"Who told you all this?" he demanded. "Miss E. Eliot, I suppose." + +His wife nodded. "And she's right," she added. + +"Well, perhaps she is," he allowed. "I'll get Alien to act as her agent +again. He's in with all the politicians; he ought to be able to stall off +the department." + +The words slipped out before he realized their import, but at Genevieve's +wide stare of amazement he flushed crimson. "I mean--lots of these +complaints are really mere red tape; some self-important employee is trying +to look busy. A little investigation usually puts that straight." + +"Of course," she acquiesced, and he breathed a sigh of relief. "That +happens, too, but Miss Eliot says that the conditions out there are really +dreadful." + +"I'll talk to Allen," said George with an affectation of easy dismissal of +the subject; + +But Genevieve's mind appeared to have grown suddenly persistent. At dinner +she again brought up the subject, this time directing her troubled gaze and +troubling words at her guest. + +"Alys," she said abruptly, "I really think you ought to go out to +Kentwood--to see about your property out there, I mean." + +Mrs. Brewster-Smith looked up, rolling her large eyes in frank amazement. + +"Go out there? What for? It isn't the sort of a district a lady cares to be +seen in, I'm told; and, besides, George is looking after that for me. _He_ +understands such matters, and I frankly own _I_ don't. Business makes me +quite dizzy," she added with a flash of very white teeth. + +Genevieve hesitated, then went to the point. + +"But you must advise with your agent, Alys. The property is _yours_." + +Alys raised sharply penciled brows. "I have utter confidence in George," +she answered in a tone of finality that brought an adoring look from +Emelene, and her usual Boswellian echo: "Of _course_." + +George squirmed uneasily. Such a vote of confidence implied accepted +responsibility, and he acknowledged to himself that he wanted to and would +dodge the unwelcome burden. He turned a benign Jovian expression on Mrs. +Brewster-Smith and condescended to explain. + +"I have considered what is best for you, and I will myself see Allen and +request him to take your real-estate affairs in charge again. Neither +Sampson nor--er--Eliot is, I think, advisable for your best interests." + +At the mention of the last name Genevieve's expressive face stretched to +speak; then she closed her lips with self-controlled determination. Mrs. +Brewster-Smith looked at her host in scandalized amazement. + +"But I _told_ you," she almost whimpered, "that his wife is simply +impossible." + +George smiled tolerantly. "But his wife isn't doing the business. It's the +business, not the social interests, we have to consider. + +"Oh, but she is in the business," Alys explained. "I think it's because +she's jealous of him; she wants to be around the office and watch him." + +Genevieve interposed. "Mrs. Allen owns a lot of land herself, and she looks +after it. It seems quite natural to me." + +"But she _has_ a husband," Alys rebuked. + +"Yes," agreed Genevieve, "but she probably married him for a husband, not a +business agent." + +George felt the reins of the situation slipping from him, so he jerked the +curb of conversation. + +"We are beside the issue," he said in his most legal manner. "The fact is +that Allen knows more about the Kentwood district and the factory values +than any one else, and I feel it my duty to advise Alys to leave her +affairs in his hands. I'll see him for you in the morning." + +He turned to Alys with a return of tolerantly protective inflection in his +voice. + +Genevieve shrugged, a faint ghost of a shrug. Had George been less absorbed +in his own mental discomforts, he would have discovered there and then that +the matter of his speech, not the manner of his delivery, was what held his +wife's attention. No longer could rounded periods and eloquent sophistry +hide from her his thoughts and intentions. + +A telephone call interrupted the meal. He answered it with relief, bowing a +hurried, self-important excuse to the ladies. But the voice that came over +the wire was not modulated in tones of flattery. + +"Say," drawled the campaign manager, "you'd better get a hump on, and come +over here to headquarters. There's a couple of gents here who want a word +with you." + +The tone was ominous, and George stiffened. "Very well, I'll be right over. +But you can pretty well tell them where I stand on the main issues. Who's +at headquarters?" + +A snort of disgust greeted the inquiry. The snort told George that +seasoned campaigners did not use the telephone with such casual lack of +circumspection. The words were in like manner enlightening. "Well, there +might be Mr. Julius Caesar, and then again Mr. George Washington might drop +in. What I'm putting you wise to," he added sharply, "is that you'd better +get on to your job." + +There was a click as of a receiver hung up with a jerk, and a subdued +giggle that testified to the innocent attention of the telephone operator. + +With but a pale reflection of his usual courtesy the harassed candidate +left the bosom of his family. No sooner had he taken his departure than the +bosom heaved. + +"My dear girl," said Alys, "if you take that tone with your husband +you'll never hold him--never. Men won't stand for it. You're only hurting +yourself." + +"What tone?" Genevieve inquired as she rose calmly and led the way to the +drawing-room. + +"I mean"--Mrs. Brewster-Smith slipped a firm, white hand across Genevieve's +shoulders--"you shouldn't try to force issues. It looks as if you didn't +have confidence in your husband, and men, to _do_ and _be_ their best, must +feel perfect trust from the woman they love. You don't mind my being so +frank, dear, but we women must help one another--by our experience and our +intuitions." + +Genevieve looked at her. Oblique angles had become irritatingly +fascinating. "I'm beginning to think so more and more," she replied. + +"It's for your own good, dear," Alys smiled. + +"Yes," Genevieve agreed. "I understand. Things that hurt are often for our +good, aren't they? We have to be _made_ to realize facts really to know +them." + +"Coffee, dear?" inquired Alys, assuming the duties of hostess. + +Genevieve shook her head. "No. I find I've been rather wakeful of late: +perhaps it's coffee. Excuse me. I must telephone." + +A moment later she returned beaming. + +"I have borrowed a car for tomorrow, and I want you and Emelene to come +with me for a little spin. We ought to have a bright day; the night is +wonderful. Poor George," she sighed, "I wish he didn't have to be away so +much." + +"His career is yours, you know," kittenishly bromidic, Emelene comforted +her. The following day fulfilled the promise of its predecessor. Clear and +balmy, it invited to the outer, world, and it was with pleased anticipation +that Genevieve's guests prepared for the promised outing. Genevieve glanced +anxiously into her gold mesh bag. The motor was hired, not borrowed. + +She had permitted herself this one white lie. + +She ushered her guests into the tonneau and took her place beside the +chauffeur. Their first few stops were for such prosaic purchases as the +household made necessary; there was a pause at the post office, another at +the Forum, where Genevieve left two highly disgruntled women waiting +for her while with a guilty sense of teasing her prey she prolonged her +business. The sight of their stiffened figures and averted faces when she +returned to them kindled a new amusement. + +At last they were settled comfortably, and the car turned toward the +suburbs. + +The town streets were passed and lines of villa homes thinned. The ornate +colonial gates of the Country Club flashed by. Now the sky to the right was +dark with the smoke of the belching chimneys of many factories. For a block +or two cottages of the better sort flanked the road; then, grim, ugly +and dilapidated, stretched the twin "improved" sections of Kentwood and +Powderville. In the air was an acrid odor. Soot begrimed everything. The +sodden ground was littered with refuse between the shacks, which were +dignified by the title of "Workmen's Cottages." + +Amid the confusion, irregular trodden paths led, short-cutting, toward the +clattering, grinding munition plants. For a space of at least half an acre +around the huge iron buildings the ground, with sinister import, was +kept clear of dwellings, but in all directions outside of the inclosure +thousands of new yellow-pine shacks testified to the sudden demand for +labor. A large weather-beaten signboard at a wired cross-road bore the +name of "Kentwood," plus the advice that the office was adjacent for the +purchase or lease of the highly desirable villa sites. + +The motor drew up and Genevieve alighted. For the first time since their +course had been turned toward the unlovely but productive outskirts, +Genevieve faced her passengers. Alys' face was pale. Emelene's expression +was puzzled and worried, as a child's is worried when the child is suddenly +confronted by strange and gloomy surroundings. + +"There is some one in the renting office," said Genevieve with quiet +determination. "I'll find but. We shall need a guide to go around with us. +Emelene, you needn't get out unless you wish to." + +Emelene shuffled uneasily, half rose, and collapsed helplessly back on +the cushions, like a baby who has encountered the resistance of his buggy +strap. + +"I--if you'll excuse me, Genevieve, dear, I won't get out. I've only got +on my thin kid slippers. I didn't expect to put foot on the pavement this +morning, you know." + +"Very well, then, Alys!" Genevieve's voice assumed a note of command her +mild accents had never before known. + +Alys' brilliant eyes snapped. "I have no desire," she said firmly, with all +the dignity of an affronted lady, "to go into this matter." "I know you +haven't. But I'm going to walk through. _I_ am making a report for the +Woman's Forum." + +Alys' face crimsoned with anger. + +"You have no right to do such a thing," she exclaimed. "I shall refuse you +permission. You will have to obtain a permit." + +"I have one," Genevieve retorted, "from the Health Department. And--I am to +meet one of the officers here." + +Mrs. Brewster-Smith's descent from the tonneau was more rapid than +graceful. + +"What are you trying to do?" she demanded. "Genevieve, I don't understand +you." + +"Don't you?" + +The diffident girl had suddenly assumed the incisive strength of observant +womanhood. + +"I think you _do_. I am going to show you your own responsibilities, if +that's a possible thing. I'm not going to let you throw them on George +because he's a man and your kin; and I shan't let him throw them on an +irresponsible agent because he has neither the time nor the inclination +to do justice to himself, to you, nor to these people to whom he is +responsible." + +She waved a hand down the muddy, jumbled street. + +The advent of an automobile had had its effect. Eager faces appeared at +windows and doors. Children frankly curious and as frankly neglected +climbed over each other, hanging on the ragged fences. Two mongrel dogs +strained at their chains, yelping furiously. Genevieve crossed to the +little square building bearing a gilt "office" sign. There was no response +to her imperative knock, but a middle-aged man appeared on the porch of the +adjoining shack and observed her curiously. + +"Wanta rent?" he called jeeringly. + +"Are you in charge here?" Genevieve inquired. + +"Sorter," he temporized. "Watcha want?" + +"I want some one who knows something about it to go around Kentwood with +us." + +"What for?" he snarled. "I got my orders." + +"From whom?" countered Genevieve. + +"None of your business, as I can see." He eyed her narrowly. "But my orders +is to keep every one nosin' around here without no good raison _out_ of the +place--and I don't think _you're_ here to rent, nor your friend, neither. +Besides, there ain't nothin' to rent." + +Mrs. Brewster-Smith colored. The insult to her ownership of the premises +stung her to resentment. + +"My good man," she said sharply. "I happen to be the proprietor of North +Kent wood." + +"Then you'd better beat it." The guardian grinned. "There's a dame been +here with one of them fellers from the town office." + +"Where are they now?" questioned Genevieve sharply. + +"Went up factory way. But if you _ain't_ one of them lady nosies, you'd +better beat it, I tell you." + +Genevieve looked up the street. "Very well, we'll walk on up. This is North +Kentwood, isn't it?" + +"Ain't much choice," he shrugged, "but it is. You can smell it a mile. Say, +you lady owner there"--he laughed at his own astuteness in not being taken +in--"you know the monikers, don't you? South Kentwood, 'Stinktown'; North +Kentwood, 'Swilltown'?" He grinned, pulled at his hip pocket and, +extracting a flat glass flask, took a prolonged swig and replaced the +bottle with a leer. + +The two incongruous visitors were already negotiating the muddy +thoroughfare between the dilapidated dwellings. Presently these gave place +to roughly knocked together structures for two and three families. + +The number of children was surprising. Now and again a shrill-voiced woman, +who seemed the prototype of her who lived in the shoe, came to admonish her +young and stare with hostile eyes at the invaders. Refuse, barrels, cans, +pigs, dogs, chickens, were on all sides, with here and there a street +watering trough, fed, apparently, by an occasional tap at the wide-apart +hydrants, installed by the factories for protection in case of fire, as +evidenced by the signs staked by the apparatus. + +"What do they pay you for these cottages?" Genevieve inquired suddenly. + +Mrs. Brewster-Smith, whose curiosity concerning her possessions had been +aroused by the physical evidence of the same, balanced on a rut and +surveyed her tormentor angrily. + +"I'm sure I don't know. I've told you before I don't understand such +matters, and I see nothing to be gained by coming here." + +Genevieve pushed open a battered gate, walked up to the door and knocked. + +"What are you doing?" her companion called, querulously. + +A noise of many pattering feet on bare floors, a strident order for +silence, and the door swung open. A young girl stood in the doorway. Behind +her were a dozen or more children, varying from toddlers to gawky girls and +boys of school age. + +Genevieve's eyes widened. "Dear me," she exclaimed, "they aren't all +_yours_!" + +The young woman grinned mirthlessly. "I should say not!" she snapped. "They +pays me to look out for 'em--their fathers and mothers in the factory. +Watcha want?" + +"What do you pay for a house like this?" + +The hired mother's brow wrinkled, and her lips drew back in an ugly snarl. +"They robs us, these landlords does. We gotter be 'longside the works, so +they robs us. What do I pay for this? Thirty a month, and at that 'tain't +fit for no dawg to live in. I could knock up a shack like this with tar +paper, I could. + +"And what do we get? I gotter haul the water in a bucket, and cook on an +oil stove, and they hists the price of the ile, 'cause he comes by in a +wagon with it. The landlords is squeezing the life out of us, I tell ye." + +She paused in her tirade to yell at her charges. Then she turned again to +the story of her wrongs. + +"And of all the pest holes I ever seen, this is the plum worst. There's +chills an' fever an' typhoid till you can't rest, an' them kids is abustin' +with measles an' mumps an' scarlet fever. That I ain't got 'em all myself's +a miracle." + +"You ought to have a district nurse and inspector/' said Genevieve, amused, +in spite of her indignation, at the dark picture presented. + +"Distric' nothin'," the other sneered. "There ain't nothin' here but rent +an' taxes--doggone if I don't quit. There's plenty to do this here mindin' +work, an' I bet I could make more at the factory. They're payin' grand for +overtime." + +Genevieve looked at the thin shoulders and narrow chest of the girl, noted +her growing pallor and wondered how long such a physique could withstand +the strain of hard work and overtime. She sighed. Something of her thoughts +must have shown in her face, for the girl reddened and her lips tightened. +Without another word she slammed the door in her visitor's face. + +Mrs. Brewster-Smith cackled thin laughter. + +"That's what you get for interfering," she jeered, so angry with her +hostess for this forced inspection of her source of income that she +was ready to sacrifice the comforts of her extended visit to have the +satisfaction of airing her resentment. + +"Poor soul!" said Genevieve. "Thirty a month!" Her eyes ran over the rows +of crowded shacks. "The owners must get together and do something here," +she said. "These conditions are simply vile." + +"It's probably all these people are used to," Alys snapped, "And, besides, +if they went further into town it'd cost them the trolley both ways, and +all the time lost. It's the location they pay for. Mr. Alien told me not +two months ago he thought rents could be raised." + +"If you all co-operate," Genevieve continued her own line of thought, "you +could at least clean the place and make it _safe_ to live in, even if they +haven't any comforts." + +Her face brightened. Around the corner came the strong, solid figure of +Miss Eliot; behind her trotted a bespectacled young man who carried a +pigskin envelope under his arm and whose expression was far from happy. + +"Hello!" called Miss Eliot. "So you did come. I'm glad of it. Let me +present Mr. Glass to you. The department lent him to me for the day. And +what do you think of it, now that you can see it?" + +"Glad to meet you," said Genevieve, nodding to the health officer. "What do +I think of it? What does Mr. Glass think? That's more important. Oh, let me +present you--this is Mrs. Brewster-Smith." + +Miss Eliot's face showed no surprise, though her eyes twinkled, but Mr. +Glass was frankly taken aback. + +"Mrs. Brewster--Smith----Brewster--Smith," he stammered. "Oh--er--" he +gripped his pigskin folio as if about to search its contents to verify the +name. "The--er--the owner?" he inquired. + +Alys stiffened. "My dear husband left me this property. I have never before +seen it." + +"I'm very glad," beamed Mr. Glass, "to see that we shall have your +co-operation in our efforts to do something definite for this section--and +measures must be taken quickly. As you see, there is no sanitation, no +trenching, no mosquito-extermination plant. Malaria and typhoid are +prevalent; it's all very bad, very bad, indeed. And you'd hardly believe, +Mrs. Brewster-Smith, what difficulties we are having with the owners as a +class. The five biggest have formed an association. I suppose you've heard +about it. They must have made an effort to interest you "--he stopped +short, remembering that her name appeared on the lists of the "Protective +League." + +"Really"--Alys had recovered her hauteur and the aloofness becoming the +situation--"I know nothing whatever about what measures my agents have +thought it advisable to take." + +Mr. Glass choked and glanced uneasily at Miss Eliot. + +That lady grinned, almost the grin of a gamin. "You needn't look at _me_, +Mr. Glass. I don't represent Mrs. Brewster-Smith." + +"Oh, I know, I know," Mr. Glass hastened to exonerate his companion. + +"I believe Miss Eliot declined the honor," Genevieve's voice was heard. + +"I did," the agent affirmed. She laughed shortly. "Otherwise you would +hardly find me here in my present capacity. One does not 'run with the hare +and hunt with the hounds,' you know." + +Alys lost her temper. It seemed to her she was ruthlessly being forced to +shoulder responsibilities she had been taught to shirk as a sacred feminine +right. Therefore, feeling injured, she voiced her innocence. + +"Your husband, my dear Genevieve, has been good enough to administer my +little estate. Whatever he has done, or now plans to do, meets with _my_ +entire approval." + +The thrust went home in more directions than one. Miss Eliot turned her +frank gaze upon the speaker, while she slowly nodded her head as if +studying a perfect specimen of a noxious species. Mr. Glass gasped. There +was political material in the statement. He looked anxiously at the wife +of the gentleman implicated, but in her was no fear and no manner of +trembling. Instead, the light of battle shone in her eyes. + +"My dear Alys," she said, "my husband has told you that he is too busy a +man to give your affairs his personal attention. He can only advise you and +turn the executive side over to another. His experience does not extend +to the stock market or to real estate. It is an imposition to throw your +burdens upon him. If you derive benefits from ownership, you must educate +yourself to accept your duty to society." + +"Indeed!" flared Alys, furious at this public arraignment. "May I ask if +you intend to continue this insulting attitude?" "If you mean, do I expect +hereafter to be a live woman and not a parasite--I do." + +Mrs. Brewster-Smith turned on her heel and walked away, teetering over the +ruts and holes of the path. + +Genevieve looked distressed. "I'm sorry," she breathed, "I'm ashamed, but +it _had_ to come out. I--I couldn't stand it any longer. I--beg everybody's +pardon. I'm sure, it was awfully bad manners of me. Oh, dear--" she +faltered, half turned, and, with a gesture of appeal toward Mrs. +Brewster-Smith's slowly retreating back, moved as if to follow. + +"I wouldn't go after her," said E. Eliot. "Of course, you haven't had +experience. You don't know how much self-restraint you've got to build up, +but you're here now, and I'm sure Mr. Glass understands. _He's_ got to come +up against all sorts of exasperations on _his_ job, too. He won't take +any stock in Mrs. Brewster-Smith's trying to tie your husband up to these +wretched conditions. + +"He's looking forward to seeing an honest, public-spirited district +attorney get into office--even if your husband doesn't yet see that women +have anything to say about it. They may heckle him in order to force him to +come out on his intentions about the graft, and the eight-hour day, and the +enforcement of the law, but they don't doubt his honesty. When he know's +what's what, I guess the public can trust him to do the right thing. Only +he's got to be shown." + +As she talked, giving Genevieve time to recover from her upheaval, the +three investigators were plowing their way up and down byways equally +depressing and insanitary. Silence ensued. Occasionally an expression of +commiseration or condemnation escaped one or another of the party. + +Suddenly a raucous whistle tore the air, followed by another and another, +declaring the armistice of the noon hour. Iron gates in the surrounding +wall were opened, a stream of men and women poured out, grimed, +sweat-streaked and voluble. The two women and their escort paused and +watched the oncoming swarm of humanity. + +Around the corner, just ahead, strode a giant of a man, followed by a +red-faced, unkempt, familiar figure--the man in charge of the renting +office. The giant came forward threateningly. + +"What youse doing?" he growled. He jerked his jersey, displaying a brass +badge, P. A. Guard. + +"Git outer here--git," he called. + +Mr. Glass stepped forward, displaying his Health Department permit. The +giant laughed. + +"Say, sonny," he sneered, "that don't go--see. Them tin fakes don't git by. +If you're one of them guys, you come here wit' McLaughlin, and youse +can rubber. But we've had enough of this stuff. Them dames is no blind, +neither. I'm guard for the owners here, and we ain't takin' no chances wit' +trouble makers--git. Git a move on!" + +"The department," spluttered Glass, "shall hear of this." + +"That's all right. McLaughlin's the boss. Tell 'em not to send a kid to do +a man's job." + +Genevieve was too amazed to protest. It was her first experience of +defiance of Law and Order by Law and Order. + +Meanwhile, the first stragglers of the released army of toilers were nearly +upon them. The giant observed their approach, and the look of menace +deepened on his huge, congested face. + +"Move on, now--move on," he snarled, and herded them forward in advance of +the workers. + +Sheepishly the three obeyed, but Miss Eliot was not silent. + +"Your name?" she demanded in judicial command. + +The very terseness of her question seemed to jerk an unwilling answer from +the guard. + +"Michael Mehan." + +"And you're employed by the Owners' Protective League?" + +"Sure." + +"Have they given you orders to keep strangers out of the district?" + +"I have me orders, and I know what they be. I'm duly sworn in as extra +guard--and I'm not the only one, neither." + +"Did _he_ come after you?" Miss Eliot indicated the ruffian at his side. + +"I seen the lady owner blew the bunch," that worthy remarked with a hoarse +chuckle. "I wised Mike, all right. Whatcha goin' to do about it?" + +"Mrs. Brewster-Smith, the owner," Miss Eliot observed, "didn't seem to know +that she had employed you. How about that?" + +"I'm put here by the O.P.L. That's good enough fer yer lady +owner--now--ain't it? The things them nosey dames thinks they can git by +wit'!" he observed to the guard, and swore an oath that made Mr. Glass turn +to him with unexpected fury. + +"You may pretend to think that I'm not what I represent myself to be, but +let me tell you, McLaughlin is going to hear of this. One more insult +to these ladies and I'll make it my business to go personally to your +employers. Get me?" + +"Shut your trap, Jim," snarled Mehan. "Yer ain't got no orders fer no fancy +language." He leered at Genevieve. "Now we've shooed the chickens out, +we're tru'." With a wave of his huge paw he indicated the highway the turn +of the path revealed. + +Genevieve looked to the right, where the car should be waiting her. It +was gone. Evidently the indignant Mrs. Brewster-Smith had expedited the +departure. Miss Eliot read her discomfiture. + +"My car is right down here behind that palatial mansion with the hole in +the roof and the tin-can extension. Thank you very much for your escort," +she added, turning to the two representatives of the Protective League. "My +name, by the way, is E. Eliot. I am a real-estate agent and my office is at +22 Braston Street. You might mention it in your report." + +The little car stood waiting, surrounded by a group of admiring children. +Its owner stepped in briskly, backed around and received her passengers. + +"Well," she smiled as they drew out on the traveled highway, "how do you +like the purlieus of our noble little city?" + +Genevieve was silent. Then she spoke with conviction. + +"When George is in power--and he's _got_ to be--the Law will be the Law. I +know him." + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +BY MARJORIE BENTON COOK + + +George Remington walked toward headquarters with more assurance than he +felt. He resented Doolittle's command that he appear at once. He was +beginning to realize the pressure which these campaign managers were +bringing to bear upon him. He was not sure yet how far he could go, in +out-and-out defiance of them and their dictates. + +He knew that he had absolutely no ambitions, no interests in common with +these schemers, whose sole idea lay in party patronage, in manipulating +every political opportunity--in short, in reaping where they had sown. +The question now confronting him was this: was he prepared to sell his +political birthright for the mess of pottage they offered him? + +He stood a second at the door of the office, peering through the reeking, +smoke-filled atmosphere, to get a bird's-eye view of the situation before +he entered. + +Mr. Doolittle sat on the edge of a table monologuing to Wes' Norton and Pat +Noonan. Mr. + +Norton was the president of the Whitewater Commercial Club, composed of the +leading merchants of the town, and Mr. Noonan was the apostle of the liquor +interests. Remington felt his back stiffen as he stepped among them. + +"Good-evening, gentlemen," he said briskly. + +"H'are ye, George?" drawled Doolittle. + +"There was something you wanted to discuss with me?" + +"I dunno as there's anything to discuss, but there's a few things Wes' an' +Pat an' me'd like to say to ye. There ain't no two ways of thinkin' about +the prosperity of Whitewater, ye know, George. The merchants in this town +is satisfied with the way things is boomin'. The factory workers is gittin' +theirs, with high wages an' overtime. The stockholders is makin' no kick on +the dividends--as ye know, George, being one of them. + +"Now, we don't want nuthin' to disturb all this If the fact'ries is +crackin' the law a bit, why, it ain't the first time such things has got +by the inspector. The fact'ry managers'd like some assurance from ye that +ye're goin' to keep yer hands off before they line up the fact'ry hands to +vote for ye." + +Doolittle paused here. George nodded. + +"When are ye comin' out with a plain statement of yer intentions, George?" +inquired Mr. Norton in a conciliatory tone. + +"The voters in this town will get a clear statement of my stand on all the +issues of this campaign in plenty of time, gentlemen." + +"That's all right fer the voter, but ye can't stall _us_ wit' that kind of +talk--" began Noonan. + +"Wait a minute, Pat," counseled Doolittle. "George means all right. He's +new to this game, but he means to stand fer the intrusts of his party, +don't ye, George?" + +"I should scarcely be the candidate of that party if I did not." + +"I ain't interested in no oratory. Are ye or are ye not goin' to keep yer +hands off the prosperity of Whitewater?" demanded Noonan angrily. + +"Look here, Noonan, I am the candidate for this office--you're not. I +intend to do as my conscience dictates. I will not be hampered at every +turn, nor told what to say and what to think. I must get to these things in +my own way." + +"Don't ye fergit that ye're _our_ candidate, that ye are to express the +opinion of the people who will elect ye, and not any dam' theories of yer +own----" + +"I think I get your meaning, Noonan." + +George spoke with a smile which for some reason disconcerted Noonan. He +sensed with considerable irritation the social and class breach between +himself and Remington, and while he did not understand it he resented it. +He called him "slick" to Wes' and Doolittle and loudly bewailed their +choice of him as candidate. + +"Then there's that P.L. bizness, Pat--don't fergit that," urged Wes'. + +"I ain't fergittin' it. There's too much nosin' round Kentwood district by +the women, George. Too much talkin'. Ye'd better call that off right now. +Property owners down there is satisfied, an' they got _their_ rights, ye +know." "I suppose you know what the conditions down there are?" + +"Sure we know, George, and we want to clean it up down there just as much +as you do," said the pacific Doolittle; "but what we're sayin' is, this +ain't the time to do it. Later, mebbe, when the conditions is jest +right----" + +"Somebody has got the women stirred up fer fair. It's up to you to call 'em +off, George," said Mr. Norton. + +"How can I call them off?"--tartly. + +"Ye can put the brakes on Mrs. Remington and that there Sheridan girl, +can't ye?" + +"Miss Sheridan is no longer in my employ. As for Mrs. Remington, if she is +not one in spirit with me, I cannot force her to be. Every human being has +a right to----" + +"Some change sence ye last expressed yerself, George. Seems like I recall +ye sayin', 'I'll settle that!'" remarked Doolittle coldly. + +"We will leave my wife's name out of the discussion, please," said George +with tardy but noble loyalty. "Well, them two I mentioned can stir up some +trouble; but they ain't the brains of their gang, by a long shot. It's this +E. Eliot we gotta deal with. She's as smart, if not smarter, than any man +in this town. She's smarter than you, George--or me, either," he added +consolingly. + +"I've seen her about, but I've never talked to her. What sort of woman is +she?" + +"Quiet, sensible kind. Ye keep thinking, 'How reasonable that woman is,' +till ye wake up and find she's got ye hooked on one of the horns of yer own +damfoolishness! Slick as they make 'em and straight as a string--that's E. +Eliot." + +"What do you want me to do about it?"--impatiently. + +"Are ye aimin' to answer them voiceless questions?" Pat inquired. + +Silence. + +"Plannin' to tear down Kentwood and enforce them factory laws?" demanded +Wes' Norton. + +Still no answer. + +"I'm jest callin' yer attention to the fact that this election is gittin' +nearer every day." "What am I to do with her? I can't afford to show we're +afraid of her." + +"Huh." + +"I can't bribe her to stop." + +"I'd like to see the fella that would try to bribe E. Eliot," Doolittle +chuckled. "Wouldn't be enough of him left to put in a teacup." + +"Then we've got to ignore her." + +"_We_ can ignore her, all right, George; but the women an' some of the +voters ain't ignoring her. It's my idea she's got a last card up her sleeve +to play the day before we go to the polls that'll fix us." + +"Have you any plan in your mind?" + +Doolittle scratched his head, wrestling with thought. + +"We was thinking that if she could be called away suddenly, and detained +till after election--" he began meaningly. + +"You mean----" + +"Something like that." + +"I won't have it, not if I lose the election. I won't stoop to kidnapping +a woman like a highwayman. What do you take me for, Doolittle?" "Georgie, +politics ain't no kid-glove bizness. It ain't what _you_ want; you're jest +a small part of this affair. You're _our_ candidate, and we _got_ to win +this here election. Do you get me?" + +He shot out his underjaw, and there was no sign of his usual good humor. + +"Well, but----" + +"You don't have to know anything about this. We'll handle it. You'll be +pertected to the limit; don't you worry," sneered Noonan. + +"But you can't get away with this old-fashioned stuff nowadays, Doolittle," +protested Remington. + +"Can't we? You jest leave it to your Uncle Benjamin. You don't know nothing +about this. See?" + +"I know it's a dirty, low, underhanded----" + +"George," remarked Mr. Doolittle, slowly hoisting his big body on to its +short legs, "in politics we don't call a spade a spade. We call it 'a +agricultural implument.'" + +With this sage remark Mr. Doolittle took his departure, followed by the +other prominent citizens. + +George sat where they left him, head in hands, for several moments. Then he +sprang up and rushed to the door to call them back. + +He would not stand it--he would not win at that price. He had conceded +everything they had demanded of him up to this point, but here he drew the +line. Ever since that one independent fling of his about suffrage they had +treated him like a naughty child. What did they think he was--a rubber +doll? He would telephone Doolittle that he would rather give up his +candidacy. Here he paused. + +Suppose he did withdraw, nobody would understand. The town would think the +women had frightened him off. He couldn't come out now and denounce the +machine methods of his party. Every eye in Whitewater was focused on him; +his friends were working for him; the district attorneyship was the next +step in his career; Genevieve expected him to win--no, he must go through +with it! But after he got into office, then he would show them! He would +take orders from no one. He sat down again and moodily surveyed the +future. + +In the days which followed, another mental struggle was taking place in the +Remington family. Poor Genevieve was like a woman struck by lightning. She +felt that her whole structure of life had crashed about her ears. In one +blinding flash she had seen and condemned George because he considered +political expediency. She realized that she must think for herself now and +not rely on him for the family celebration. She had conceived her whole +duty in life to consist in being George's wife; but now, by a series of +accidents, she had become aware of the great social responsibilities, the +larger human issues, which men and women must meet together. + +Betty and E. Eliot had pointed out to her that she knew nothing of the +conditions in her own town. They assured her that it was as much her duty +to know about such things as to know the condition of her own back yard. + +Then came the awful revelations of Kentwood--human beings huddled like +rats; children swarming, dirty and hungry! She could not bear to remember +the scenes she had witnessed in Kentwood. + +She recalled the shock of Alys Brewster-Smith's indifference to all that +misery! The widow's one instinct had seemed to be to fight E. Eliot and the +health officer for their interference. Stranger still, the tenants did not +want to be moved out, driven on. The whole situation was confused, but in +it at least one thing stood out clearly: Genevieve realized, during the +sleepless night after her visit to Kentwood, that she hated Cousin Alys! + +The following Sunday, when she put on her coat, she found a souvenir of +that visit in her pocket, a soiled reminder of poverty and toil. She +remembered picking it up and noting that it was the factory pass of +one Marya Slavonsky. She had intended to leave it with some one in the +district, but evidently in the excitement of her enforced exit she had +thrust it into her pocket. + +This Marya worked in the factories. She was one of that grimy army +Genevieve had seen coming out of the factory gate, and she went home to +that pen which Cousin Alys provided. Marya was a girl of Genevieve's own +age, perhaps, while she, Genevieve, had this comfortable home, and George! +She had been blind, selfish, but she would make up for it, she _would_! She +would make a study of the needs of such people; she would go among them +like St. Agatha, scattering alms and wisdom. George might have his work; +she had found hers! She would begin with the factory girls. She would waken +them to what had so lately dawned on her. How could she manage it? The +rules of admission in the munition factories were very strict. + +Then again her eye fell upon the soiled card and a great idea was born in +her brain. Dressed as a factory girl, she would use Marya's card to get her +into the circle of these new-found sisters. She would see how and where +they worked. She would report it all to the Forum and to George. She could +be of use to George at last. + +She remembered Betty's statement that at midnight in the factories the +women and girls had an hour off. That was the time she chose, with true +dramatic instinct. + +She rummaged in the attic for an hour, getting her costume ready. She +decided on an old black suit and a shawl which had belonged to her mother. +She carried these garments to her bedroom and hid them there. Then, with +Machiavellian finesse, she laid her plans. + +She would slip out of bed at half-past eleven o'clock, taking care not to +waken George, and she would dress and leave the house by the side door. +By walking fast she could reach by midnight the factory to which she had +admission. + +It annoyed her considerably to have George announce at luncheon that he had +a political dinner on for the evening and probably would not be home before +midnight. He grumbled a little over the dinner. "The campaign," he said, +"really ended yesterday. But Doolittle thought it was wise to have a last +round-up of the business men, and give them a final speech." + +Genevieve acquiesced with a sympathetic murmur, but she was disappointed. +Merely to walk calmly out of the house at eleven o'clock lessened the +excitement. However, she decided upon leaving George a note explaining that +she had gone to spend the night with Betty Sheridan. + +She looked forward to the long afternoon with impatience. Cousin Emelene +was taking her nap. Mrs. Brewster-Smith left immediately after lunch to +make a call on one of her few women friends. Genevieve tried to get Betty +on the telephone, but she was not at home. + +It was with a thrill of pleasure that she saw E. Eliot coming up the walk +to the door. She hurried downstairs just as the maid explained that Mrs. +Brewster-Smith was not at home. + +"Oh, won't you come in and see me for a moment, Miss Eliot?" Genevieve +begged. "I do so want to talk to you." + +E. Eliot hesitated. "The truth is, I am fearfully busy today, even though +it's Sunday. I wanted to get five minutes with Mrs. Brewster-Smith about +those cottages--" she began. + +Genevieve laid a detaining hand on her arm and led her into the +living-room. + +"She's hopeless! I can hardly bear to have her in my house after the way +she acted about those fearful places." + +"Well, all that district is the limit, of course. She isn't the only +landlord." + +"But she didn't _see_ those people." "She's human, I guess--didn't want to +see disturbing things." + +"I would have torn down those cottages with my own hands!" burst forth +Genevieve. + +E. Eliot stared. "No one likes her income cut down, you know," she +palliated. + +"Income! What is that to human decencies?" cried the newly awakened +apostle. + +"Your husband doesn't entirely agree with you in some of these matters, I +suppose." + +"Oh, yes he does, in his heart! But there's something about politics that +won't let you come right out and say what you think." + +"Not after you've come right out once and said the wrong thing," laughed +E. Eliot. "I'm afraid you will have to use your indirect influence on him, +Mrs. Remington." + +Genevieve threw her cards on the table. + +"Miss Eliot, I am just beginning to see how much there is for women to do +in the world. I want to do something big--the sort of thing you and Betty +Sheridan are doing--to rouse women. What can I do?" E. Eliot scrutinized +the ardent young face with amiable amusement. + +"You can't very well help us just now without hurting your husband's +chances and embarrassing him in the bargain. You see, we're trying to +embarrass him. We want him to kick over the traces and tell what he's going +to do as district attorney of this town." + +"But can't I do something that won't interfere with George? Couldn't I +investigate the factories, or organize the working girls?" + +"My child, have you ever organized anything?" exclaimed E. Eliot. + +"No." + +"Well, don't begin on the noble working girl. She doesn't organize easily. +Wait until the election is over. Then you come in on our schemes and we'll +teach you how to do things. But don't butt in now, I beg of you. Misguided, +well-meaning enthusiasts like you can do more harm to our cause than all +the anti-suffragists in this world!" + +With her genial, disarming smile, E. Eliot rose and departed. She chuckled +all the way back to her rooms over the idea of Remington's bride wanting to +take the field with the enemies of her wedded lord. + +"Women, women! God bless us, but we're funny!" mused E. Eliot. + +Genevieve liked her caller immensely, and she thought over her advice, but +she determined to let it make no difference in her plans. + +She saw her work cut out for her. She would not flinch! + +She would do her bit in the great cause of women--no, of humanity. The +flame of her purpose burned steadily and high. + +At a quarter-past eleven that night a slight, black-clad figure, with a +shawl over its head, softly closed the side door of the Remington house +and hurried down the street. Never before had Genevieve been alone on the +streets after dark. She had not foreseen how frightened she would be at the +long, dark stretches, nor how much more frightened when any one passed her. +Two men spoke to her. She sped on, turning now this way, now that, without +regard to direction--her eyes over her shoulder, in terror lest she be +followed. + +So it was that she plunged around a corner and into the very arms of E. +Eliot, who was sauntering home from a political meeting, where she had +been a much-advertised speaker. She was in the habit of prowling about by +herself. Tonight she was, as usual, unattended--unless one observed two +burly workingmen who walked slowly in her wake. + +"Oh, I beg your pardon," came a gently modulated voice from behind the +shawl. E. Eliot stared. + +"No harm done here. Did I hurt you?" she replied. + +She thought she heard an involuntary "Oh!" from beneath the shawl. + +"No, thanks. Could you tell me how to get to the Whitewater Arms and +Munitions Factory? I'm all turned around." + +"Certainly. Two blocks that way to the State Road, and half a mile north on +that. Shall I walk to the road with you?" + +"Oh, no, thank you," the girl answered and hurried on. E. Eliot stood and +watched her. Where had she heard that voice? She knew a good many girls who +worked at the factories, but none of them spoke like that. All at once a +memory came to her: "Couldn't I investigate something, or organize the +working girls?" Mrs. George Remington! + +"The little fool," ejaculated the other woman, and turned promptly to +follow the flying figure. + +The two burly gentlemen in the rear also turned and followed, but E. Eliot +was too busy planning how to manage Mrs. Remington to notice them. She had +to walk rapidly to keep her quarry in sight. As she came within some thirty +yards of the gate she saw Genevieve challenge the gatekeeper, present her +card and slip inside, the gate clanging to behind her. + +E. Eliot broke into a jog trot, rounded the corner of the wall, pulled +herself up quickly, using the stones of the wall as footholds. She hung +from the top and let herself drop softly inside, standing perfectly still +in the shadow. At the same moment the two burly gentlemen ran round the +corner and saw nothing. "I told ye to run--" began one of them fiercely. + +"Aw, shut up. If she went over here, she'll come out here. We'll wait." + +The midnight gong and the noise of the women shuffling out into the +courtyard drowned that conversation for E. Eliot. She stood and watched the +gatekeeper saunter indoors, not waiting for the man who relieved him on +duty. She watched Genevieve go forward and meet the factory hands. + +The newcomer shyly spoke to the first group. The eavesdropper could not +hear what she said. But the crowd gathered about the speaker, shuffling, +chaffing, finally listening. Somebody captured the gatekeeper's stool and +Genevieve stood on it. + +"What I want to tell you is how beautiful it is for women to stand together +and work together to make the world better," she began. + +"Say, what is your job?" demanded a girl, suspicious of the soft voice and +modulated speech. + +"Well, I--I only keep house now. But I intend to begin to do a great deal +for the community, for all of you----" "She keeps house--poor little +overworked thing!" + +"But the point is, not what you do, but the spirit you do it in----" + +"What is this, a revival meetin'?" + +"So I want to tell you what the women of this town mean to do." + +"Hear! Hear! Listen at the suffragette!" + +"First, we mean to clean up the Kentwood district. You all know how awful +those cottages are." + +"Sure; we live in 'em!" + +"We intend to force the landlords to tear them down and improve all that +district." + +"Much obliged, lady, and where do we go?" demanded one of her listeners. + +"You must have better living conditions." + +"But where? Rents in this town has boomed since the war began. Ain't that +got to you yet? There ain't no place left fer the poor." + +"Then we must find places and make them healthy and beautiful." + +"For the love of Mike! She's talkin' about heaven, ain't she?" "She's +talkin' through her hat!" cried another. + +"Then, we mean to make the factories obey the laws. They have no right to +make you girls work here at night." + +"Who's makin' us?" + +"We are going to force the factories to obey the letter of the law on our +statute books." + +A thin, flushed girl stepped out of the crowd and faced her. + +"Say, who is 'we'?" + +"Why, all of us, the women of Whitewater." + +"How are we goin' to repay the women of Whitewater fer tearin' down our +homes an' takin' away our jobs? Ain't there somethin' we can do to show our +gratitood?" the new speaker asked earnestly. + +"Go to it--let her have it, Mamie Flynn!" cried the crowd. + +"Oh, but you mustn't look at it that way! We must all make some +sacrifices----" + +"Cut that slush! What do you know about sacrifices? I'm on to you. You're +one of them uptown reformers. What do you know about sacrifices? Ye got a +sure place to sleep, ain't ye? Ye've got a full belly an' a husband to give +ye spendin' money, ain't ye? Don't ye come down here gittin' our jobs away +an' then fergettin' all about us!" + +There was a buzz of agreement and an undertone of anger which to an +experienced speaker would have been ominous. But Genevieve blundered on: +"We only want to help you----" + +"We don't want yer help ner yer advice. You keep yer hands off our +business! Do yer preachin' uptown--that's where they need it. Ask the +landlords of Kentwood and the stockholders in the munition factories to +make some sacrifices, an' see where that gits ye! But don't ye come down +here, a-spyin' on us, ye dirty----" + +The last words were happily lost as the crowd of girls closed in on +Genevieve with cries of "Spy!" "Scab!" "Throw her out!" + +They had nearly torn her clothes off before E. Eliot was among them. She +sprang up on the chair and shouted: + +"Girls--here, hold on a minute." + +There was a hush. Some one called out: "It's Miss E. Eliot." "Listen a +minute. Don't waste your time getting mad at this girl. She's a friend of +mine. And you may not believe me, but she means all right." + +"What's she pussyfootin' in here for?" + +"Don't you know the story of the man from Pittsburgh who died and went on?" +cried E. Eliot. "Some kindly spirit showed him round the place, and the +newcomer said: 'Well, I don't think heaven's got anything on Pittsburgh.' +'This isn't heaven!' said the spirit." + +There was a second's pause, and then the laugh came. + +"Now, this girl has just waked up to the fact that Whitewater isn't heaven, +and she thought you'd like to hear the news! I'll take the poor lamb home, +put cracked ice on her head and let her sleep it off." + +They laughed again. + +"Go to it," said the erstwhile spokeswoman for the working girls. + +E. Eliot called them a cheery good-night. The factory girls drifted away, +in little groups, leaving Genevieve, bedraggled and hysterical, clinging to +her rescuer. + +"They would have killed me if you hadn't come!" she gasped. + +E. Eliot thought quickly. + +"Stand here in the shadow of the fence till I come back," she said. "It +will be all right. I've got to run into the office and send a telephone +message. I have a pal there who will let me do it." + +"You--you won't be long?" + +It was clear that the nerve of Mrs. Remington was quite gone. + +"I won't be gone five minutes." + +E. Eliot was as good as her word. + +When she returned she seized the stool on which her companion had made her +maiden speech--ran to the wall, placed it at the spot where she had made +her entrance and urged Genevieve to climb up and drop over; as she +obeyed, E. Eliot mounted beside her. They dropped off, almost at the same +moment--into arms upheld to catch them. + +Genevieve screamed, and was promptly choked. "What'll we do with this extra +one?" asked a hoarse voice. + +"Bring her. There's no time to waste now. If ye yell again, ye'll both be +strangled," the second speaker added as he led the way toward the road, +where the dimmed lights of a motor car shone. + +He was carrying E. Eliot as if she were a doll. Behind him his assistant +stumbled along, bearing, less easily but no less firmly, the, wife of the +candidate for district attorney! + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +BY WILLIAM ALLEN WHITE + + +As the two gagged women--one comfortably gagged with more or less pleasant +bandages made and provided, the other gagged by the large, smelly hand of +an entire stranger to Mrs. George Remington--whom she was trying impolitely +to bite, by way of introduction--were speeding through the night, Mr. +George Remington, ending a long and late speech before the Whitewater +Business Men's Club, was saying these things: + +"I especially deplore this modern tendency to talk as though there were two +kinds of people in this country--those interested in good government, and +those interested in bad government. We are all good Americans. We are all +interested in good government. Some of us believe good government may +be achieved through a protective tariff and a proper consideration for +prosperity [cheers], and others, in their blindness, bow down to wood and +stone!" + +He smiled amiably at the laughter, and continued: + +"But while some of us see things differently as to means, our aims are +essentially the same. You don't divide people according to trades and +callings. I deplore this attempt to set the patriotic merchant against the +patriotic saloonkeeper; the patriotic follower of the race track against +the patriotic manufacturer. + +"Here is my good friend, Benjie Doolittle. When he played the ponies in the +old days, before he went into the undertaking and furniture business, was +he less patriotic than now? Was he less patriotic then than my Uncle Martin +Jaffry is now, with all his manufacturer's interest in a stable government? +And is my Uncle Martin Jaffry more patriotic than Pat Noonan? Or is Pat +less patriotic than our substantial merchant, Wesley Norton? + +"Down with this talk that would make lines of moral and patriotic cleavage +along lines of vocation or calling. I want no votes of those who pretend +that the good Americans should vote in one box and the bad Americans in +another box. I want the votes of those of all castes and cults who believe +in prosperity [loud cheers], and I want the votes of those who believe +in the glorious traditions of our party, its magnificent principles, its +martyred heroes, its deathless name in our history!" + +It was, of course, an after-dinner speech. Being the last speech of the +campaign it was also a highly important one. But George Remington felt, as +he sat listening to the din of the applause, that he had answered rather +neatly those who said he was wabbling on the local economic issue and was +swaying in the wind of socialist agitation which the women had started in +Whitewater. + +As he left the hotel where the dinner had been given, he met his partner on +the sidewalk. + +"Get in, Penny," he urged, jumping into his car. "Come out to the house for +the night, and we'll have Betty over to breakfast. Then she and Genevieve +and you and I will see if we can't restore the _ante-bellum modus vivendi_! +Come on! Emelene and Alys always breakfast in bed, anyway, and it will be +no trouble to get Betty over." The two men rode home in complacent silence. +It was long past midnight. They sat on the veranda to finish their cigars +before going into the house. + +"Penny," asked George suddenly, "what has Pat Noonan got in this game--I +mean against the agitation by the women and this investigation of +conditions in Kentwood? Why should he agonize over it?" + +"Is he fussing about it?" + +"Is he? Do you think I'd tie his name up in a public speech with Martin +Jaffry if Pat wasn't off the reservation? You could see him swell up like a +pizened pup when I did it! I hope Uncle Martin will not be offended." + +"He's a good sport, George. But say--what did Pat do to give you this +hunch?" + +Remington smoked in meditative silence, then answered: + +"Well, Penny, I had to raise the devil of a row the other day to keep Pat +from ribbing up Benjie Doolittle and the organization to a frame-up to +kidnap this Eliot person." + +"Kidnap E. Eliot!" gasped the amazed Evans. "Kidnap that very pest. And I +tell you, man, if I hadn't roared like a stuck ox they would have done +it! Fancy introducing 'Prisoner of Zenda' stuff into the campaign in +Whitewater! Though I will say this, Penny, as between old army friends and +college chums," continued Mr. Remington earnestly, "if a warrior bold with +spurs of gold, who was slightly near-sighted and not particular about his +love being so damned young and fair, would swoop down and carry this E. +Eliot off to his princely donjon, and would let down the portcullis for two +days, until the election is over, it would help some! Though otherwise I +don't wish her any bad luck!" + +The old army friend and college chum laughed. + +"Well, that's your end of the story! I'm mighty glad you stopped it. Here's +my end. You remember two-fingered Moll, who was our first client? The one +who insisted on being referred to as a lady? The one who got converted and +quit the game and who thought she was being pursued by the racetrack gang +because she was trying to live decent?" + +George smiled in remembrance. "Well, she called me up to know if there +was any penalty for renting a house to Mike the Goat and his wife and old +Salubrious the Armenian, who had a lady friend they were keeping from the +cops against her will. She said they weren't going to hurt the lady, and I +could see her every day to prove it. I advised her to keep out of it, of +course; but she was strong for it, because of what she called the big +money. I explained carefully that if anything should happen, her past +reputation would go against her. But she kept saying it was straight, until +I absolutely forbade her to do it, and she promised not to." + +"Mike and his woman, and Old Salubrious!" echoed Remington. "And E. Eliot +locked up with them for two days!" + +He shivered, partly at the memory of his own mealy-mouthed protest. + +"Well," he said, and there was an air of finality in his tone, "I'm glad I +stopped the whole infamous business." + +Mentally he decided to get Noonan on the telephone the first thing in the +morning and make certain that the plan was abandoned. He continued his +chat with Evans. + +"But, Penny, why this agonizing of Noonan? What has he to lose by the +better conditions in Kentwood? Why should he----" + +Outside of a neat white dwelling in the suburbs of Whitewater, four figures +were struggling in the night toward a vine-covered door--that door which +appeared so attractively in the _Welfare Bulletin_ of the Toledo Blade +Steel Company's publicity program as the "prize garden home of J. Agricola, +roller." + +A woman stood in the doorway, holding the door open. Two women, who had +been carried by two men, from an automobile at the gate, were forced +through. There the men left them with their hostess. + +"I was only looking for one of yez," she said, hospitably, "but you're bote +welcome. Now, ladies, I'm goin' to make you comfortable. It won't do no +good to scream, so I'm goin' to take your gags off. And I hope you, lady, +haven't been inconvenienced by a handkerchief. We could just as well +have arranged for your comfort, too." + +"Madam," gasped E. Eliot, who was the first to be released to speech, "it +is unimportant who I am. But do you know that this woman with me is Mrs. +George Remington, the wife of the candidate for district attorney--Mr. +George Remington of Whitewater? There has been a mistake." + +The hostess looked at Genevieve, who nodded a tearful confirmation. But the +woman only smiled. + +"My man don't make mistakes," she said laconically. "And, what's more to +the point, miss, he's a friend of George Remington, and why should he be +giving his lady a vacation? You are E. Eliot, and your friends think you're +workin' too hard, so they're goin' to give you a nice rest. Nothin' will +happen to you if you are a lady, as I think you are. And when I find out +who this other lady is, we'll make her as welcome as you!" + +She went out of the room, locking the door behind her as the two women +struggled vainly with their bonds. In an instant she returned. + +"My man says to tell the one who thinks she's Mrs. George Remington that +she's spendin' the week-end with Mrs. Napoleon Boneypart." My man says +he's a good friend of George Remington and is supportin' him for district +attorney, and that's how he can make it so pleasant here. + +"And I'll tell you something else," she continued proudly. "When George got +married, it was my man that went up and down Smoky Row and seen all the +girls and got 'em to give a dollar apiece for them lovely roses labeled +'The Young Men's Republican Club.' Mr. Doolittle he seen to that. My man +really collected fifty dollars more'n he turned in, and I got a diamond-set +wrist watch with it! So, you see, we're real friendly with them Remingtons, +and we're glad to see you, Mrs. Remington!" + +"Oh, how horrible!" cried Genevieve. "There were eight dozen of those roses +from the Young Men's Republican Club, and to think---Oh, to think----" + +"Well, now, George," cried Mr. Penfield Evans, "just stop and think. Use +your bean, my boy! What is the one thing on earth that puts the fear of God +into Pat Noonan? It's prohibition. Look at the prohibition map out West and +at the suffrage map out West. They fit each other like the paper on the +wall. Whatever women may lack in intelligence about some things, there is +one thing woman knows--high and low, rich and poor! She knows that the +saloon is her enemy, and she hits it; and Pat Noonan, seeing this rise of +women investigating industry, makes common cause with Martin Jaffry and +the whole employing class of Whitewater against the nosey interference of +women. + +"And Pat Noonan is depending on you," continued Evans. "He expects you to +rise. He expects you to go to Congress--possibly to the Senate, and he +figures that he wants to be dead sure you'll not get to truckling to +decency on the liquor question. So he ties you up--or tries you out for a +tie-up or a kidnapping; and Benjie Doolittle, who likes a sporting event, +takes a chance that you'll stand hitched in a plan to rid the community of +a political pest without seriously hurting the pest--a friendless old maid +who won't be missed for a day or two, and whose disappearance can be hushed +up one way or another after she appears too late for the election. + +"Just figure things out, George. Do you think Noonan got Mike the Goat to +assess the girls on the row a dollar apiece for your flowers from the Young +Men's Republican Club, for his health! You had the grace to thank Pat, but +if you didn't know where they came from," explained Mr. Evans cynically, +"it was because you have forgotten where all Pat's floral offerings from +the Y.M.R.C. come from at weddings and funerals! And Pat feels that you're +his kind of people. + +"Politics, George, is not the chocolate eclair that you might think it, if +you didn't know it! Use your bean, my boy! Use your bean! And you'll see +why Pat Noonan lines up with the rugged captains of industry who are the +bulwarks of our American liberty. Pat uses his head for something more than +a hatrack." + +The two puffed for a time in silence. Finally the host said: "Well, let's +turn in." Three minutes later George called across the upper hall to +Penfield. + +"The joke's on us, Penny. Here's a note saying that Genevieve is over with +Betty for the night. We'll call her up after breakfast and have them both +over to a surprise party." + +Penny strolled across to his friend's door. He was disappointed, and he +showed it. He found George sitting on the side of his bed. + +"Penny," mused the Young Man in Politics, in his finest mood, "you know I +sometimes think that, perhaps, way down deep, there is something wrong with +our politics. I don't like to be hooked up with Noonan and his gang. And I +don't like the way Noonan and his gang are hooked up with Wesley Norton and +the silk stockings and Uncle Martin and the big fellows. Why can't we get +rid of the Noonan influence? They aren't after the things we're after! +They only furnish the unthinking votes that make majorities that elect the +fellows the big crooks handle. Lord, man, it's a dirty mess! And why women +want to get into the dirty mess is more than I can see." "What a sweet +valedictory address you are making for a young ladies' school!" scoffed +Penny. "The hills are green far off! Aren't you the Sweet Young Thing. But +I'll tell you why the women want to get in, George. They think they want to +clean up the mess." + +"But would they clean it? Wouldn't they vote about as we vote?" + +"Well," answered Mr. Evans with the cynicism of the judicial mind, "let's +see. You know now, if you didn't know at the time, that Noonan got Mike +the Goat to assess the disorderly houses for the money to buy your wedding +roses from the Y.M.R.C. All right. Noonan's bartender is on the ticket with +you as assemblyman. Are you going to vote for him or not?" + +"But, Penny, I've just about got to vote for him." + +"All right, then. I'll tell Genevieve the truth about Noonan and the +flowers, and I'll ask her if she would feel that she had to vote for +Noonan's bartender!" retorted Mr. Evans. "Giving women the ballot will help +at least that much. If the Noonans stay in politics, they'll get no help +from the women when they vote!" + +"But aren't we protecting the women?" + + * * * * * + +"Anyway, Mrs. Remington," said E. Eliot comfortably, "I'm glad it happened +just this way. Without you, they would hold me until after the election on +Tuesday. With you, about tomorrow at ten o'clock we shall be released. E. +Eliot alone they have made every provision for holding. They have started +a scandal, I don't doubt, necessary to explain my absence, and pulled the +political wires to keep me from making a fuss about it afterward. They know +their man in the district attorney's office, and----" + +"Do you mean George Remington?" This from his wife, with flashing eyes. + +"I mean," explained E. Eliot unabashed, "that for some reason they feel +safe with George Remington in the district attorney's office, or they would +not kidnap me to prevent his defeat! That is the cold-blooded situation." + +"This party," E. Eliot smiled, "is given at the country home of Mike the +Goat, as nearly as I can figure it out. Mike is a right-hand man of Noonan. +Noonan is a right-hand man of Benjie Doolittle and Wesley Norton, and they +are all a part of the system that holds Martin Jaffry's industries under +the amiable beneficence of our sacred protective tariff! Hail, hail, the +gang's all here--what do we care now, my dear? And because you are here and +are part of the heaven-born combination for the public good, I am content +to go through the rigors of one night without a nightie for the sake of the +cause!" + +"But they don't know who I am!" protested Mrs. Remington. "And----" + +"Exactly, and for that reason they don't know who you are not. Tomorrow the +whole town will be looking for you, and Noonan will hear who you are and +where you are. Then! Say, girl--_say, girl,_ it _will_ be grist for our +mill! Fancy the headlines all over the United States: + +'GANG KIDNAPS CANDIDATE'S WIFE MYSTERY SHROUDS PLOT CANDIDATE REMINGTON IS +SILENT.'" + +"But he won't be silent," protested the indignant Genevieve. + +"I tell you, he'll denounce it from the platform. He'll never let this +outrage----" + +"Well, my dear," said the imperturbable E. Eliot, "when he denounces this +plot he'll have to denounce Doolittle and Noonan, and probably Norton, and +maybe his Uncle Martin Jaffry. Somebody is paying big money for this job! I +said the headlines will declare: + +'CANDIDATE REMINGTON is SILENT But Still Maintains That Women Are Protected +from Rigors of Cruel World by Man's Chivalry.'" + +"Oh, Miss Eliot, don't! How can you? Oh, I know George will not let this +outrage----" + +"Of course not," hooted E. Eliot. "The sturdy oak will support the clinging +vine! But while he is doing it he will be defeated. And if he doesn't +protest he will be defeated, for I shall talk!" + +"George Remington will face defeat like a gentleman, Miss Eliot; have no +fear of that. He will speak out, no matter what happens." "And when he +speaks, when he tells the truth about this whole alliance between the +greedy, ruthless rich and the brutal, vicious dregs of this community--our +cause is won!" + + * * * * * + +The next morning George Remington reached from his bed for his telephone +and called up the Sheridan residence. Two minutes later Penfield Evans +heard a shout. At his door stood the unclad and pallid candidate for +district attorney. + +"Penny," he gasped, "Genevieve's not there! She has not been with Betty all +night. And Betty has gone out to find E. Eliot, who is missing from her +boarding-house!" + +"Are you sure----" + +"God--Penny--I thought I had stopped it!" + +George was back in his room, flying into his clothes. The two men were +talking loudly. From down the hall a sleepy voice--unmistakably Mrs. +Brewster-Smith's--was drawling: + +"George--George--are you awake? I didn't hear you come in. Dear Genevieve +went over to stay all night with Cousin Betty, and the oddest thing +happened. About midnight the telephone bell rang, and that odious Eliot +person called you up!" + +George was in the hall in an instant and before Mrs. Brewster-Smith's door. + +"Well, well, for God's sake, what did she say!" he cried. + +"Oh, yes, I was coming to that. She said to send your chauffeur with +the car down to the--oh, I forget, some nasty factory or something, for +Genevieve. She said Genevieve was down there talking to the factory girls. +Fancy that, George! So I just put up the receiver. I knew Genevieve was +with Betty Sheridan and not with that odious person at all--it was some +ruse to get your car and compromise you. Fancy dear Genevieve talking to +the factory girls at midnight!" + +Penfield Evans and George Remington, standing in the hall, listened to +these words with terror in their hearts. + +"Get Noonan first," said George. "I'll talk to him." + +In five seconds Evans had Noonan's residence. Remington listened to Penny's +voice. "Gone," he was saying. "Gone where?" And then: "Why, he was at the +dinner last---What's Doolittle's number?" ("Noonan went to New York on the +midnight train," he threw at George.) A moment later Remington heard his +partner cry, "Doolittle's gone to New York? On the midnight train?" + +"Try Norton," snapped George. Soon he heard Penny exclaim. "Albany?" said +Penny. "Mr. Norton is in Albany? Thank you!" + +"Their alibis!" said Evans calmly, as he hung up the receiver and stared at +his partner. + +"Well, it--it----Why, Penny, they've stolen Genevieve! That damned Mike +and the Armenian! They've got Genevieve with that Eliot woman! God----Why, +Penny, for God's sake, what----" + +"Slowly, George--slowly. Let's move carefully." + +The voice of Penfield Evans was cool and steady, + +"First of all, we need not worry about any harm coming to Genevieve. She +is with Miss Eliot, and that woman has more sense than a man. She may be +depended upon. Now, then," Evans waved his partner to silence and went +on: "the next thing to consider is how much publicity we shall give this +episode." He paused. + +"It's not a matter of publicity; it's a matter of getting Genevieve +immediately." + +"An hour or so of publicity of the screaming, hysterical kind will not help +us to find Genevieve. But when we do find her, our publicity will have +defeated you!" + +The two men stared at each other. Remington said: "You mean I must shield +the organization!" + +"If you are to be elected--yes!" + +"Do you think Genevieve and Miss Eliot would consent to shield the +organization when we find them? Why, Penny, you're mad! We must call up the +chief of police! We must scour the country! I propose to go right to the +newspapers! The more people who know of this dastardly thing the sooner we +shall recover the victims!" + +"And the sooner Noonan, when he comes home tonight, will denounce you as +an accessory before the fact, with Norton and Doolittle as corroborating +witnesses for him! Oh, you're learning politics fast, George!" + +The thought of what Genevieve would say when she knew, through Noonan and +Doolittle, that he had heard of the plot to kidnap Miss Eliot, and within +an hour had talked to his wife casually at luncheon without saying anything +about it, made George's heart stop. He realized that he was learning +something more than politics. He walked the floor of the room. + +"Well," he said at last, "let's call in Uncle Martin Jaffry. He----" + +"Yes; he is probably paying for the job. He might know something! I'll get +him." + +"Paying for the job! Do you think he knew of this plot?" cried George as +Evans stood at the telephone. + +"Oh, no. He just knew, in a leer from Doolittle, that they had +extraordinary need for Eve thousand dollars or so in your behalf--that they +had consulted you. And then Doolittle winked and Noonan cocked his head +rakishly, and Uncle Martin put--Hello, Mr. Jaffry. This is Penny. Dress +and come down to the office quickly. We are in serious trouble." + +Twenty minutes later Uncle Martin was sitting with the two young men in the +office of Remington and Evans. When they explained the situation to him his +dry little face screwed up. + +"Well, at least Genevieve will be all right," he muttered. "E. Eliot will +take care of her. But, boys--boys," he squeezed his hands and rocked in +misery, "the devil of it is that I gave Doolittle the money in a check and +then went and got another check from the Owners' Protective Association and +took the peak load off myself, and Doolittle was with me when I got the P. +A. check. We've simply got to protect him. And, of course, what he knows, +Noonan knows. We can't go tearing up Jack here, calling police and raising +the town!" + +George Remington rose. + +"Then I've got to let my wife lie in some dive with that unspeakable Turk +and that Mike the Goat while you men dicker with the scoundrels who +committed this crime!" he said. "My God, every minute is precious! We must +act. Let me call the chief of police and the sheriff----" + +"All dear friends of Noonan's," Penny quietly reminded him. "They probably +have the same tip about what is on as you and Uncle Martin have! Calm down, +George! First, let me go out and learn when Noonan and Doolittle are coming +home! When we know that, we can----" + +"Penny, I can't wait. I must act now. I must denounce the whole damnable +plot to the people of this country. I must not rest one second longer in +silence as an accessory. I shall denounce----" + +"Yes, George, you shall denounce," exclaimed his partner. "But just +whom--yourself, that you did not warn Miss Eliot all day yesterday!" + +"Yes," cried Remington, "first of all, myself as a coward!" + +"All right. Next, then, your Uncle Martin Jaffry, who was earnestly trying +to help you in the only way he knew how to help! Why, George, that would +be----" "That would be the least I could do to let the people see----" + +"To let the people see that Mrs. Brewster-Smith and all your social friends +in this town are associated with Mike the Goat and his gang----" + +Before Evans could finish, his partner stopped him. + +"Yes, yes--the whole damned system of greed! The rich greed and the poor +greed--our criminal classes plotting to keep justice from the decent +law-abiding people of the place, who are led like sheep to the slaughter. +What did the owners pay that money for? Not for the dirty job that was +turned--not primarily. But to elect me, because they thought I would not +enforce the factory laws and the housing laws and would protect them in +their larceny! That money Uncle Martin collected was my price--my price!" + +He was standing before his friends, rigid and white in rage. Neither man +answered him. + +"And because the moral sense of the community was in the hearts and heads +of the women of the community," he went on, "those who are upholding the +immoral compact between business and politics had to attack the womanhood +of the town--and Genevieve's peril is my share in the shame. By God, I'm +through!" + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +BY MARY AUSTIN + + +Close on Young Remington's groan of utter disillusionment came a sound from +the street, formless and clumsy, but brought to a sharp climax with the +crash of breaking glass. + +Even through the closed window which Penfield Evans hastily threw up, there +was an obvious quality to the disturbance which revealed its character even +before they had grasped its import. + +The street was still full of morning shadows, with here and there a dancing +glimmer on the cobbles of the still level sun, caught on swinging dinner +pails as the loosely assorted crowd drifted toward shop and factory. + +In many of the windows half-drawn blinds marked where spruce window +trimmers added last touches to masterpieces created overnight, but directly +opposite nothing screened the offense of the Voiceless Speech, which +continued to display its accusing questions to the passer-by. + +Clean through the plate-glass front a stone had crashed, leaving a heap of +shining splinters, on either side of which a score of men and boys loosely +clustered, while further down a ripple of disturbance marked where the +thrower of the stone had just vanished into some recognized port of safety. + +It was a clumsy crowd, half-hearted, moved chiefly by a cruel delight in. +destruction for its own sake, and giving voice at intervals to coarse +comment of which the wittiest penetrated through a stream of profanity, +like one of those same splinters of glass, to the consciousness of at least +two of the three men who hung listening in the window above: + +"To hell with the----suffragists!" + +At the same moment another stone hurled through the break sent the +Voiceless Speech toppling; it lay crumpled in a pathetic feminine sort +of heap, subject to ribald laughter, but Penny Evans' involuntary cry +of protest was cut off by his partner's hand on his shoulder. "They're +Noonan's men, Penny; it's a put-up job." + +George had marked some of the crowd at the meetings Noonan had arranged for +him, and the last touch to the perfunctory character of the disturbance was +added by the leisurely stroll of the policeman turning in at the head of +the street. Before he reached the crowd it had redissolved into the rapidly +filling thoroughfare. + +"It's no use, Penny. Our women have seen the light and beaten us to it; +we've got to go with them or with Noonan and his--Mike the Goat!" + +Recollection of his wife's plight cut him like a knife. "The Brewster-Smith +women have got to choose for themselves!" He felt about for his hat like a +man blind with purpose. + +The street sweeper was taking up the fragments of the shattered windows +half an hour later, when Martin Jaffry found himself going rather aimlessly +along Main Street with a feeling that the bottom had recently dropped +out of things--a sensation which, if the truth must be told, was greatly +augmented by the fact that he hadn't yet breakfasted. He had remained +behind the two younger men to get into communication with Betty Sheridan +and ask her to stay close to the telephone in case Miss Eliot should again +attempt to get into touch with her. He lingered still, dreading to go into +any of the places where he was known lest he should somehow be led to +commit himself embarrassingly on the subject of his nephew's candidacy. + +His middle-aged jauntiness considerably awry, he moved slowly down the +heedless street, subject to the most gloomy reflections. Like most men, +Martin Jaffry had always been dimly aware that the fabric of society is +held together by a system of mutual weaknesses and condonings, but he +had always thought of himself and his own family as moving freely in the +interstices, peculiarly exempt, under Providence, from strain. Now here +they were, in such a position that the first stumbling foot might tighten +them all into inextricable scandal. + +It is true that Penny, at the last moment, had prevailed on George to put +off the relief of his feelings by public repudiation of his political +connections, at least until after a conference with the police. And to +George's fear that the newspapers would get the news from the police before +he had had a chance to repudiate, he had countered with a suggestion, drawn +from an item in the private history of the chief--known to him through his +father's business--which he felt certain would quicken the chief's sense of +the propriety of keeping George's predicament from the press. + +"My God!" said George in amazement, and Martin Jaffry had responded +fervently with "O Lord!" + +Not because it shocked him to think that there might be indiscretions known +to the lawyer of a chief of police which the chief might not wish known to +the world, but because, with the addition of this new coil to his nephew's +affairs, he was suddenly struck with the possibility of still other coils +in any one of which the saving element of indiscretion might be wanting. + +Suppose they should come upon one, just one impregnable honesty, one soul +whom the fear of exposure left unshaken. On such a possibility rested the +exemption of the Jaffry-Remingtons. It was the reference to E. Eliot in his +instructions to Betty which had awakened in Jaffry's mind the disquieting +reflection that just here might prove such an impregnability. They probably +wouldn't be able to "do anything" with E. Eliot simply because she herself +had never done anything she was afraid to go to the public about. To do him +justice, it never occurred to him that in the case of a lady it was easily +possible to invent something which would be made to answer in place of an +indiscretion. + +Probably that was Martin Jaffry's own impregnability--that he wouldn't have +lied about a lady to save himself. What he did conclude was that it was +just this unbending quality of women, this failure to provide the saving +weakness, which unfitted them for political life. + +He shuddered, seeing the whole fabric of politics fall in ruins around +an electorate composed largely of E. Eliots, feeling himself stripped of +everything that had so far distinguished him from the Noonans and the +Doolittles. + +Out of his sudden need for reinstatement with himself, he raised in his +mind the vision of woman as the men of Martin Jaffry's world conceived +her--a tender, enveloping medium in which male complacency, unchecked by +any breath of criticism, reaches its perfect flower--the flower whose +fruit, eaten in secret and afar from the soil which nourishes it, is graft, +corruption and civic incompetence. + +Instinctively his need directed him toward the Remington place. + +Mrs. Brewster-Smith was glad to see him. Between George's hurried departure +and Jaffry's return several of the specters that haunt such women's lives +looked boldly in at the window. + +There was the specter of scandal, as it touched the Remingtons, touching +that dearest purchase of femininity, social standing; there was the specter +of poverty, which threatened from the exposure of the source of her income +and the enforcement of the law; nearer and quite as poignant, was the +specter of an ignominious retreat from the comfort of George Remington's +house to her former lodging, which she was shrewd enough to realize would +follow close on the return of her cousin's wife. + +All morning she had beaten off the invisible host with that courage--worthy +of a better cause--with which women of her class confront the assaults of +reality; and the sight of Martin Jaffry coming up the broad front walk met +her like a warm waft of security. She flung open the door and met him with +just that mixture of deference and relief which the situation demanded. + +She was terribly anxious about poor Genevieve, of course, but not so +anxious that she couldn't perceive how Genevieve's poor uncle had suffered. + +"What, no breakfast! Oh, you poor man! Come right out into the +dining-room." + +Mrs. Brewster-Smith might have her limitations, but she was entirely aware +of the appeasing effect of an open fire and a spread cloth even when no +meal is in sight; she was adept in the art of enveloping tenderness and the +extent to which it may be augmented by the pleasing aroma of ham and eggs +and the coffee which she made herself. And oh, those _poor_ women, what +_disaster_ they were bringing on themselves by their prying into things +that were better left to more competent minds, and what pain to _other_ +minds! So _selfish_, but of course they didn't realize. Really she hoped +it would be a lesson to Genevieve. The dear girl was so changed that she +didn't see how she was going to go on living with her; though, of course, +she would like to stand by dear George--and a woman did so appreciate a +home! + +At this point the enveloping tenderness of Mrs. Brewster-Smith concentrated +in her fine eyes, just brushed the heart of her listener as with a passing +wing, hovered a moment, and dropped demurely to the tablecloth. + +In the meantime two sorely perplexed citizens were grappling with the +problem of the disappearance of two highly respectable women from their +homes under circumstances calculated to give the greatest anxiety to +faithful "party" men. It hadn't needed Penny's professional acquaintance +with Chief Buckley to impress the need of secrecy on that official's soul. +"Squeal" on Noonan or Mike the Goat? Not if he knew himself. Naturally Mr. +Remington must have his wife, but at the same time it was important to +proceed regularly. + +"And the day before election, too!" mourned the chief. "Lord, what a mess! +But keep cool, Mr. Remington; this will come out all right!" + +After half an hour of such ineptitudes, Penfield Evans found it necessary +to withdraw his partner from the vicinity of the police before his +impatience reached the homicidal pitch. + +"Buckley's no such fool as he sounds," Penny advised. "He probably has a +pretty good idea where the women are hidden, but you must give him time to +tip off Mike for a getaway." + +But the suggestion proved ill chosen, at least so far as it involved a hope +of keeping George from the newspapers. Shocked to the core of his young +egotism as he had been, Remington was yet not so shocked that the need of +expression was not stronger in him than any more distant consideration. + +"Getaway!" he frothed. "Getaway! While a woman like my wife--" But the bare +idea was too much for him. + +"They may get away, but they'll not get off--not a damned one of them--of +_us_," he corrected himself, and with face working the popular young +candidate for district attorney set off almost on a run for the office of +the Sentinel. + +Reflecting that if his friend was bent upon official suicide, there was +still no reason for his being, a witness to it, Penny turned aside into +a telephone booth and called up Betty Sheridan. He heard her jump at the +sound of his voice, and the rising breath of relief running into his name. + +"O-o-oh, Penny! Yes, about twenty minutes ago. Genevieve is with her.... +Oh, yes, I'm sure." + +Her voice sounded strong and confident. + +"They're in a house about an hour from the factory," she went on, "among +some trees. I'm sure she said trees. We were cut off. No, I couldn't get +her again.... Yes ... it's a party line. In the Redfield district. Oh, +Penny, do you think they'll do her any harm?" + +It was, no doubt, the length of time it took to assure Miss Sheridan on +this point that prevented Evans from getting around to the _Sentinel_, +whose editor was at that moment giving an excellent exhibition of +indecision between his obligation as a journalist and his role of leading +citizen in a town where he met his subscribers at dinner. + +It was good stuff--oh, it was good! What headlines! + +PROMINENT SOCIETY WOMEN KIDNAPPED + +CANDIDATE REMINGTON REPUDIATES PARTY! + +It was good for a double evening edition. On the other hand, there was +Norton, one of his largest advertisers. There was also the rival city of +Hamilton, which was even now basely attempting to win away from Whitewater +a recently offered Carnegie library on the ground of its superior fitness. + +Finally there was the party. + +The _Sentinel_ had always been a sound party organ. But _what_ a scoop! +And suppose it were possible to save the party at the expense of its worst +element? Suppose they raised the cry of reform and brought Remington in on +a full tide of public indignation? + +Would Mike stand the gaff? If it were made worth his while. But what about +Noonan and Doolittle? So the editorial mind shuttled to and fro amid the +confused outpourings of the amazed young candidate, while with eyes bright +and considering as a rat's the editor followed Remington in his pacings up +and down the dusty, littered room. + +Completely occupied with his own reactions, George's repudiation swept on +in an angry, rapid stream which, as it spent itself, began to give place to +the benumbing consciousness of a divided hearing. + +Until this moment Remington had had a pleasant sense of the press as a fine +instrument upon which he had played with increasing mastery, a trumpet upon +which, as his mind filled with commendable purposes, he could blow a very +pretty tune,--a noble tune with now and then a graceful flourish acceptable +to the public ear. Now as he talked he began to be aware of flatness, of +squeaking keys.... + +"Naturally, Mr. Remington, I'll have to take this up with the business +management..." dry-lipped, the tune sputtered out. At this juncture the +born journalist awaked again in the editorial breast at the entrance of +Penfield Evans with his new item of Betty's interrupted message. + +Two women shut up in a mysterious house among the trees! Oh, hot stuff, +indeed! + +Under it George rallied, recovered a little of the candidate's manner. + +"Understand," he insisted. "This goes in even if I have to pay for it at +advertising rates." + +A swift pencil raced across the paper as Remington's partner swept him off +again to the police. + +Betty's call had come a few minutes before ten. What had happened was very +simple. + +The two women had been given breakfast, for which their hands had been +momentarily freed. When the bonds had been tied again it had been easy for +E. Eliot to hold her hands in such a position that she was left, when their +keeper withdrew, with a little freedom of movement. + +By backing up to the knob she had been able to open a door into an +adjoining room, in which she had been able to make out a telephone on a +stand against the wall. + +This room also had locked windows and closed shutters, but her quick wit +had enabled her to make use of that telephone. + +Shouldering the receiver out of the hook, she had called Betty's number, +and, with Genevieve stooping to listen at the dangling receiver, had called +out two or three broken sentences. + +Guarded as their voices had been, however, some one in the house had been +attracted by them, and the wire had been cut at some point outside the +room. E. Eliot and Genevieve came to this conclusion after having lost +Betty and failed to raise any answer to their repeated calls. Somebody came +and looked in at them through the half-open door, and, seeing them still +bound, had gone away again with a short, contemptuous laugh. + +"No matter," said E. Eliot. "Betty heard us, and the central office will be +able to trace the call." + +It was because she could depend on Betty's intelligence, she went on to +say, that she had called her instead of the Remington house--for suppose +that fool Brewster-Smith woman had come to the telephone! + +She and Genevieve occupied themselves with their bonds, fumbling back to +back for a while, until Genevieve had a brilliant idea. Kneeling, she bit +at the cords which held Miss Eliot's wrists until they began to give. + + * * * * * + +What Betty had done intelligently was nothing to what she had done without +meaning it. She had been unkind to Pudge. Young Sheridan was in a condition +which, according to his own way of looking at it, demanded the utmost +kindness. + +Following a too free indulgence in _marrons glaces_ he had been relegated +to a diet that reduced him to the extremity of desperation. + +Not only had he been forbidden to eat sweets, but while his soul still +longed for its accustomed solace, his stomach refused it, and he was unable +to eat a box of candied fruit which he had with the greatest ingenuity +secured. + +And that was the occasion Betty took--herself full of nervous starts and +mysterious recourse to the telephone behind locked doors--to remind him +cruelly that he was getting flabby from staying too much in the house and +to recommend a long walk for his good. + +It was plain that she would stick at nothing to get her brother out of the +way, and Pudge was cut to the heart. + +Oh, well, he would go for a walk, from which he would probably be brought +home a limp and helpless cripple. Come to think of it, if he once got +started to walk he was not sure he would ever turn back; he would just walk +on and on into a kinder environment than this. + +After all, it is impossible to walk in that fateful way in a crowded city +thoroughfare. Besides, one passes so many confectioners with their mingled +temptation and disgust. Pudge rode on the trolley as far as the city +limits. Here there was softer ground underfoot and a hint of melancholy in +the fields. A flock of crows going over gave the appropriate note. + +Off there to the left, set back from the road among dark, crowding trees, +stood a mysterious house. Pudge always insisted that he had known it for +mysterious at the first glance. It had a mansard roof and shutters of a +sickly green, all closed; there was not a sign of life about, but smoke +issued from one of the chimneys. + +Here was an item potent to raise the sleuth that slumbers in every boy, +even in such well-cushioned bosoms as Pudge Sheridan's. + +He paused in his walk, fell into an elaborately careless slouch, and tacked +across the open country toward the back of the house. Here he discovered a +considerable yard fenced with high boards that had once been painted the +same sickly green as the shutters, and a great buckeye tree just outside, +spreading its branches over the corner furthest from the house. + +Toward this post of observation he was drifting with that fine assumption +of aimlessness which can be managed on occasion by almost any boy, when he +was arrested by a slight but unmistakable shaking of one of the shutters, +as though some one from within were trying the fastenings. + +The shaking stopped after a moment, and then, one after another, the slats +of the double leaves were seen to turn and close as though for a secret +survey of the field. After a moment or two this performance was repeated at +the next window on the left, and finally at a third. + +Here the shaking was resumed after the survey, and ended with the shutter +opening with a snap and being caught back from within and held cautiously +on the crack. Pudge kicked clods in his path and was pretentiously occupied +with a dead beetle which he had picked up. + +All at once something flickered across the ground at his feet, swung two or +three times, touched his shoe, traveled up the length of his trousers and +rested on his breast. How that bosom leaped to the adventure! + +He fished hurriedly in his pocket and brought up a small round mirror. It +had still attached to its rim a bit of the ribbon by which it had been +fastened to his sister's shopping bag, from which, if the truth must be +told, he had surreptitiously detached it. + +Pretending to consult it, as though it were some sort of pocket oracle, +Pudge flashed back, and presently had the satisfaction of seeing a +bright fleck of light travel across the shutter. Immediately there was +a responsive flicker from the window: one, two, three, he counted, and +flashed back: one, two, three. + +Pudge's whole being was suffused with delicious thrills. He wished now he +had obeyed that oft-experienced presentiment and learned the Morse code; it +was a thing no man destined for adventure should be without. This wordless +interchange went on for a few moments, and then a hand, a woman's hand--O +fair, imprisoned ladies of all time!--appeared cautiously at the open +shutter, waved and pointed. + +It pointed toward the buckeye tree. Pudge threw a stone in that direction +and sauntered after it, pitching and throwing. Once at the corner, after a +suitable exhibition of casualness, he climbed until he found himself higher +than the fence, facing the house. + +While he was thus occupied, things had been happening there. The shutter +had been thrown back and a woman was climbing down by the help of a window +ledge below and a pair of knotted window curtains. + +Another woman prepared to follow her, gesticulating forcibly to the other +not to wait, but to run. Run she did, but it was not until Pudge, lying +full length on the buckeye bough, reached her a hand that he discovered her +to be his sister's friend, Genevieve Remington. + +In the interval of her scrambling up by the aid of the bent bough and such +help as he could give her, they had neglected to observe the other woman. +Now, as Mrs. Remington's heels drummed on the outside of the fence, Pudge +was aware of some commotion in the direction of the house, and saw Miss +Eliot running toward him, crying: "Run, run!" while two men pursued her. +She made a desperate jump toward the tree, caught the branch, hung for +a moment, lost her hold, and brought Pudge ignominiously down in a heap +beside her. + +If Miss Eliot had not contradicted it, Pudge would have believed to his +dying day that bullets hurtled through the air; it was so necessary to +the dramatic character of the adventure that there should be bullets. +He recovered from the shock of his fall in time to hear Miss Eliot say: +"Better not touch me, Mike; if there's so much as a bruise when my friends +find me, you'll get sent up for it." + +Her cool, even tones cut the man's stream of profanity like a knife. He +came threateningly close to her, but refrained from laying hands on either +of them. + +Meantime his companion drew himself up to the top of the fence for a look +over, and dropped back with a gesture intended to be reassuring. Pudge rose +gloriously to the occasion. + +"The others have gone back to call the police," he announced. Mike spat out +an oath at him, but it was easy to see that he was not at all sure that +this might not be the case. The possibility that it might be, checked +a movement to pursue the fleeing Genevieve. Miss Eliot caught their +indecision with a flying shaft. + +"Mrs. George Remington," she said, "will probably be in communication with +her friends very shortly. And between his wife and his old and dear friend +Mike it won't take George Remington long to choose." + +This was so obvious that it left the men nothing to say. They fell in +surlily on either side of her, and without any show of resistance she +walked calmly back toward the house. Pudge lingered, uncertain of his cue. + +"Beat it, you putty-face!" Mike snarled at him, showing a yellow fang. "If +you ain't off the premises in about two shakes, you'll get what's comin' to +you. See?" + +Pudge walked with as much dignity as he could muster in the direction +of the public road. He could see nothing of Mrs. Remington in either +direction; now and then a private motor whizzed by, but there was no other +house near enough to suggest a possibility of calling for help. + +He concealed himself in a group of black locusts and waited. In about half +an hour he heard a car coming from the house with the mansard roof, and saw +that it held three occupants, two men and a woman. The men he recognized, +and he was certain that the woman, though she was well bundled up, was +not E. Eliot. + +The motor turned away from the town and disappeared in the opposite +direction. Pudge surmised that Mike was making his getaway. He waited +another half hour and began to be assailed by the pangs of hunger. The +house gave no sign; even the smoke from the chimney stopped. + +He was sure Miss Eliot was still there; imagination pictured her weltering +in her own gore. Between fear and curiosity and the saving hope that there +might be food of some sort in the house, Pudge left his hiding place and +began a stealthy approach. + +He came to the low stoop and crept up to the closed front door. Hovering +between fear and courage, he knocked. But there was no response. With +growing boldness he tried the door. It was locked. + +The rear door also was bolted; but, creeping on, he found a high side +window that the keepers of this prison in their hasty flight had forgotten +to close. With the aid of an empty rain barrel, which he overturned and +rolled into position, Pudge scrambled with much hard breathing through +the window and dropped into the kitchen. Here he listened; his ears could +discern no sound. On tiptoe he crept through the rooms of the first +floor--but came upon neither furtive enemy nor imprisoned friend. Up the +narrow stairway he crept--peeped into three bedrooms--and finally opening +the door of what was evidently a storeroom, he found the object of his +search. + +E. Eliot sat in an old splint-bottomed chair--gagged, arms tied behind her +and to the chair's back, and her ankles tied to the chair's legs. In a +moment Pudge had the knotted towel out of her mouth, and had cut her bonds. +But quick though Pudge was, to her he seemed intolerably slow; just then E. +Eliot was thinking of only one thing. + +This was the final afternoon of the campaign and she was away out here, far +from all the great things that might be going on. + +She gave a single stretch of her cramped muscles as she rose. "I know +you--you're Betty Sheridan's brother--thanks," she said briskly. "What time +is it?" + +Pudge drew out his most esteemed possession, a watch which kept perfect +time--except when it refused to keep any time at all. + +"Three o'clock," he announced. + +"Then our last demonstration is under way, and when I tell my story--" E. +Eliot interrupted herself. "Come on--let's catch the trolley!" + +With Pudge panting after her, she hurried downstairs, unbolted the door, +and, running lightly on the balls of her feet, sped in the direction of the +street car line. + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +BY LEROY SCOTT + + +In the meantime, concern and suspense and irruptive wrath had their chief +abode in the inner room of Remington and Evans. George had received a +request, through Penny Evans, from the chief of police to remain in his +office, where he could be reached instantly if information concerning +Genevieve were received, and where his help could instantly be secured were +it required; and Penny had enlarged that request to the magnitude of a +command and had stood by to see that it was obeyed, and himself to give +assistance. + +George had recognized the sense of the order, but he rebelled at the +enforced inactivity. Where was Genevieve?--why wasn't he out doing +something for her? He strode about the office, fuming, sick with the +suspense and inaction of his role. + +But Genevieve was not his unbroken concern. He was still afire with the +high resentment which a few hours earlier had made him go striding into the +office of the _Sentinel_. Fragments of his statement to the editor leaped +into his mind; and as he strode up and down he repeated phrases silently, +but with fierce emphasis of the soul. + +Now and again he paused at his window and looked down into Main Street. +Below him was a crowd that was growing in size and disorder: the last +afternoon of any campaign in Whitewater was exciting enough; much more so +were the final hours of this campaign that marked the first entrance of +women into politics in Whitewater on a scale and with an organized energy +that might affect the outcome of the morrow's voting. + +Across the way, Mrs. Herrington, the fighting blood of five generations +of patriots roused in her, had reinstated the Voiceless Speech within the +plate-glass window broken by the stones of that morning and was herself +operating it; and, armed with banners, groups of women from the Woman's +Club, the Municipal League and the Suffrage Society were marching up and +down the street sidewalks. It was their final demonstration, their last +chance to assert the demands of good citizenship--and it had attracted +hundreds of curious men, vote-owners, belonging to what, in such periods of +political struggle, are referred to on platforms as "our better element." + +Also drifting into Main Street were groups of voters of less prepossessing +aspect--Noonan's men, George recognized them to be. These jeered and +jostled the marching women and hooted the remarks of the Voiceless +Speech--but the women, disregarding insults and attacks, went on with their +silent campaigning. The feeling was high--and George could see, as Noonan's +men kept drifting into Main Street, that feeling was growing higher. + +Looking down, George felt an angered exultation. Well, his statement in the +_Sentinel_, due upon the street almost any moment, would answer all these +and give them something to think about!--a statement which would make an +even greater stir than the declaration which he had issued those many weeks +ago, when, fresh from his honeymoon, he had begun his campaign for the +district attorneyship.--[Illustration: Across the way, Mrs. Herrington, +the fighting blood of five generations of patriots roused in her, had +reinstated the Voiceless Speech.] These people below certainly had a +jolt coming to them! + +George's impatient and glowering meditations--the hour was then near +four--were broken in upon by several interruptions, which came on him in +quick succession, as though detonated by brief-interval time-fuses. The +first was the entrance of that straw-haired misspeller of his letters who +had succeeded Betty Sheridan as guardian of the outer office. + +"Mr. Doolittle is here," she announced. "He says he wants to see you." + +"You tell Mr. Doolittle _I_ don't want to see _him_!" commanded the +irritated George. + +But Mr. Benjamin Doolittle was already seeing his candidate. As political +boss of his party, he had little regard for such a formality as being +announced to any person on whom he might call--so he had walked through the +open door. + +"Well, what d'you want, Doolittle?" George demanded aggressively. + +Mr. Doolittle's face wore that look of bland solicitude, that unobtrusive +partnership in the misfortune of others, which had made him such an +admirable and prosperous officiant at the last rites of residents of +Whitewater. + +"I just wanted to ask you, George--" he was beginning in his soft, +lily-of-the-valley voice, when the telephone on George's desk started +ringing. George turned and reached for it, to find that Penny had already +picked up the instrument. + +"I'll answer it, George.... Hello... Mr. Remington is here, but is busy; +I'll speak for him--I'm Mr. Evans.... What--it's you! Where are you?... +Stay where you are; I'll come right over for you in my car." + +"Who was that?" demanded George. + +"Genevieve," Penny said rapidly, seizing his hat, "and I'm going----" + +"So am I!" exclaimed George. + +"Not till we've had a little understanding," sharply put in Doolittle, +blocking his way. + +"Stay here, George," his partner snapped out--"she's perfectly safe--just +a little out of breath--telephoned from a drug store over in the Red-field +district. I'll have her back here in fifteen minutes." And out Penny +dashed, slamming the door. + +But perhaps it was the straw-haired successor of Betty Sheridan who really +prevented George from plunging after his partner. + +"You ordered the _Sentinel_ sent up as soon as it was out," she said. "Here +are six copies." + +George seized the ink-damp papers, and as the straw-haired one walked out +in rubber-heeled silence he turned savagely upon his campaign manager. + +"Well, Doolittle?" he demanded. + +"I just want to ask you, George----" + +George exploded. "Oh, you just want to ask me! Well, everything you want to +ask me is answered in that paper. Read it!" + +Doolittle took the copy of the _Sentinel_ which was thrust into his hands. +George watched him with triumphant grimness, awaiting the effect of the +bomb about to explode in the other's face. Mr. Doolittle unfolded the +_Sentinel_--looked it slowly through--then raised his eyes to George. His +face seemed somewhat puzzled, but otherwise it was overspread with that +sympathetic concern which, as much as his hearse and his folding-chairs, +was a part of his professional equipment. + +"Why, George. I don't just get what you're driving at." + +Forgetting that he was holding several copies of the Sentinel, George +dropped them all upon the floor and seized the paper from Mr. Doolittle. He +glanced swiftly over the first page--and experienced the highest voltage +shock of his young public career. Feverishly he skimmed the remaining +pages. But of all that he had poured out in the office of the _Sentinel_, +not one word was in print. + +Automatically clutching the paper in a hand that fell to his side, he +stared blankly at his campaign manager. Mr. Doolittle gazed back with his +air of sympathetic concern, bewildered questioning in his eyes. And for a +space, despite the increasing uproar down in the street, there was a most +perfect silence in the inner office of Remington and Evans. + +Before either of the two men could speak, the door was violently flung open +and Martin Jaffry appeared. His clothing was disarranged, his manner +agitated--in striking contrast to the dapper and composed appearance usual +to that middle-aged little gentleman. + +"George," he panted, "heard anything about Genevieve?" + +"She's safe. Penny's got charge of her by this time." + +His answer was almost mechanical. + +"Thank God!" Uncle Martin collapsed in one of the office chairs. "Mind--if +sit here minute--get my breath." + +George did not reply, for he had not heard. He was gazing steadily at Mr. +Doolittle; some great, but as yet shapeless, force was surging up dazingly +within him. But he somehow held himself in control. + +"Well, Doolittle," he demanded, "you said you came to ask something." + +Mr. Doolittle's manner was still propitiatingly bland. "I'll mention +something else first, George, if you don't mind. You just remarked I'd find +your answer in the _Sentinel_. There must 'a' been some little slip-up +somewhere. So I guess I better mention first that the _Sentinel_ has +arranged to stand ready to get out an extra." + +"An extra! What for?" + +"Principally, George, I reckon to print those answers you just spoke of." + +George still kept that mounting something under his control. "Answers to +what?" + +"Why, George," the other replied softly, persuasively. "I guess we'd better +have a little chat--as man to man--about politics. Meaning no offense, +George, stalling is all right in politics--but this time you've carried +this stalling act a little too far. As the result of your tactics, George, +why here's all this disorder in our streets--and the afternoon before +election. If you'd only really tried to stop these messing women----" + +"I didn't try to stop them by kidnapping them!" burst from George--and +Uncle Martin, his breath recovered, now sat up, clutching his homespun cap. + +"Kidnapping women?" queried the bland, bewildered voice of the party boss. +"I say, George, I don't know what you're talking about." "Why, you--" But +George caught himself. "Speak it out, Doolittle--what do you want?" + +"Since you ask it so frankly, George, I'll try to put it plain: You been +going along handing out high-sounding generalities. There's nothing better +and safer than generalities--usually. But this ain't no usual case, George. +These women, stirring everything up, have got the solid interests so +unsettled that they don't know where they're at--or where you're at. And a +lot of boys in the organization feel the same way. What the crisis needs, +George, is a plain statement of your intentions as district attorney, +which we can get into that _Sentinel_ extra and which will reassure the +public--and the organization." + +"A plain statement?" There was a grim set to George's jaw. + +"Oh, it needn't go into too many details. Just what you might call a +ringing declaration about this being the greatest era of prosperity +Whitewater has ever known, and that you conceive it to be the duty of your +administration to protect and stimulate this prosperity. The people will +understand, and the organization will understand. I guess you get what I +mean, George." + +"Yes, I get what you mean!" exploded George, his fist crashing upon the +table. "You mean you want me to be a complacent accessory to all the legal +evasions that you and your political gang and the rich bunch behind you +may want to get away with! You want me to be a crook in office! By God, +Doolittle----" + +"Shut up, Remington," snapped the political boss, his soft manner now +vanished, his whole aspect now grimly menacing. "I know the rest of what +you're going to say. I was pretty certain what it 'ud be before I came +here, but I had to know for sure. Well, I know now, all right!" + +His lank jaws snapped again. + +"Since you are not going to represent the people that put you up, I demand +your written withdrawal as candidate for the district attorney's office." + +"And I refuse to give it!" cried George. "I was nominated by a convention, +not by you. And I don't believe the party is as crooked as you--anyhow I'm +going to give the decent members of the party a chance to vote decently! +And you can't remove me from the ballot, either, for the ballot is already +printed and----" + +"That'll do you no----" + +"I thought some time ago I was through with this political mess," George +drove on. "But, Doolittle, damn you, I've just begun to get in it! And I'm +going to see it through to the finish!" + +Suddenly a thin little figure thrust itself between the bellicose pair and +began shaking George's hand. It was Martin Jaffry. + +"George--I guess I'm my share of an old scoundrel--and a trimmer--but +hearing some one stand up and talk man's talk--" He broke off to shake +George's hand again. "I thought you were the king of boobs--but, boy, I'm +with you to wherever you want to go--if my money will last that far!" + +"Keep out of this, Jaffry," roughly growled Doolittle. "It's too late for +your dough to help this young pup. Remington, we may not take you off the +ballot, but the organization kin send out word to the boys----" + +"To knife me! Of course, I expect that! All right--go to it! But I'm on +the ballot--you can't deprive people of the chance of voting for me. And I +shall announce myself an independent and shall run as one!" + +"We may not be able to elect our own nominee," harshly continued Doolittle, +"but we kin send out word to back the Democratic candidate. Miller ain't +much, but, at least, he's a soft man. And that _Sentinel_ extra is going +to say that a feeling has spread among the respectable element that it has +lost confidence in you, and is going to say that prominent party members +feel the party has made a mistake in ever putting you up. So run, damn +you--run as a Democrat, a Republican, an Independent--but how are you going +to git it across to the public in a way to do yourself any good--without +backing? How are you going to git it across to the public?" + +His last words, flung out with overmastering fury, brought George up short, +and he saw this. Doolittle's wrath had mounted to that pitch which should +never be reached by the resentment of a practical politician; it had +attained such force that it drove him on to taunt his man. "How are you +going to git it before the public?" he again demanded, eyes agleam with +triumphant rancor--"with us shutting you off and hammering you on one +side?--and them damned messy women across the street hammering you from the +other side? Oh, it's a grand chance you have--one little old grand chance! +Especially with those dear damned females loving you like they do! Jest +take a look at what the bunch over there are doing to you!" + +Doolittle followed his own taunting suggestion; and George, too, glanced +through his window across the crowded street into the shattered window +whence issued the Voiceless Speech. In that jagged frame in the raw +November air still stood Mrs. Harvey Herrington, turning the giant leaves +of her soundless oratory. The heckling request which then struck George's +eyes began: "_Will Candidate Remington answer_----" + +George Remington read no more. His already tense figure suddenly stiffened; +he caught a sharp breath. Then, without a word to the two men with him, +he seized his hat and dashed from his office. The street was even more a +turbulent human sea, with violently twisting eddies, than had appeared from +George's windows. It seemed that every member of the organizations whom +Mrs. Herrington (and also Betty Sheridan, and later E. Eliot, and, at the +last, Genevieve) had brought into this fight, were now downtown for the +supreme effort. And it seemed that there were now more of the so-called +"better citizens." Certainly there were more of Noonan's men, and these +were still elbowing and jostling, and making little mass rushes--yet +otherwise holding themselves ominously in control. + +Into this milling assemblage George flung himself, so dominated by the +fiery urge within him that he did not hear Genevieve call to him from +Penny's car, which just then swung around the corner and came to a sharp +stop on the skirts of the crowd. George shouldered his way irresistibly +through this mass; the methods of his football days when he had been famed +as a line-plunging back instinctively returned--and, all the fine chivalry +forgotten which had given to his initial statement to the voters of +Whitewater so noble a sound, he battered aside many of those "fairest +flowers of our civilization, to protect whom it is man's duty and +inspiration." + +His lunging progress followed by curses and startled cries of feminine +indignation, he at length emerged upon the opposite sidewalk, and, +breathless and disheveled, he burst into the headquarters of the Voiceless +Speech. + +Some half-dozen of Mrs. Herrington's assistants cried out at his abrupt +entrance. Mrs. Herrington, forward beside the speech, turned quickly about. + +"Mr. Remington, you here!" she cried in amazement as he strode toward her. +"What--what do you want?" + +"I want--I want--" gasped George. But instead of finishing his sentence he +elbowed Mrs. Herrington out of the way, shoved past her, and stepped forth +in front of the Voiceless Speech. There, standing in the frame of jagged +plate-glass, upon what was equivalent to a platform raised above the crowd, +he sent forth a speech which had a voice. "Ladies and gentlemen!" he +called, raising an imperative hand. The uproar subsided to numerous +exclamations, then to surprised silence; even Noonan's men checked their +disorder at this appearance of their party's candidate. + +"Ladies and gentlemen," and this Voiceful Speech was loud,--"I'm here to +answer the questions of this contrivance behind me. But first let me tell +you that though I'm on the ballot as the candidate of the Republican party, +I do not want the backing of the Republican machine. I'm running as an +Independent, and I shall act as an Independent. + +"Here are my answers: + +"I want to tell you that I shall enforce all the factory laws. + +"I want to tell you that I shall enforce the laws governing housing +conditions--particularly housing conditions in the factory district. + +"I want to tell you that I shall enforce the laws governing child labor and +the laws governing the labor of women. + +"And I want to tell you that I shall enforce every other law, and shall try +to secure the passage of further laws, which will make Whitewater a clean, +forward-looking city, whose first consideration shall be the welfare of +all. + +"And, ladies and gentlemen--" he shouted, for the hushed voices had begun +to rise--"I wish I could address you all as fellow-voters!--I want to tell +you that I take back that foolish statement I made at the opening of the +campaign. + +"I want to tell you that I stand for, and shall fight for, equal suffrage! + +"And I want to tell you that what has brought this change is what some of +the women of White-water have shown me--and also some of the things our men +politicians have done--our Doolittles, our Noonans----" + +But George's speech terminated right there. Noise there had been before; +now there burst out an uproar, and there came an artillery attack of eggs, +vegetables, stones and bricks. One of the bricks struck George on the +shoulder and drove him staggering back against the Voiceless Speech, +sending that instrument of silent argument crashing to the floor. Regaining +his balance, George started furiously back for the window; but Mrs. +Herrington caught his arm. + +"Let me go!" he called, trying to shake her off. + +But she held on. "Don't--you've said enough!" she cried, and pulled him +toward the rear of the room. "Look!" + +Through the window was coming a heavier fire of impromptu grenades that +rolled, spent, at their feet. But what they saw without was far more +stirring and important. Noonan's men in the crowd, their hoodlumism now +unleashed, were bowling over the people about them; but these really +constituted Noonan's outposts and advance guards. + +From out of two side streets, though George and Mrs. Herrington could not +see their first appearance upon the scene, Noonan's real army now came +charging into Main Street, as per that gentleman's grim instructions to +"show them messin' women what it means to mess in politics." Hundreds of +Whitewater's women were flung about, many sent sprawling to the pavement, +and some hundreds of the city's most respectable voters, caught unawares, +were hustled about and knocked down by the same ruthless drive. + +"My God!" cried George, impulsively starting forward. "The damned brutes!" + +But Mrs. Herrington still held his arm. "Come on--they're making a drive +for this office!" breathlessly cried the quick-minded lady. "You can do no +good here. Out the rear way--my car's waiting in the back street." + +Still clutching his sleeve, Mrs. Herrington opened a door and ran across +the back yard of McMonigal's building in a manner which indicated that that +lady had not spent her college years (and similarly spent the years since +then propped among embroidered cushions consuming marshmallows and fudge.) + +The lot crossed, she hurried through a little grocery and thence into the +street. Here they ran into a party that, seeing the riot on Main Street +and the drive upon the window from which George had spoken, had rushed up +reinforcements from the rear--a party consisting of Penny, E. Eliot, Betty +Sheridan and Genevieve. "Genevieve!" cried George, and caught her into his +arms. + +"Oh, George," she choked. "I--I heard it all--and it--it was simply +wonderful!" + +"George," cried Betty Sheridan, "I always knew, if you got the right kind +of a jolt, you'd be--you'd be what you are!" + +E. Eliot gripped his hand in a clasp almost as strong as George's arm. "Mr. +Remington, if I were a man, I'd like to have the same sort of stuff in me." + +"George, you old roughneck--" began Penny. + +"George," interrupted Genevieve, still chokingly, her protective, wifely +instinct now at the fore, "I saw you hit, and we're going to take you +straight home----" + +"Cut it all out," interrupted the cultured Mrs. Herrington. "This isn't Mr. +Remington's honeymoon--nor his college reunion--nor the annual convention +of his maiden aunts. This is Mr. Remington's campaign, and I'm his new +campaign manager. And his campaign manager says he's not going away out to +his home on Sheridan Road. His campaign headquarters are going to be in +the center of town, at the Commercial Hotel, where he can be reached--for +there's quick work ahead of us. Come on." + +Five minutes later they were all in the Commercial Hotel's best suite. + +"Now, to business, Mr. Remington," briskly began Mrs. Herrington. "Of +course, that was a good speech. But why, in heaven's name, didn't you come +out with it before?" + +"I guess I really didn't know where I stood until today," confessed George, +"and today I tried to come out with it." + +And George went on to recount his experience with the _Sentinel_--his scene +with Doolittle--and Doolittle's plan for an extra of the Sentinel, which +was doubtless then in preparation. + +"So they've got the _Sentinel_ muzzled, have they--and are going to get out +an extra repudiating you," Mrs. Herrington repeated. There came a flash +into her quick, dark eyes. "I want our candidate to stay right here--rest +up--get his thoughts in order. There are a lot of things to be done. I'll +be back in an hour, Mr. Remington. The rest of you come along--you, too, +Mrs. Remington." + +Mrs. Herrington did not altogether keep her word in the matter of time. It +was two hours before she was back. To George she handed a bundle of papers, +remarking: "Thought you'd like to see that _Sentinel_ extra." + +"I suppose Doolittle has done his worst," he remarked grimly. He glanced at +the paper. His face went loose with bewilderment at what he saw--headlines, +big black headlines, bigger and blacker than he had ever before seen in the +politically and typographically conservative _Sentinel_. He read through a +few lines of print, then looked up. + +"Why, it's all here!" he gasped. "The kidnapping of Miss Eliot and +Genevieve by Noonan's men--my break with Doolittle, my denunciation of the +party's methods, my coming out as an independent candidate--that riot on +Main Street! How on earth did that ever get into the _Sentinel_?" + +"Some straight talk, and quick talk, and the exercise of a little of the +art of pressure they say you men exercise," was the prompt reply. "I +telephoned Mr. Ledbetter of the _Sentinel_ advising him to hold the extra +Mr. Doolittle had threatened until he heard from Mr. Wesley Norton, +proprietor of the Norton Dry Goods Store. You know, Mr. Norton is the +_Sentinel_'s largest single advertiser and president of the Whitewater +Business Men's Club. + +"Then a committee of us women called on Mr. Norton and told him that we'd +organize the women of the city and would carry on a boycott campaign +against his store--we didn't really put it quite as crudely as that--unless +he'd force the _Sentinel_ to stop Mr. Doolittle's lying extra and print +your statement. + +"Mr. Norton gave in, and telephoned the _Sentinel_ that if it didn't do as +he said he'd cancel his advertising contract. Then, to make sure, we got +hold of Mr. Jaffry, called on Mr. Ledbetter, who called in the business +manager--and your Uncle Martin told them that unless they printed the +truth, and every bit of it, and printed it at once, he was going to put up +the money to start an opposition paper that _would print the truth_. +That explains the extra." "Well," ejaculated George, still staring, "you +certainly are a wonder as a campaign manager!" + +"Oh, I only did my fraction. That Miss Eliot did as much as I--she's a +find--she's going to be one of Whitewater's really big women. And Betty +Sheridan, you can't guess how Betty's worked--and your wife, Mr. Remington, +she's turning out to be a marvel! + +"But that's not all," Mrs. Herrington continued rapidly. "We bought ten +thousand copies of that extra for ourselves--your uncle paid for them--and +we're going to distribute them in every home in town. When the best element +in Whitewater read how the women were trampled down by Noonan's mob--well, +they'll know how to vote! Mr. Noonan will never guess how much he has +helped us." + +"You seem to have left nothing for me to do," said George. + +"You'll find out there'll be all you'll want," replied the brisk Mrs. +Herrington. "We're organizing meetings--one in every hall in the city, one +on almost every other street corner, and we're going to rush you from one +to the next--most of the night--and there'll be no letup for you tomorrow, +even if it is election day. Yes, you'll find there'll be plenty to do!" + +The next twenty-four hours were the busiest that George Remington had ever +known in his twenty-six years. + +But at nine o'clock the next evening it was over--the tumult and the +shouting and the congratulations--and all were gone save only Martin +Jaffry; and District-Attorney-Elect Remington sat in his hotel suite alone +in the bosom of his family. + +He was still dazed by what had happened to him--at the part he had +unexpectedly played--dazed by the intense but well-ordered activity of +the women: their management of his whirlwind tour of the city; their +organization of parades with amazing swiftness; their rapid and complete +house-to-house canvass--the work of Mrs. Herrington, of Betty, of that +Miss Eliot, of hundreds of women--and especially of Genevieve. He marveled +especially at Genevieve because he had never thought of Genevieve as doing +such things. But she _had_ done them--he felt that somehow she was a +different Genevieve: he didn't know what the difference was--he was in too +much of a whirl for analysis--but he had an undefined sense of _aliveness_, +of a spirited, joyous initiative in her. + +She and all the rest seemed so strange as to be unbelievable. And yet, +she--and all of it--true!... + +From dramatic events and intangible qualities of the spirit, his +consciousness shifted to material things--his immediate surroundings. +Not till this blessed moment of relaxation did he become aware of the +discomforts of this suite--nor did Genevieve fully appreciate the +flamboyantly flowered maroon wall-paper and the jig-saw furniture. + +"George,"' she sighed, "now that you're not needed down here, can't we go +home?" + +"Home!" The word came out half snort, half growl--hardly the tone becoming +one whose triumph was so exultingly fresh. With a jar he had come back to a +present which he fully understood. "Damn home! I haven't any home!" + +Genevieve stared. Uncle Martin snickered, for Uncle Martin had the gift of +understanding. + +"You mean those flowers of womanhood whom chivalrous man----" + +"Shut up," commanded George. He thought for a brief space; then his jaw +set. "Excuse me a moment." + +Drawing hotel stationery toward him, he scribbled rapidly and then sealed +and addressed what he had written. + +"Uncle Martin, your car's outside doing nothing; would you mind going on +ahead and giving this little note to Cousin Alys Brewster-Smith, and then +staying around and having a little supper with Genevieve and me? We'll be +out soon, but there are a few things I want to talk over with Genevieve +alone before we come." + +Uncle Martin would oblige. But when he had gone, there seemed to be nothing +of pressing importance that George had to communicate to Genevieve. Nor +half an hour later, when he led his bride of four months up to their home, +had he delivered himself of anything which seemed to require privacy. + +As they stepped up on the porch, softly lighted by a frosted bulb in its +ceiling, Cousin Emelene, her cat under her arm, came out of the front door +and hurried past them, without speech. + +"Why, Cousin Emelene!" George called after her. + +She paused and half turned. + +"You--you--" she half choked upon expletives that would not come forth. +"The man will come for my trunks in the morning." Thrusting a handkerchief +to her face, she hurried away. + +"George, what can have happened to her?" cried the amazed Genevieve. + +But George was saved answering her just then. Another figure had emerged +from the front door--a rather largish figure, all in black--her left hand +clutching the right hand of a child, aged, possibly, five. And this figure +did not cower and hurry away. This figure halted, and glowered. + +"George Remington," exclaimed Cousin Alys, "after your invitation--you--you +apostate to chivalry! That outrageous letter! But if I am leaving your +home, thank God I'm leaving it for a home of my own! Come on, Martin!" + +With that she stalked away, dragging the sleepy Eleanor. + +Not till then did George and Genevieve become aware that Uncle Martin +was before them, having until now been obscured by Mrs. Brewster-Smith's +outraged amplitude. His arms were loaded with coats, obviously feminine. + +"Uncle Martin!" exclaimed George. + +"George," gulped his uncle--"George--" And then he gained control of a +dazed sort of speech. "When I gave her that letter I didn't know it was +a letter of eviction. And the way she broke down before me--a woman, you +know--I--I--well, George, it's my home she's going to." + +"You don't mean----" + +"Yes, George, that's just what I mean. Though, of course, I'm taking her +back now to Mrs. Gallup's boarding-house until--until--good-night, George; +good-night, Genevieve." The little man went staggering down the walk +with his burden of wraps; and after a minute there came the sound of his +six-cylinder roadster buzzing away into the darkness. + +"I didn't tell 'em they had to go tonight," said George doggedly. "But I +did remark that even if every woman had a right to a home, every woman +didn't have the right to make my home her home. Anyhow," his tone becoming +softer, "I've at last got a home of my own. Our own," he corrected. + +He took her in his arms. "And, sweetheart--it's a better home than when we +first came to it, for now I've got more sense. Now it is a home in which +each of us has the right to think and be what we please." + + * * * * * + +At just about this same hour just about this same scene was being enacted +upon another front porch in Whitewater--there being the slight difference +that this second porch was not softly illuminated by any frosted globule of +incandescence. Up the three steps leading to this second porch Mr. Penfield +Evans had that moment escorted Miss Elizabeth Sheridan. + +"Good-night, Penny," she said. + +He caught her by her two shoulders. + +"See here, Betty--the last twenty-four hours have been mighty busy +hours--too busy even to talk about ourselves. But now--see here, you're not +going to get away with any rough work like that. Come across, now. Will +you?" + +"Will I what?" + +"Say, how long do you think you're a paid-up subscriber to this little +daily speech of mine?... Well, if I've got to hand you another copy, here +goes. You promised me, on your word of honor, if George swung around for +suffrage, you'd swing around for me. Well, George has come around. Not that +I had much to do with it--but he surely did come around! Now, the point +is, Miss Betty Sheridan, are you a woman of your promise--are you going to +marry me?" + +"Well, if you try to put it that way, demanding your pound of flesh----" +"One hundred and twenty pounds," corrected Penny. + +"I'll say that, of course, I don't love you, but I guess a promise is a +promise--and--and--" And suddenly a pair of strong young arms were flung +about the neck of Mr. Penfield Evans. "Oh, I'm so happy, Penny dear!" + +"Betty!" + +After that there was a long silence ... silence broken only by that softly +sibilant detonation which belongs most properly to the month of June, +but confines itself to no season ... to a long, long silence born of and +blessed by the gods ... until one Percival Sheridan, coming stealthily home +from a late debauch at Humphrey's drug store, and mounting the steps in +the tennis sneakers which were his invariable wear on dry and non-state +occasions, bumped into the invisible and unhearing couple. + +"Say, there--" gasped the startled youth, backing away. + +Betty gave an affrighted cry--it was a long swift journey down from where +she had just been. Her right hand, reaching drowningly out, fell upon a +familiar shoulder. + +"It's Pudge!" she cried. "Pudge"--shaking him--"snooping around, listening +and trying to spy----" + +"You stop that--it ain't so!" protested the outraged Pudge, his utterance +throttled down somewhat by the chocolate cream in his mouth. + +"Spying on people! And, besides, you've been stuffing yourself with candy +again! You're ruining your stomach with that sticky sweet stuff--you're +headed straight for a candy-fiend's grave. Now, you go upstairs and to +bed!" + +She jerked him toward the door, opened it, and as he was thrust through +the door Pudge felt something, something warm, press impulsively against a +cheek. Not until the door had closed upon him did he realize what Betty had +done to him. He stood dazed for a moment--unbalanced between impulses. Then +the sturdy maleness of fourteen rewon its dominance. + +"Guess I know what they was doing, all right--aw, wouldn't it make you +sick!" And, in disgust which another chocolate cream alleviated hardly at +all, he mounted to his bed. + +Outside there was again silence ... faintly disturbed only by that softly +sibilant, almost muted percussion which recalls inevitably the month of +June.... + +THE END + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Sturdy Oak, by Samuel Merwin + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STURDY OAK *** + +This file should be named 7soak10.txt or 7soak10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, 7soak11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, 7soak10a.txt + +Produced by Eric Eldred, David Widger +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: The Sturdy Oak + A composite Novel of American Politics by fourteen American authors + +Author: Samuel Merwin + +Release Date: July, 2005 [EBook #8435] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on July 10, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-Latin-1 + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STURDY OAK *** + + + + +Produced by Eric Eldred, David Widger +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + + + +[Illustration] THE STURDY OAK + +A composite Novel of American Politics by fourteen American authors: + +SAMUEL MERWIN +HARRY LEON WILSON +FANNIE HURST +DOROTHY CANFIELD +KATHLEEN NORRIS +HENRY KITCHELL WEBSTER +ANNE O'HAGAN +MARY HEATON VORSE +ALICE DUER MILLER +ETHEL WATTS MUMFORD +MARJORIE BENTON COOKE +WILLIAM ALLEN WHITE +MARY AUSTIN +LEROY SCOTT + + +THEME BY MARY AUSTIN + +The chapters collected and (very cautiously) edited by ELIZABETH JORDAN + +Illustrations by HENRY RALEIGH + +NEW YORK HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY 1917 [Blank-copyright info] PREFACE + +At a certain committee meeting held in the spring of 1916, it was agreed +that fourteen leading American authors, known to be extremely generous as +well as gifted, should be asked to write a composite novel. + +As I was not present at this particular meeting, it was unanimously and +joyously decided by those who were present that I should attend to the +trivial details of getting this novel together. + +It appeared that all I had to do was: + +First, to persuade each of the busy authors on the list to write a chapter +of the novel. + +Second, to keep steadily on their trails from the moment they promised +their chapters until they turned them in. + +Third, to have the novel finished and published serially during the autumn +Campaign of 1917. + +The carrying out of these requirements has not been the childish diversion +it may have seemed. Splendid team work, however, has made success possible. + + +Every author represented, every worker on the team, has gratuitously +contributed his or her services; and every dollar realized by the serial +and book publication of "The Sturdy Oak" will be devoted to the Suffrage +Cause. But the novel itself is first of all a very human story of American +life today. It neither unduly nor unfairly emphasizes the question of equal +suffrage, and it should appeal to all lovers of good fiction. + +Therefore, pausing only to wipe the beads of perspiration from our brows, +we urge every one to buy this book! + +ELIZABETH JORDAN. + +NEW YORK. + +_November_, 1917. CONTENTS + + + +CHAPTER + +I. BY SAMUEL MERWIN + +II. BY HARRY LEON WILSON + +III. BY FANNIE HURST + +IV. BY DOROTHY CANFIELD + +V. BY KATHLEEN NORRIS + +VI. BY HENRY KITCHELL WEBSTER + +VII. BY ANNE O'HAGAN + +VIII. BY MARY HEATON VORSE + +IX. BY ALICE DUER MILLER + +X. BY ETHEL WATTS MUMFORD + +XI. BY MARJORIE BENTON COOK + +XII. BY WILLIAM ALLEN WHITE + +XIII. BY MARY AUSTIN + +XIV. BY LEROY SCOTT ILLUSTRATIONS + +"Nobody ever means that a woman really can't get along without a man's +protection, because look at the women who do" + +It was hard on the darling old boy to come home to Miss Emelene and the cat +and Eleanor and Alys every night! + +"You mean because she's a suffragist? You sent her away for _that!_ Why, +really, that's _tyranny!_" + +Across the way, Mrs. Herrington, the fighting blood of five generations +of patriots roused in her, had reinstated the Voiceless Speech. PRINCIPAL +CHARACTERS + +_George Remington_... Aged twenty-six; newly married. Recently returned to +his home town, New York State, to take up the practice of law. Politically +ambitious, a candidate for District Attorney. Opposed to woman suffrage. + +_Genevieve_... His wife, aged twenty-three, graduate of Smith. Devoted to +George; her ideal being to share his every thought. + +_Betty Sheridan_... A friend of Genevieve. Very pretty; one of the first +families, well-to-do but in search of economic independence. Working as +stenographer in George's office; an ardent Suffragist. + +_Penfield Evans_... Otherwise "Penny," George's partner, in love with +Betty. Neutral on the subject of Suffrage. + +_Alys Brewster-Smith_... Cousin of George, once removed; thirty-three, a +married woman by profession, but temporarily widowed. Anti-suffragist. One +Angel Child aged five. + +_Martin Jaffry_... Uncle to George, bachelor of uncertain age and certain +income. The widow's destined prey. + +_Cousin Emelene_.... On Genevieve's side. Between thirty-five and forty, a +born spinster but clinging to the hope of marriage as the only career for +women. Has a small and decreasing income. Affectedly feminine and genuinely +incompetent. + + +_Mrs. Harvey Herrington_.... President of the Woman's Club, the Municipal +League, Suffrage Society leader, wealthy, cultured and possessing a sense +of humor. + +_Percival Pauncefoot Sheridan_.... Betty's brother, fifteen, commonly +called Pudge. Pink, pudgy, sensitive; always imposed upon, always grouchy +and too good-natured to assert himself. + +_E. Eliot_.... Real estate agent (added in Chapter VI by Henry Kitchell +Webster). + +_Benjamin Doolittle_.... A leader of his party, and somewhat careless where +he leads it. (Added in Anne O'Hagan's Chapter). + +_Patrick Noonan_.... A follower of Doolittle. + +Time.... The Present. + +Place.... Whitewater, N. Y. A manufacturing town of from ten to fifteen +thousand inhabitants. + + + + +THE STURDY OAK + + +CHAPTER I + +BY SAMUEL MERWIN + + +Genevieve Remington had been called beautiful. She was tall, with brown +eyes and a fine spun mass of golden-brown hair. She had a gentle smile, +that disclosed white, even teeth. Her voice was not unmusical. She was +twenty-three years old and possessed a husband who, though only twenty-six, +had already shown such strength of character and such aptitude at the +criminal branch of the law that he was now a candidate for the post of +district attorney on the regular Republican ticket. + +The popular impression was that he would be elected hands down. His address +on Alexander Hamilton at the Union League Club banquet at Hamilton City, +twenty-five miles from Whitewater (with which smaller city we are concerned +in this narrative), had been reprinted in full in the Hamilton City +_Tribune_; and Mrs. Brewster-Smith reported that former Congressman Hancock +had compared it, not unfavorably, with certain public utterances of the +Honorable Elihu Root. + +George Remington was an inch more than six feet tall, with sturdy +shoulders, a chin that gave every indication of stubborn strength, a frank +smile, and a warm, strong handclasp. He was connected by blood (as well as +by marriage) with five of the eight best families in Whitewater. Mr. Martin +Jaffry, George's uncle and sole inheritor of the great Jaffry estate (and a +bachelor), was known to favor his candidacy; was supposed, indeed, to be a +large contributor to the Remington campaign fund. In fact, George Remington +was a lucky young man, a coming young man. + +George and Genevieve had been married five weeks; this was their first day +as master and mistress of the old Remington place on Sheridan Road. + +Genevieve, that afternoon, was in the long living-room, trying out various +arrangements of the flowers that had been sent in. There were a great +many flowers. Most of them came from admirers of George. The Young Men's +Republican Club, for one item, had sent eight dozen roses. But Genevieve, +still a-thrill with the magic of her five-weeks-long honeymoon, tremulously +happy in the cumulative proof that her husband was the noblest, strongest, +bravest man alive, felt only joy in his popularity. + +As his wife she shared his triumphs. "For better or worse, for richer or +poorer, in sickness and health ..." the ancient phrases repeated themselves +so many times in her softly confused thought, as she moved about among the +flowers, that they finally took on a rhythm--- + + _"For better or worse, + For richer or poorer, + For richer or poorer, + For better or worse--"_ + + * * * * * + +On this day her life was beginning. She had given herself irrevocably into +the hands of this man. She would live only in him. Her life would find +expression only through his. His strong, trained mind would be her guide, +his sturdy courage her strength. He would build for them both, for the +twain that were one. + +She caught up one red rose, winked the moisture from her eyes, and +gazed--rapt, lips parted, color high--out at the close-clipped lawn behind +the privet hedge. The afternoon would soon be waning--in another hour or +so. She must not disturb him now. + +In an hour, say, she would run up the stairs and tap at his door. And he +would come out, clasp her in his big arms, and she would stand on the tips +of her toes and kiss away the wrinkles between his brows, and they would +walk on the lawn and talk about themselves and the miracle of their love. + +The clock on the mantel struck three. She pouted; turned and stared at it. +"Well," she told herself, "I'll wait until half-past four." + +The doorbell rang. + +Genevieve's color faded. The slim hand that held the rose trembled a very +little. Her first caller! She decided that it would be best not to talk +about George. Not one word about George! Her feelings were her secret--and +his. + +Marie ushered in two ladies. One, who rushed forward with outstretched +hand, was a curiously vital-appearing creature in black--plainly a +widow--hardly more than thirty-two or thirty-three, fresh of skin, rather +prominent as to eyeballs, yet, everything considered, a handsome woman. +This was Alys Brewster-Smith. The other, shorter, slighter, several years +older, a faded, smiling, tremulously hopeful spinster, was Genevieve's own +cousin, Emelene Brand. + +"It's so nice of you to come--" Geneviève began timidly, only to be swept +aside by the superior aggressiveness and the stronger voice of Mrs. +Brewster-Smith. + +"My _dear_! Isn't it perfectly delightful to see you actually mistress of +this wonderful old home. And"--her slightly prominent eyes swiftly took in +furniture, pictures, rugs, flowers,--"how wonderfully you have managed to +give the old place your own tone!" "Nothing has been changed," murmured +Genevieve, a thought bewildered. + +"Nothing, my dear, but yourself! I am _so_ looking forward to a good talk +with you. Emelene and I were speaking of that only this noon. And I can't +tell you how sorry I am that our first call has to be on a miserable +political matter. Tell me, dear, is that wonderful husband of yours at +home?" + +"Why--yes. But I am not to disturb him." + +"Ah, shut away in his den?" + +Genevieve nodded. + +"It's a very important paper he has to write. It has to be done now, before +he is drawn into the whirl of campaign work." + +"Of course! Of course! But I'm afraid the campaign is whirling already. I +will tell you what brought us, my dear. You know of course that Mrs. Harvey +Herrington has come out for suffrage--thrown in her whole personal weight +and, no doubt, her money. I can't understand it--with her home, and her +husband--going into the mire of politics. But that is what she has done. +And Grace Hatfield called up not ten minutes ago to say that she has just +led a delegation of ladies up to your husband's office. Think of it--to his +office! The first day!... Well, Emelene, it is some consolation that they +won't find him there." + +"He isn't going to the office today," said Genevieve. "But what can they +want of him?" + +"To get him to declare for suffrage, my dear." + +"Oh--I'm sure he wouldn't do that!" + +"Are you, my dear? Are you _sure_?" + +"Well----" + +"He has told you his views, of course?" + +Genevieve knit her brows. "Why, yes--of course, we've talked about +things----" + +"My dear, of course he is _against suffrage_." + +"Oh yes, of course. I'm sure he is. Though, you see, I would no more think +of intruding in George's business affairs than he would think of intruding +in my household duties." + +"Naturally, Genevieve. And very sweet and dear of you! But I'm sure you +will see how very important this is. Here we are, right at the beginning +of his campaign. Those vulgar women are going to hound him. They've begun +already. As our committee wrote him last week, it is vitally important that +he should declare himself unequivocally at once." + +"Oh, yes," murmured Genevieve, "of course. I can see that." + +The doors swung open. A thin little man of forty to fifty stood there, a +dry but good-humored man, with many wrinkles about his quizzical blue eyes, +and sandy hair at the sides and back of an otherwise bald head. He was +smartly dressed in a homespun Norfolk suit. He waved a cap of homespun in +greeting. + +"Afternoon, ladies! Genevieve, a bachelor's admiration and respect! I hope +that boy George has got sense enough to be proud of you. But they haven't +at that age. They're all for themselves." + +"Oh no, Uncle Martin," cried Genevieve, "George is the most generous----" + +Mr. Martin Jaffry flicked his cap. "All right. All right! He is." And +slowly retreated. + +Mrs. Brewster-Smith, an eager light in her eyes, moved part way across the +room. "But we can't let you run away like this, Mr. Jaffry. Do sit down +and tell us about the work you are doing at the Country Club. Is it to be +bowling alley _and_ swimming pool----" + +"Bowling alley _and_ swimming pool, yes. Tell me, chick, might a humble +constituent speak to the great man?" + +Genevieve hesitated. "I'm sure he'd love to see you, Uncle Martin. But he +_did_ say----" + +"Not to be disturbed by _any_body, eh?" + +"Yes, Uncle Martin. It's a very important statement he has to prepare +before----" + +"Good day, then. You look fine in the old house, chick!" + +Mr. Jaffry donned his cap of homespun, ran down the steps and out the front +walk, hopped into his eight-cylinder roadster, and was off down the street +in a second. There was a sharp decisiveness about his exit, and about the +sudden speed of his machine; all duly noted by Mrs. Brewster-Smith, who +had gone so far as to move down the room to the front window and watch the +performance with narrowed eyes. The Jaffry Building stands at the southwest +corner of Fountain Square. It boasts six stories, mosaic flooring in the +halls, and the only passenger elevator in Whitewater. The ground floor was +given over to Humphrey's drug store; and most of Humphrey's drug store +was given over to the immense marble soda fountain and the dozen or more +wire-legged tables and the two or three dozen wire chairs that served to +accommodate the late afternoon and evening crowd. + +At the moment the fountain had but one patron--a remarkably fat boy of, +perhaps, fifteen, with plump cheeks and drooping mouth.... The row of +windows across the second floor front of the building, above Humphrey's, +bore, each, the legend--_Remington and Evans, Attorneys at Law_. + +The fat boy was Percival Sheridan, otherwise Pudge. His sister, Betty +Sheridan, worked in the law offices directly overhead and possessed a heart +of stone. + +Betty was rich, at least in the eyes of Pudge. For more than a year (Betty +was twenty-two) she had enjoyed a private income. Pudge definitely knew +this. She had money to buy out the soda fountain. But her character, +thought Pudge, might be summed up in the statement that she worked when she +didn't have to (people talked about this; even to him!) and flatly refused +to give her brother money for soda. + +As if a little soda ever hurt anybody. She took it herself, often enough. +Within five minutes he had laid the matter before her--up in that solemn +office, where they made you feel so uncomfortable. She had said: "Pudge +Sheridan, you're killing yourself! Not one cent more for wrecking your +stomach!" + +She had called him "Pudge." For months he had been reminding her that his +name was Percival. And he wasn't wrecking his stomach. That was silly talk. +He had eaten but two nut sundaes and a chocolate frappé since luncheon. It +wasn't soda and candy that made him so fat. Some folks just were fat, and +some folks were thin. That was all there was _to_ it! + +Pudge himself would have a private income when he was twenty-one. Six years +off ... and Billy Simmons in his white apron, was waiting now, on the other +side of the marble counter, for his order--and grinning as he waited. +Six years! Why, Pudge would be a man then--too old for nut sundaes and +chocolate frappés, too far gone down the sober slope of life to enjoy +anything! + +Pudge wriggled nervously, locked his feet around behind the legs of the +high stool, rubbed a fat forefinger on the edge of the counter, and watched +the finger intently with gloomy eyes. + +"Well, what'll it be, Pudge?" This from Billy Simmons. + +"My name ain't Pudge." + +"Very good, Mister Sheridan. What'll it be?" + +"One of those chocolate marshmallow nut sundaes, I guess, if--if----" + +"If what, Mister Sheridan?" + +"--if, oh well, just charge it." + +Billy Simmons paused in the act of reaching for a sundae glass. The smile +left his face. + +Pudge, though he did not once look up from that absorbing little operation +with the fat forefinger, felt this pause and knew that Billy's grin had +gone; and his own mouth drooped and drooped. It was a tense moment. + +"You see, Pudge," Billy began in some embarrassment, only to conclude +rather sharply, "I'll have to ask Mr. Humphrey. Your sister said we +weren't----" + +"Oh, well!" sighed Pudge. Getting down from the stool he waddled slowly out +of the store. + +It was no use going up against old Humphrey. He had tried that. He went as +far as the fire-plug, close to the corner, and sank down upon it. Everybody +was against him. He would sit here awhile and think it over. Perhaps he +could figure out some way of breaking through the conspiracy. Then Mr. +Martin Jaffry drove up to the curb and he had to move his legs. Mr. Jaffry +said, "Hello, Pudge," too. It was all deeply annoying. + +Meantime, during the past half-hour, the law offices of Remington and Evans +were not lacking in the sense of life and activity. Things began moving +when Penny Evans (christened Penfield) came back from lunch. He wore an +air--Betty Sheridan noted, from her typewriter desk within the rail--of +determination. His nod toward herself was distinctly brusque; a new quality +which gave her a moment's thought. And then when he had hung up his hat and +was walking past her to his own private office, he indulged in a faint, +fleeting grin. + +Betty considered him. She had known Penny Evans as long as she could +remember knowing anybody; and she had never seen him look quite as he +looked this afternoon. + +The buzzer sounded. It was absurd, of course; nobody else in the office. He +could have spoken--you could hear almost every sound over the seven-foot +partitions. + +She rose, waited an instant to insure perfect composure, smoothed down her +trim shirtwaist, pushed back a straying wisp of her naturally wavy hair, +picked up her notebook and three sharp pencils, and went quietly into his +office. + +He sat there at his flat desk--his blond brows knit, his mouth firm, a +light of eager good humor in his blue eyes. + +"Take this," he said ... Betty seated herself opposite him, and was +instantly ready for work. + +"... Memorandum. From rentals--the old Evans property on Ash Street, the +two houses on Wilson Avenue South, and the factory lease in the South +Extension, a total of slightly over $3600. + +"New paragraph. From investments in bonds, railway and municipal, an +average the last four years of $2800. + +"New paragraph. From law practice, last year, over $4500. Will be +considerably more this year. Total----" + +"New paragraph?" + +"No. Continue. Total, $10,900. This year will be close to $12,000. Don't +you think that's a reasonably good showing for an unencumbered man of +twenty-seven?" + +"Dictation--that last?" + +"No, personal query, Penny to Betty." + +"Yes, then, it is very good. You want this in memorandum form. Any +carbons?" + +"One carbon--in the form of a diamond--gift from Penny to Betty." Miss +Sheridan settled back in her chair, tapped her pretty mouth with her +pencil, and surveyed the blond young man. Her eyes were blue--frank, +capable eyes. + +"Penny, I like my work here----" + +"I should hope so----" + +"And I don't want to give it up." + +"Then don't." + +"I shall have to, Penny, if you don't stop breaking your word. It was a +definite agreement, you know. You were not to propose to me, on any working +day, before seven P.M. This is a proposal of course----" + +"Yes, of course, but I've just----" + +"That makes twice this month, then, that you've broken the agreement. Now I +can go on and put my mind on my work, if you'll let me. Otherwise, I shall +have to get a job where they _will_ let me." + +"But, Betty, I've just this noon sat down and figured up where I stand. It +has frightened me a little. I didn't realize I was taking in more than +ten thousand a year. And all of a sudden it struck me that I've been an +imbecile to wait, or make any agreement----" + +"Then you broke it deliberately?" + +"Absolutely. Betty--no fooling now; I'm in earnest----" + +Studying him, she saw that he was intensely in earnest. + +"You see, child, I've tried to be patient because I know how you were +brought up, what you're used to. Why, I wouldn't dream of asking you to +be my wife unless I could feel pretty sure of being able to give you the +comforts you've always had and ought to have. But hang it, Betty, I _can_ +do it right! I can give you a home that's worthy of you. Any time! This +year, even!" + +"Penny, do you think I care what your income is--for one minute?" + +"Why--why----" + +"When I'm earning twenty dollars a week myself and prouder of it than--" + +"But that's absurd, Betty--for you to be working--as a stenographer, of all +things! A girl with your looks and your gifts and all that's back of you." + +"You mean that I should make marriage my profession?" + +"Well--well----" + +"Probably that's why we keep missing each other, Penny. I've pinned my flag +to the principle of economic independence. You're looking for a girl who +will marry for a living. There are lots of them. Pretty, attractive girls, +too. Your difficulty is, you want that sort. You really believe all girls +are that sort at heart, and you think my independence a fad--something I +shall get over. Don't you, now?" + +"Well, I'll confess I can't see it as the normal thing. Yes, I believe--I +hope--you will get over it." + +"Well--" Miss Sheridan slammed her book shut and stood up--"I won't." + +She stepped to the door. + +"And the agreement stands. I want to keep on working. And I want to keep on +being fond of you. That agreement is necessary to both desires." She opened +the door, hesitated and a hint of mischief flashed across her face. +"I'll tell you just the person for you, Penny. Really. Marriage is her +profession. She's very experienced. Temporarily out of a job--Alys +Brewster-Smith." + +He snatched a carnation from the glass on his desk and threw it at her. It +struck a closed door. + + * * * * * + +The outer door opened just then, and Mr. Martin Jaffry stepped in. He +nodded, with his little quizzical smile, to the composed young woman who +stood within the railing. + +"Anybody here, Betty?" + +A slight movement of her prettily poised head indicated the door marked +"Mr. Evans." And she said, "Penny's there." + +"Is he shut up, too? His partner is too important to be seen today." + +"Oh no," Betty replied, inscrutably sober, "he's not important." + +Mr. Jaffry wrinkled up his eyes, chuckled softly, then stepped to the +door of the unimportant one. Before opening it, he turned. "Mrs. Harvey +Herrington been in?" + +"Twice with a committee." + +"Any idea what she wanted?" + +Betty was aware that the whimsical and roundabout Mr. Jaffry knew +everything about everybody in Whitewater. She was further aware that he +had, undoubtedly, reasons of his own for questioning her. He was +always asking questions, anyway. Worse than a Chinaman. And for some +reason--perhaps because he was Martin Jaffry--you always answered his +questions. + +"Yes," said Betty. "She wants to pledge him to suffrage." + +"Umm! Yes, I see! You wouldn't be against that yourself, would you?" + +"Naturally not. I'm secretary of the Second Ward Suffrage Club." + +"Umm! Yes, yes!" With which illuminating comment, Mr. Jaffry tapped on +Penny Evans' door, opened it and entered. + +"Spare a minute?" he inquired. + +"Sure," said Penny; "two, ten! Take a chair." + +"No," replied Mr. Jaffry, "I won't take a chair. Think better on my feet. +I'm in a bit of a quandary. Suppose you tell me what this important paper +is that George is drawing up. Do you know?" + +"I do." + +"Is he coming out against suffrage?" + +"Flatly." + +"Umm!" Mr. Jaffry flicked his cap about. "I want to see George. He mustn't +do that." + +"Say, Mr. Jaffry, you haven't swung over----" + +"Not at all. It's tactics. I ought to see him." + +"Why not run out to his house----" + +"Just been there. Ran away. Some one there I'm afraid of." + +"Telephone?" + +Mr. Jaffry shook his head and lowered his voice. + +"With Betty hearing it at this end, and the committee from the Antis +sitting it out down there--the telephone's on the stair landing----" + +He pursed his lips, waved his cap slowly to and fro and observed it with a +whimsical expression on his sandy face, then glanced out of the window. He +stepped closer, looking sharply down. A very fat boy with pink cheeks and a +downcast expression was sitting on a fire-plug. Mr. Jaffry leaned out. + +"Pudge," he called, "come up here a minute." + +On the Remington and Evans stationery he penciled a note, which he sealed. +Then he scribbled another--to Mrs. George Remington, asking her to hand +George the inclosure the moment he appeared from his work. The two he +slipped into a large envelope. The very fat boy stood before him. + +"Want to make a quarter, Pudge? Take this letter, right now, to Mrs. George +Remington. Give it to her personally. It's the old Remington place, you +know." + +He felt in his change pocket. It was empty. He hesitated, turned to Evans, +then, reconsidering, produced a dollar bill from another pocket and gave it +to the boy. + +"Now run," he said. + +The boy, speechless, turned and moved out of the office. His sister spoke +to him, but he did not turn his head. He rolled down the stairs to the +street, stood a moment in front of Humphrey's, drew a sudden breath that +was almost a gasp, waddled into the store, advanced directly on the +soda fountain, and with a blazing red face and angrily triumphant eyes +confronted Billy Simmons. + +"I'll take a chocolate marshmallow nut sundae," he said. "And you needn't +be stingy with the marshmallow, either!" + + * * * * * + +At ten minutes past four, the anxious Antis in the Remington living-room +heard the candidate for district attorney running down the stairs, and even +Mrs. Brewster-Smith was hushed. The candidate stopped, however, on the +landing. They heard him lift the telephone receiver. He called a number. +Then----- + +"_Sentinel_ office?... Mr. Ledbetter, please.... Hello, Ledbetter! +Remington speaking. I have that statement ready. Will you send a man +around?... Yes, right away. And I wish you'd put it on the wires. Display +it just as prominently as you can, won't you?... Thanks. That's fine! +Good-by." + +He ran back upstairs. + +But shortly he appeared, wearing the distrait, exalted expression of the +genius who has just passed through the creative act. He looked very tall +and strong as he stood before the mantel, receiving the congratulations of +Mrs. Brewster-Smith and the timid admiration of Cousin Emelene. His few +words were well chosen and were uttered with dignity. + +"And now, dear Mr. Remington, I'm sure I don't need to ask you if you are +taking the right stand on suffrage." This from Mrs. Brewster-Smith. + +The candidate smiled tolerantly. + +"If unequivocal opposition is 'right'----" + +"Oh, you dear man! I was sure we could count on you. Isn't it splendid, +Geneviève!" + +The reporters came. + + * * * * * + +It was a busy evening for the young couple. There were relatives for +dinner. Other relatives and an old friend or two came later. Throughout, +George wore that quietly exalted expression, and carried himself with the +new dignity. + +To the adoring Genevieve his chin had never appeared so long and strong, +his thought had never seemed so elevated, his quiet self-respect had never +been so commanding. He was no longer merely her George, he was now a public +figure. Soon he would be district attorney; then, very likely, Governor; +then--well, Senator; and finally--it was possible--some one had to +be--President of the United States. He had begun, this day, by making a +great decision, by stepping boldly out on principle, on moral principle, +and announcing himself a defender of the home, of the right. + +At midnight, the last guest departed. George and Genevieve stepped out into +the summer moonlight and strolled arm in arm down the walk. + +Waddling up the street appeared a very fat boy. + +"Why, Pudge," cried Geneviève, "what on earth are you doing out at this +time of night!" + +"I'm going home, I tell you!" muttered the boy, on the defensive. He +carried a large bag of what seemed to be chocolate creams, from which he +was eating. + +As he passed, a twinge of memory disturbed him. He fumbled in his pockets. + +"I was to give you this," he said then; and leaving a crumpled envelope +in Genevieve's hand, he walked on as rapidly as he could. + +A few minutes later, standing under the light in the front hall, George +Remington read this penciled note: + +"I stood ready to contribute more than I promised--any amount to put you +over. But if you give out a statement against suffrage you're a damn fool +and I withdraw every cent. A man with no more political sense and skill +than that isn't worth helping. You should have advised me. + +"M. J." + + + + +CHAPTER II + +BY HARRY LEON WILSON + + +It may have been surmised that our sterling young candidate for district +attorney had not yet become skilled in dalliance with the equivocal; that +he was no adept in ambiguity; that he would confront all issues with a +rugged valiance susceptible of no misconstruction; that, in short, George +Remington was no trimmer. + +If he opposed an issue, one knew that he opposed it from the heart out. He +said so and he meant it. And, being opposed to the dreadful heresy of equal +suffrage, no reader of the Whitewater _Sentinel_ that morning could say, +as the shrewd so often say of our older statesmen, that George was +"side-stepping." + +Not George's the mellow gift to say, in effect, that of course woman should +vote the instant she wishes to, though perhaps that day has not yet come. +Meantime the speaker boldly defies the world to show a man holding woman in +loftier regard than he does, or ready to accord her a higher value in +all true functions of the body politic. Equal suffrage, thank God, is +inevitable at some future time, but until that glorious day when we can be +assured that the sex has united in a demand for it, it were perhaps as +well not to cloud the issues of the campaign now opening; though let it be +understood, and he cannot put this too plainly, that he reveres the memory +of his gray-haired mother without whose tender ministrations and wise +guidance he could never have reached the height from which he now speaks. +And so let us pass on to the voting on these canal bonds, the true +inwardness of which, thanks to the venal activities of a corrupt +opposition, even an exclusively male constituency has thus far failed to +comprehend. And so forth. + +Our hero, then, had yet to acquire this finesse. As we are now privileged +to observe him, he is as easy to understand as the multiplication table, +as little devious and, alas! as lacking in suavity. Yet, let us be fair to +George. Mere innocence of guile, of verbal trickery, had not alone sufficed +for his passionate bluntness in the present crisis. At a later stage in +his career as a husband he might have been equally blunt; yet never again, +perhaps, would he have been so emotional in his opposition to woman +polluting herself with the mire of politics. + +Be it recalled that but five weeks had elapsed since George had solemnly +promised to cherish and protect the fairest of the non-voting sex--at least +in his State--and he was still taking his mission seriously. As he wrote +the words that were now electrifying, in a manner of speaking, the readers +of the _Sentinel_, and of neighboring journals with enough enterprise to +secure them, he had beheld his own Genevieve, fine, flawless, tenderly +nourished flower that she was, being dragged from her high place with the +most distressing results. + +He saw her rushed from the sacred shelter of her home and made to attend +primaries; he saw her compelled to strive tearfully with problems that +revolted all her finer instincts; he saw her insulted at polling booths; +saw her voting in company with persons of both sexes whom one could never +know. + +He saw her tainted, bruised, beaten down in the struggle, losing little by +little all sense of the holy values of Wife, Mother, Home. As he wrote he +heard her weakening cries for help as she perished, and more than once his +left arm instinctively curved to shield her. + +Was it not for his wife, then; nay, for wifehood itself, that he wrote? +And so, was it quite fair for unmarried Penfield Evans, burning at his +breakfast table a cynical cigarette over the printed philippic, to murmur, +"Gee! old George _has_ spilled the beans!" + +Simple words enough and not devoid of friendly concern. But should he not +have divined that George had been appalled to his extremities of speech +by the horrendous vision of his fair young bride being hurled into depths +where she would be obliged, if not to have opinions of her own, at least to +vote with the rabble as he might decide they ought to vote? + +And should not other critics known to us have divined the racking anguish +under which George had labored? For one, should not Elizabeth Sheridan, +amateur spinster, have been all sympathy for one who was palpably more an +alarmed bridegroom than a mere candidate? + +Should not her maiden heart have been touched by this plausible aspect of +George's dilemma, rather than her mere brain to have been steeled to a +humorous disparagement tinged with bitterness? + +And yet, "What rot!" muttered Miss Sheridan,--"silly rot, bally rot, tommy +rot, and all the other kinds!" + +Hereupon she creased a brow not meant for creases and defaced an admirable +nose with grievous wrinkles of disdain. "Sacred names of wife and mother!" +This seemed regrettably like swearing as she delivered it, though she +quoted verbatim. "Sacred names of petted imbeciles!" she amended. + +Then, with berserker fury, crumpling her _Sentinel_ into a ball, she +venomously hurled it to the depths of a waste basket and religiously rubbed +the feel of it from her fingers. As she had not even glanced at the column +headed "Births, Deaths, Marriages," it will be seen that her agitation was +real. And surely a more discerning sympathy might have been looked for from +the seasoned Martin Jaffry. A bachelor full of years and therefore with +illusions not only unimpaired but ripened, who more quickly than he should +have divined that his nephew for the moment viewed all womankind as but one +multiplied Genevieve, upon whom it would be heinous to place the shackles +of suffrage? + +Perhaps Uncle Martin did divine this. Perhaps he was a mere trimmer, a rank +side-stepper, steeped in deceit and ever ready to mouth the abominable +phrase "political expediency." It were rash to affirm this, for no analyst +has ever fathomed the heart of a man who has come to his late forties a +bachelor by choice. One may but guess from the ensuing meager data. + +Uncle Martin at a certain corner of Maple Avenue that morning, fell in +with Penfield Evans, who, clad as the lilies of a florist's window, strode +buoyantly toward his office, the vision of his day's toil pinkly suffused +by an overlaying vision of a Betty or Sheridan character. Mr. Evans bubbled +his greeting. "Morning! Have you seen it? Oh, _say_, have you seen it?" + +The immediate manner of Uncle Martin not less than his subdued garb of +gray, his dark gloves and his somber stick, intimated that he saw nothing +to bubble about. + +"He has burned his bridges behind him." The speaker looked as grim as any +bachelor-by-choice ever may. + +"Regular little fire-bug," blithely responded Mr. Evans, moderating his +stride to that of the other. + +"Can't understand it," resumed the gloomy uncle. "I sent him word in time; +sent it from your office by messenger. It was plain enough. I told him no +money of mine would go into his campaign if he made a fool of himself--or +words to that effect." + +"Phew! Cast you off, did he? Just like that?" + +"Just like that! Went out of his way to overdo it, too. Needn't have come +out half so strong. No chance now to backwater--not a chance on earth +to explain what he really did mean--and make it something different." +"Quixotic! That's how it reads to me." + +Uncle Martin here became oracular, his somber stick gesturing to point his +words. + +"Trouble with poor George, he's been silly enough to blurt out the truth, +what every man of us thinks in his heart--" + +"Eh?" said Mr. Evans quickly, as one who has been jolted. + +"No more sense than to come right out and say what every one of us thinks +in his secret heart about women. I think it and you think it--" + +"Oh, well, if you put it _that_ way," admitted young Mr. Evans gracefully. +"But of course--" + +"Certainly, of _course!_ We all think it--sacred names of home and mother +and all the rest of it; but a man running for office these days is a chump +to say so, isn't he? Of course he is! What chance does it leave him? Answer +me that." + +"Darned little, if you ask me," said Mr. Evans judicially. "Poor old +George!" + +"Talks as if he were going to be married tomorrow instead of its having +come off five weeks ago," pursued Uncle Martin bitterly. Plainly there were +depths of understanding in the man, trimmer though he might be. + +Mr. Evans made no reply. Irrationally he was considering the terms "five +weeks" and "married" in relation to a spinster who would have professed to +be indignant had she known it. + +"Got to pull the poor devil out," said Uncle Martin, when in silence they +had traversed fifty feet more of the shaded side of Maple Avenue. + +"How?" demanded the again practical Mr. Evans. + +"Make him take it back; make him recant; swing him over the last week +before election. Make him eat his words with every sign of exquisite +relish. Simple enough!" + +"How?" persisted Mr. Evans. + +"Wiles, tricks, subterfuges, chicanery--understand what I mean?" + +"Sure! I understand what you mean as well as you do, but--come down to +brass tacks." + +"That's an entirely different matter," conceded Uncle Martin gruffly. "It +may take thought." + +"Oh, is that all? Very well then; we'll think. I, myself, will think. +First, I'll have a talk with the sodden amorist. I'll grill him. I'll find +the weak spot in his armor. There must be something we can put over on +him." + +"By fair means or foul," insisted Uncle Martin as they paused at the +parting of their ways. "Low-down, underhanded work--do you get what I +mean?" + +"I do, I do!" declared young Mr. Evans and broke once more into the buoyant +stride of an earlier moment. This buoyance was interrupted but once, and +briefly, ere he gained the haven of his office. + +As he stepped quite too buoyantly into Fountain Square, he was all but run +down by the new six-cylinder roadster of Mrs. Harvey Herrington, driven +by the enthusiastic owner. He regained the curb in time, with a ready and +heartfelt utterance nicely befitting the emergency. + +The president of the Whitewater Women's Club, the Municipal League and the +Suffrage Society, brought her toy to a stop fifteen feet beyond her too +agile quarry, with a fine disregard for brakes and tire surfaces. She +beckoned eagerly to him she might have slain. She was a large woman with an +air of graceful but resolute authority; a woman good to look upon, attired +with all deference to the modes of the moment, and exhaling an agreeable +sense of good-will to all. + +"Be careful always to look before you start across and you'll never have to +say such things," was her greeting to Mr. Evans, as he halted beside this +minor juggernaut. + +"Sorry you heard it," lied the young man readily. + +"Such a flexible little car--picks up before one realizes," conceded +Whitewater's acknowledged social dictator. "But what I wanted to say is +this: that poor daft partner of yours has mortally offended every woman in +town except three, with that silly screed of his. I've seen nearly all of +them that count this morning, or they've called me by telephone. Now, +why couldn't he have had the advice of some good, capable woman before +committing himself so rabidly?" + +"Who were the three?" queried Mr. Evans. + +"Oh, poor Genevieve, of course; she goes without saying. And +you'd guess the other two if you knew them better--his cousin, Alys +Brewster-Smith, and poor Genevieve's Cousin Emelene. They both have his +horrible school-boy composition committed to memory, I do believe. + +"Cousin Emelene recited most of it to me with tears in her weak eyes, and +Alys tells me his noble words have made the world seem like a different +place to her. She said she had been coming to believe that chivalry of the +old true brand was dying out, but that dear Cousin George has renewed her +faith in it. + +"Think of poor Genevieve when they both fall on his neck. They're going up +for that particular purpose this afternoon. The only two in town, mind you, +except poor Genevieve. Oh, it's too awfully bad, because aside from this +medieval view of his, George was probably as acceptable for this office as +any man could be." + +The lady burdened the word "man" with a tiny but distinguishable emphasis. +Mr. Evans chose to ignore this. + +"George's friends are going to take him in hand," said he. "Of course he +was foolish to come out the way he has, even if he did say only what every +man believes in his secret heart." + +The president of the Whitewater Woman's Club fixed him with a glittering +and suddenly hostile eye. + +"What! you too?" she flung at him. He caught himself. He essayed +explanations, modifications, a better lighting of the thing. But at the +expiration of his first blundering sentence Mrs. Herrington, with her +flexible little car, was narrowly missing an aged and careless pedestrian +fifty yards down the street. + + * * * * * + +"George come in yet?" + +For the second time Mr. Evans was demanding this of Miss Elizabeth Sheridan +who had also ignored his preliminary "Good morning!" + +Now for a moment more she typed viciously. One would have said that the +thriving legal business of Remington and Evans required the very swift +completion of the document upon which she wrought. And one would have been +grossly deceived. The sheet had been drawn into the machine at the +moment Mr. Evans' buoyant step had been heard in the outer hall, and upon +it was merely written a dozen times the bald assertion, "Now is the time +for all good men to come to the aid of the party." + +Actually it was but the mechanical explosion of the performer's mood, +rather than the wording of a sentiment now or at any happier time +entertained by her. + +At last she paused; she sullenly permitted herself to be interrupted. Her +hands still hovered above the already well-punished keys of the typewriter. +She glanced over a shoulder at Mr. Evans and allowed him to observe her +annoyance at the interruption. + +"George has not come in yet," she said coldly. "I don't think he will ever +come in again. I don't see how he can have the face to. I shouldn't think +he could ever show himself on the street again after that--that--" + +The young woman's emotion overcame her at this point. Again her relentless +fingers stung the blameless mechanism--"to come to the aid of the party. +Now is the time for all good--" She here controlled herself to further +speech. "And _you!_ Of course you applaud him for it. Oh, I knew you were +all alike!" + +"Now look here, Betty, this thing has gone far enough----" + +"Far enough, indeed!" + +"But you won't give me a chance!" + +Mr. Evans here bent above his employee in a threatening manner. + +"You don't even ask what I think about it. You say I'm guilty and ought +to be shot without a trial--not even waiting till sunrise. If you had the +least bit of fairness in your heart you'd have asked me what I really +thought about this outbreak of George's, and I'd have told you in so many +words that I think he's made all kinds of a fool of himself." + +"No! Do you really, Pen?" + +Miss Sheridan had swiftly become human. She allowed her eyes to meet those +of Mr. Evans' with an easy gladness but little known to him of late. "Of +course I do, Betty. The idea of a candidate for office in this enlightened +age breaking loose in that manner! It's suicide. He could be arrested for +the attempt in this State. Is that strong enough for you? You surely know +how I feel now, don't you? Come on, Betty dear! Let's not spar in that +foolish way any longer. Remember all I said yesterday. It goes double +today--really, I see things more clearly." + +Plainly Miss Sheridan was disarmed. + +"And I thought you'd approve every word of his silly tirade," she murmured. +Mr. Evans, still above her, was perilously shaken by the softer note in +her voice, but he controlled himself in time and sat in one of the chairs +reserved for waiting clients. It was near Miss Sheridan, yet beyond +reaching distance. He felt that he must be cool in this moment of impending +triumph. + +"Wasn't it the awfullest rot?" demanded the spinster, pounding out a row of +periods for emphasis. + +"And he's got to be made to eat his words," said Mr. Evans, wisely taking +the same by-path away from the one subject in all the world that really +mattered. + +"Who could make him?" + +"I could, if I tried." It came in quiet, masterful tones that almost +convinced the speaker himself. + +"Oh, Pen, if you could! Wouldn't that be a victory, though? If you only +could----" + +"Well, if I only could--and if I do?" His intention was too pointed to be +ignored. + +"Oh, _that_!" He winced at the belittling "that." "Of course I couldn't +promise--anyway I don't believe you could ever do it, so what's the use of +being silly?" + +"But you will--will you promise, if I _do_ convert George? Answer the +question, please!" Mr. Evans glared as only actual district attorneys have +the right to. + +"Oh, what nonsense--but, well, I'll promise--I'll promise to promise to +think very seriously about it indeed, if you bring George around." + +"Betty!" It was the voice of an able pleader and he half arose from his +chair, his arms eloquent of purpose. "'Now is the time for all good men to +come to the aid of the party. Now is the time for'--" wrote Miss Sheridan +with dazzling fingers, and the pleader resumed his seat. + +"How will you bring him 'round," she then demanded. + +"Wiles, tricks, stratagems," replied the rising young diplomat moodily, +smarting under the moment's defeat. + +"Serve him right for pulling all that old-fashioned nonsense," said Miss +Sheridan, and accorded her employer a glance in which admiration for his +prowess was not half concealed. + +"The words of a fool wise in his own folly," went on the encouraged Mr. +Evans, and then, alas! a victim to the slight oratorical thrill these words +brought him,--"honestly uttering what every last man believes and feels +about woman in his heart and yet what no sane man running for office can +say in public--here, what's the matter?" + +The latter clause had been evoked by the sight of a blazing Miss Sheridan, +who now stood over him with fists tightly clenched. "Oh, oh, oh!" This +was low, tense, thrilling. It expressed horror. "So that's what your +convictions amount to! Then you do applaud him, every word of him, and you +were deceiving me. Every man in his own heart, indeed. Thank heaven I found +you out in time!" + +It may be said that Mr. Evans now cowered in his chair. The term is not too +violent. He ventured to lift a hand in weak protest. + +"No, no, Betty, you are being unjust to me again. I meant that that was +what Martin Jaffry told me this morning. It isn't what I believe at all. I +tell you my own deepest sentiments are exactly what yours are in this great +cause which--which--" + + +Painfully he became aware of his own futility. Miss Sheridan had ceased to +blaze. Seated again before the typewriter she grinned at him with amused +incredulity. + +"You nearly had me going, Pen." + +Mr. Evans summoned the deeper resources of his manhood and achieved an +easier manner. He brazenly returned her grin. "I'll have you going again +before I'm through--remember that." + +"By wiles, tricks and stratagems, I suppose." + +"The same. By those I shall make poor George recant, and by those, assuming +you to be a woman with a fine sense of honor who will hold a promise +sacred, I shall have you going. And, mark my words, you'll be going good, +too!" + +"Silly!" + +She drew from the waste basket the maltreated _Sentinel_, unfurled it to +expose the offending matter, and smote the column with the backs of four +accusing fingers. + +"There, my dear, is your answer. Now run along like a good boy." + +"Silly!" said Mr. Evans, striving for a masterly finish to the unequal +combat. He arose, dissembling cheerful confidence, straightened the frame +of a steel-engraved Daniel Webster on the wall, and thrice paced the length +of the room, falsely appearing to be engaged in deep thought. + +Miss Sheridan, apparently for mere exclamatory purposes, now reread the +fulmination of the absent partner. She scoffed, she sneered, flouted, +derided, and one understood that she was including both members of the +firm. Then her listener became aware that she had achieved coherence. + +"Indeed, yes! Do you know what ought to happen to him? Every unprotected +female in this county ought to pack her trunk and trudge right up to the +Remington place and say, 'Here we are, noble man! We have read your burning +words in which you offer to protect us. Save us from the vote! Let your +home be our sanctuary. That's what you mean if you meant anything but +tommy-rot. Here and now we throw ourselves upon your boasted chivalry. +Where are our rooms, and what time is luncheon served.'" + +"Here! Just say that again," called Mr. Evans from across the room. Miss +Sheridan obliged. She elaborated her theme. George should be taken at +his word by every weak flower of womanhood. If women were nothing but +ministering angels, it was "up to" George to give 'em a chance to minister. + +So went Miss Sheridan's improvisation and Mr. Evans, suffering the throes +of a mighty inspiration, suddenly found it sweetest music. + +When Miss Sheridan subsided, Mr. Evans appeared to have forgotten the cause +of their late encounter. Whistling cheerily he bustled into his own office, +mumbling of matters that had to be "gotten off." For some moments he busied +himself at his desk, then emerged to dictate three business letters to his +late antagonist. + +He dictated in a formal and distant manner, pausing in the midst of the +last letter to spell out the word "analysis," which he must have known +would enrage her further. Then, quite casually, he wished to be told if +she might know the local habitat of Mrs. Alys Brewster-Smith and a certain +Cousin Emelene. His manner was arid. + +Miss Sheridan chanced to know that the ladies were sheltered in the +exclusive boarding-house of one Mrs. Gallup, out on Erie Street, and +informed him to this effect in the fewest possible words. Mr. Evans +whistled absently a moment, then formally announced that he should be +absent from the office for perhaps an hour. Hat, gloves and stick in hand, +he was about to nod punctiliously to the back of Miss Sheridan's head when +the door opened to admit none other than our hero, George Remington. George +wore the look of one who is uplifted and who yet has found occasion to be +thoughtful about it. Penfield Evans grasped his hand and shook it warmly. + +"Fine, George, old boy--simply corking! Honestly, I didn't believe you had +it in you. You covered the ground and you did it in a big way. It took +nerve, all right! Of course you probably know that every woman in town is +speaking of your young wife as 'poor Genevieve,' but you've had the courage +of your convictions. It's great!" + +"Thanks, old man! I've spoken for the right as I saw it, let come what may. +By the way, has Uncle Martin been in this morning, or telephoned, or sent +any word?" + +Miss Sheridan coldly signified that none of these things had occurred, +whereupon George sighed in an interesting manner and entered his own room. + +Mr. Evans had uttered his congratulations in clear, ringing tones and +Miss Sheridan, even as she wrote, contrived with her trained shoulders to +exhibit to his lingering eye an overwhelming contempt for his opinions and +his double-dealing. + +In spite of which he went out whistling, and dosed the door in a defiant +manner. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +BY FANNIE HURST + + +Destiny, busybody that she is, has her thousand irons in her perpetual +fires, turning, testing and wielding them. + +While Miss Betty Sheridan, for another scornful time, was rereading the +well-thumbed copy of the _Sentinel_, her fine back arched like a prize +cat's, George Remington in his small mahogany office adjoining, neck low +and heels high, was codifying, over and over again, the small planks of his +platform, stuffing the knot holes which afforded peeps to the opposite side +of the issue with anti-putty, and planning a bombardment of his pattest +phrases for the complete capitulation of his Uncle Jaffry. + +While Genevieve Remington in her snug library, so eager in her wifeliness +to clamber up to her husband's small planks, and if need be, spread her +prettily flounced skirts over the rotting places, was memorizing, with +more pride than understanding, extracts from the controversial article +for quotation at the Woman's Club meeting, Mr. Penfield Evans, with +a determination which considerably expanded his considerable chest +measurement, ran two at a bound up the white stone steps of Mrs. Gallup's +private boarding-house and pulled out the white china knob of a bell that +gave no evidence of having sounded within, and left him uncertain to ring +again. + +A cast-iron deer, with lichen growing along its antlers, stood poised for +instant flight in Mrs. Gallup's front yard. + +While Mr. Evans waited he regarded its cast-iron flanks, but not seeingly. +His rather the expression of one who stares into the future and smiles at +what he sees. + +Erie Street, shaded by a double row of showy chestnuts, lay in summer calm. +A garden hose with a patent attachment spun spray over an adjoining +lawn and sent up a greeny smell. Out from under the striped awning of +Hassebrock's Ice Cream Parlor, cat-a-corner, Percival Pauncefort Sheridan, +in rubber-heeled canvas shoes and white trousers, cuffed high, emerged +and turned down Huron Street, making frequent forays into a bulging rear +pocket. + +Miss Lydia Chipley, vice-president of the Busy Bee Sewing and Civic Club, +cool, starchy and unhatted, clicked past on slim, trim heels, all radiated +by the reflection from a pink parasol, gay embroidery bag dangling. + +"Hello, Lyd!" + +"Hello, Pen!" + +"What's your hurry?" + +"It's my middle name." + +"Why hurry, when the future is always waiting?" + +"Why aren't you holding your partner's head since he committed political +suicide in the _Sentinel_?" + +"I'd rather hold your head, Lyd, any day in the week." + +"Gaul," said Miss Chipley, passing on, her sharply etched little face +glowing in the pink reflection of the parasol, "is bounded on the north by +Mrs. Gallup's boarding-house, and on the south by----" + +"By the Frigid Zone!" + +Then the door from behind swung open. Mr. Penfield Evans stepped into Mrs. +Gallup's cool, exclusive parlor of better days, and delivering his card to +a moist-fingered maid, sat himself among the shrouded furniture to await +Mrs. Alys Brewster-Smith and Miss Emelene Brand. + +Mrs. Gallup's boarding-house was finishing its noonday meal. Boiled odors +lay upon a parlor that was otherwise redolent of the more opulent days of +the Gallups. A not too ostentatious clatter of dishes came through the +closed folding-doors. + +Almost immediately Mrs. Alys Brewster-Smith, her favorite Concentrated +Breath of the Lily always in advance, rustled into the darkened parlor, her +stride hitting vigorously into her black taffeta skirts. Even as she shook +hands with Mr. Evans, she jerked the window shade to its height, so that +her smoothness and coloring shone out above her weeds. + +In the shadow of her and at her life job of bringing up the rear, with a +large Maltese cat padding beside her, entered Miss Brand on rubber heels. +She was the color of long twilight. + +Mr. Evans rose to his six-feet-in-his-stockings and extended them each a +hand, Miss Emelene drawing the left. + +Mrs. Smith threw up a dainty gesture, black lace ruffles falling back from +arms all the whiter because of them. + +"Well, Penny Evans!" + +"None other, Mrs. Smith, than the villain himself." + +"Be seated, Penfield." + +"Thanks, Miss Emelene." + +They drew up in a triangle beside the window overlooking the cast-iron +deer. The cat sprang up, curling in the crotch of Miss Emelene's arm. + +"Nice ittie kittie, say how-do to big Penny-field-Evans. Say how-do to big +man. Say how-do, muvver's ittie kittie." Miss Emelene extended the somewhat +reluctant Maltese paw, five hook-shaped claws slightly in evidence. + +"Say how-do to Hanna, Penfield. Hanna, say how-do to big man." "How-do, +Hanna," said Mr. Evans, reddening slightly beneath his tan. Then hitched +his chair closer. + +"To what," he began, flashing his white smile from one to the other of +them, and with a strong veer to the facetious, "are we indebted for the +honor of this visit? Are those the unspoken words, ladies?" + +"Nothing wrong at home, Penfield? Nobody ailing or--" + +"No, no, Miss Emelene, never better. As a matter of fact, it's a piece of +political business that has prompted me to--" + +At that Mrs. Smith jangled her bracelets, leaning forward on her knees. + +"If it's got anything to do with your partner and my cousin George +Remington having the courage to go in for the district attorneyship without +the support of the vote-hunting, vote-eating women of this town, I'm here +to tell you that I'm with him heart and soul. He can have my support and--" + +"Mine too. And if I've got anything to say my two nephews will vote for +him; and I think I have, with my two heirs." + +"Ladies, it fills my heart with joy to--" + +"Votes! Why what would the powder-puffing, short-skirted, bridge-playing +women of this town do with the vote if they had it? Wear it around their +necks on a gold chain?" + +"Well spoken, Mrs. Smith, if--" + +"I know the direction you lean, Penfield Evans, letting--" + +"But, Miss Emelene, I--" + +"Letting that shameless Betty Sheridan, a girl that had as sweet and +womanly a mother as Whitewater ever boasted, lead you around by the nose on +her suffrage string. A girl with her raising and both of her grandmothers +women that lived and died genteel, to go traipsing around in her low heels +in men's offices and addressing hoi polloi from soap boxes! Why, between +her and that female chauffeur, Mrs. Herrington, another woman whose mother +was of too fine feelings even to join the Delsarte class, the women of this +town are being influenced to making disgraceful--dis--oh, what shall I say, +Alys?" + +Here Mrs. Smith broke in, thumping a soft fist into a soft palm. + +"It's the most pernicious movement, Mr. Evans, that has ever got hold of +this community and we need a man like my cousin George Remington to--" + +"But, Mrs. Smith, that's just what I--" + +"To stamp it out! Stamp it out! It's eating into the homes of Whitewater, +trying to make breadwinners out of the creatures God intended for the +bread-eaters--I mean bread-bakers." + +"But, Mrs. Smith, I--" + +"Woman's place has been the home since home was a cave, and it will be the +home so long as women will remember that womanliness is their greatest +asset. As poor dear Mr. Smith was so fond of saying, he--I can't bring +myself to talk of him, Mr. Evans, but--but as he used to say, I--I--" + +"Yes, yes, Mrs. Smith, I understa--" + +"But as my cousin says in his article, which in my mind should be spread +broadcast, what higher mission for woman than--than--just what are his +words, Emelene?" + +Miss Brand leaned forward, her gaze boring into space. + +"What higher mission," she quoted, as if talking in a chapel, "for woman +than that she sit enthroned in the home, wielding her invisible but mighty +scepter from that throne, while man, kissing the hand that so lovingly +commands him, shall bear her gifts and do her bidding. That is the +strongest vote in the world. That is the universal suffrage which chivalry +grants to woman. The unpolled vote! Long may it reign!" + +Round spots of color had come out on Miss Emelene's long cheeks. + +"A man who can think like that has the true--the true--what shall I say, +Alys?" + +"But, ladies, I protest that I'm not--" + +"Has the true chivalry of spirit, Emelene, that the women are too stark +raving mad to appreciate. You can't come here, Mr. Evans, to two women to +whom womanliness and love of home, thank God, are still uppermost and try +to convert us to--" + +Here Mr. Evans executed a triple gyration, to the annoyance of Hanna, who +withdrew from the gesture, and raised his voice to a shout that was not +without a note of command. + +"Convert you! Why women alive, what I've been bursting a blood vessel +trying to say during the length of this interview is that I'd as soon dip +my soul in boiling oil as try to convert you away from the cause. _My_ +cause! _Our_ cause!" + +"Why--" + +"I'm here to tell you that I'm with my partner head-over-heels on the plank +he has taken." + +"But we thought--" + +"We thought you and Betty Sheridan--why, my cousin Genevieve Remington told +me that--" + +"Yes, yes, Miss Emelene. But not even the wiles of a pretty woman can hold +out indefinitely against Truth! A broad-minded man has got to keep the door +of his mind open to conviction, or it decays of mildew. I confess that +finally I am convinced that if there is one platform more than another +upon which George Remington deserves his election it is on the brave and +chivalrous principles he has so courageously come out with in the current +_Sentinel_. Whatever may have been between Betty Sheridan and--" + +"Mr. Evans, you don't mean to tell me that you and Betty Sheridan have +quarreled! Such a desirable match from every point of view, family and all! +It goes to show what a rattle-pated bunch of women they are! Any really +clever girl with an eye to her future, anti or pro, could shift her +politics when it came to a question of matri--" + +"Mrs. Smith, there comes a time in every modern man's life when he's got to +keep his politics and his pretty girls separate, or suffrage will get him +if he don't watch out!" + +"Yes, and Mr. Evans, if what I hear is true, a good-looking woman can talk +you out of your safety deposit key!" + +"That's where you're wrong, Mrs. Smith, and I'll prove it to you. Despite +any wavering I may have exhibited, I now stand, as George puts it in his +article, 'ready to conserve the threatened flower of womanhood by also +endeavoring to conserve her unpolled vote!' If you women want prohibition, +it is in your power to sway man's vote to prohibition. If you women want +the moon, let man cast your proxy vote for it! In my mind, that is the true +chivalry. To quote again, 'Woman is man's rarest heritage, his beautiful +responsibility, and at all times his co-operation, support and protection +are due her. His support and protection.'" + +Miss Emelene closed her eyes. The red had spread in her cheeks and she +laid her head back against the chair, rocking softly and stroking the +thick-napped cat. + +"The flower of womanhood," she repeated. "'His support and his protection.' +If ever a man deserved high office because of high principles, it's my +cousin George Remington! My cousin Genevieve Livingston Remington is the +luckiest girl in the world, and not one of us Brands but what is willing to +admit it. My two nephews, too, if their Aunt Emelene has anything to say, +and I think she has--" + +"Why, there isn't a stone in the world I wouldn't turn to see that boy in +office," Mrs. Smith interrupted. + +At that Mr. Evans rose. + +"You mean that, Mrs. Smith?" + +Miss Emelene rose with him, the cat pouring from her lap. + +"Of course she means it, Penfield. What self-respecting woman wouldn't!" + +Mr. Evans sat down again suddenly, Miss Emelene with him, and leaning +violently forward, thrust his eager, sun-tanned face between the two women. + +"Well, then, ladies, here's your chance to prove it! That's what brings me +today. As two of the self-respecting, idealistic and womanly women of this +community, I have come to urge you both to--" + +"Oh, Mr. Evans!" + +"Penfield, you are the flatterer!" + +"To induce two such representative women as yourselves to help my partner +to the election he so well deserves." + +"Us?" "It is in your power, ladies, to demonstrate to Whitewater that +George Remington's chivalry is not only on paper, but in his soul." + +"But--how?" + +"By throwing yourselves upon his generosity and hospitality, at least +during the campaign. You have it in your power, ladies, to strengthen the +only uncertain plank upon which George Remington stands today." + +A clock ticked roundly into a silence tinged with eloquence. The Maltese +leaped back into Miss Emelene's lap, purring there. + +"You mean, Penfield, for us to go visit George--er--er--" + +"Just that! Bag and baggage. As two relatives and two unattached women, it +is your privilege, nay, your right." + +"But--" + +"He hasn't come out in words with it, but he has intimated that such an +act from the representative antis of this town would more than anything +strengthen his theories into facts. As unattached women, particularly as +women of his own family, his support and protection, as he puts it, are due +you, _due_ you!" + +Mrs. Smith clasped her plentifully ringed fingers, and regarded him with +her prominent eyes widening. + +"Why, I--unprotected widow that I am, Mr. Evans, am not the one to force +myself even upon my cousin if--" + +"Nor I, Penfield. It would be a pleasant enough change, heaven knows, from +the boarding-house. But you can ask your mother, Penfield, if there ever +was a prouder girl in all Whitewater than Emmy Brand. I--" + +"But I tell you, ladies, the obligation is all on George's part. It's just +as if you were polling votes for him. What is probably the oldest adage in +the language, states that actions speak louder than words. Give him his +chance to spread broadcast to your sex his protection, his support. That, +ladies, is all I--we--ask." + +"But I--Genevieve--the housekeeping, Penfield. Genevieve isn't much on +management when it comes to--" "Housekeeping! Why, I have it from your fair +cousin herself, Miss Emelene, that her idea of their new little home is the +Open House." + +"Yes, but--as Emelene says, Mr. Evans, it's an imposition to--" + +"Why do you think, Mrs. Smith, Martin Jaffry spends all his evenings up at +Remingtons' since they're back from their honeymoon? Why, he was telling +me only last night it's for the joy of seeing that new little niece of his +lording it over her well-oiled little household, where a few extra dropping +in makes not one whit of difference." + +At this remark, embedded like a diamond in a rock, a shade of faintest +color swam across Mrs. Smith's face and she swung him her profile and +twirled at her rings. + +"And where Genevieve Remington's husband's interests are involved, ladies, +need I go further in emphasizing your welcome into that little home?" + +"Heaven knows it would be a change from the boarding-house, Alys. The +lunches here are beginning to go right against me! That sago pudding +today--and Gallup knowing how I hate starchy desserts!" + +"For the sake of the cause, Miss Emelene, too!" + +"Gallup would have to hold our rooms at half rate." + +"Of course, Mrs. Smith. I'll arrange all that." + +"I--I can't go over until evening, with three trunks to pack." + +"Just fine, Mrs. Smith. You'll be there just in time to greet George at +dinner." + +Miss Emelene fell to stroking the cat, again curled like a sardelle in her +lap. + +"Kitti-kitti-kitti--, does muvver's ittsie Hanna want to go on visit to +Tousin George in fine new ittie house? To fine Tousin Georgie what give +ittsie Hanna big saucer milk evvy day? Big fine George what like ladies and +lady kitties!" + +"Emelene, it's out of the question to take Hanna. You know how George +Remington hates cats! You remember at the Sunday School Bazaar when--" +A grimness descended like a mask over Miss Brand's features. Her mouth +thinned. + +"Very well, then. Without Hanna you can count me out, Penfield. If--" + +"No, no! Why nonsense, Miss Emelene! George doesn't--" + +"This cat has the feelings and sensibilities of a human being." + +"Why of course," cried Penfield Evans, reaching for his hat. "Just you +bring Hanna right along, Miss Emelene. That's only a pet pose of George's +when he wants to tease his relatives, Mrs. Smith. I remember from +college--why I've seen George _kiss_ a cat!" + +Miss Emelene huddled the object of controversy up in her chin, talking down +into the warm gray fur. + +"Was 'em tryin' to 'buse muvver's ittsie bittsie kittsie? Muvver's ittsie +bittsie kittsie!" + +They were in the front hall now, Mr. Evans tugging at the door. + +"I'll run around now and arrange to have your trunks called for at five. My +congratulations and thanks, ladies, for helping the right man toward the +right cause." + +"You're _sure_, Penfield, we'll be welcome?" + +"Welcome as the sun that shines!" + +"If I thought, Penfield, that Hanna wouldn't be welcome I wouldn't budge a +step." + +"Of course she's welcome, Miss Emelene. Isn't she of the gentler sex? +There'll be a cab around for you and Mrs. Smith and Hanna about five. So +long, Mrs. Smith, and many thanks. Miss Emelene, Hanna." + +On the outer steps they stood for a moment in a dapple of sunshine and +shadow from chestnut trees. + +"Good-by, Mr. Evans, until evening." + +"Good-by, Mrs. Smith." He paused on the walk, lifting his hat and flashing +his smile a third time. + +"Good-by, Miss Emelene." + +From the steps Miss Brand executed a rotary motion with the left paw of the +dangling Maltese. + +"Tell nice gentleman by-by. Tum now, Hanna, get washed and new ribbon to +go by-by. Her go to big Cousin George and piddy Cousin Genevieve. By-by! +By-by!" + +The door swung shut, enclosing them. Down the quiet, tree-shaped sidewalk, +Mr. Penfield Evans strode into the somnolent afternoon, turning down Huron +Street. At the remote end of the block and before her large frame mansion +of a thousand angles and wooden lace work, Mrs. Harvey Herrington's low car +sidled to her curb-stone, racy-looking as a hound. That lady herself, large +and modish, was in the act of stepping up and in. + +"Well, Pen Evans! 'Tis writ in the book our paths should cross." + +"Who more pleased than I?" + +"Which way are you bound?" + +"Jenkins' Transfer and Cab Service." + +"Jump in." + +"No sooner said than done." + +Mrs. Herrington threw her clutch and let out a cough of steam. They +jerked and leaped forward. From the rear of the car an orange and black +pennant--_Votes for Women_--stiffened out like a semaphore against the +breeze. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +BY DOROTHY CANFIELD + + +Genevieve Remington sat in her pretty drawing-room and watched the hour +hand of the clock slowly approach five. Five was a sacred hour in her day. +At five George left his office, turned off the business-current with a +click and turned on, full-voltage, the domestic-affectionate. + +Genevieve often told her girl friends that she only began really to live +after five, when George was restored to her. She assured them the psychical +connection between George and herself was so close that, sitting alone in +her drawing-room, she could feel a tingling thrill all over when the clock +struck five and George emerged from his office downtown. + +On the afternoon in question she received her five o'clock electric thrill +promptly on time, although history does not record whether or not George +walked out from his office at that moment. With all due respect for the +world-shaking importance of Mr. Remington's movements, it must be stated +that history had, on that afternoon, other more important events to +chronicle. + +As the clock struck five, the front doorbell rang. Marie, the maid, went +to open the door. Genevieve adjusted the down-sweeping, golden-brown tress +over her right eye, brushed an invisible speck from the piano, straightened +a rose in a vase, and after these traditionally bridal preparations, waited +with a bride's optimistic smile the advent of a caller. But it was Marie +who appeared at the door, with a stricken face of horror. + +"Mrs. Remington! Mrs. Remington!" she whispered loudly. "They've come to +stay. The men are getting their trunks down from the wagon." + +"_Who_ has come to stay? _Where?_" queried the startled bride. + +"The two ladies who came to call yesterday!" + +"_Oh!_" said the relieved Genevieve. "There's some mistake, of course. If +it's Cousin Emelene and Mrs.----" + +She advanced into the hall and was confronted by two burly men with a very +large trunk between them. + +"Which room?" said one of them in a bored and insolent voice. + +"Oh, you must have come to the wrong house," Genevieve assured them with +her pretty, friendly smile. + +She was so happy and so convinced of the essential rightness of a world +which had produced George Remington that she had a friendly smile for every +one, even for unshaven men who kept their battered derby hats on their +heads, had viciously smelling cigars in their mouths, and penetrated to her +sacred front hall with trunks which belonged somewhere else. + +"Isn't this G. L. Remington's house?" inquired one of the men, dropping his +end of the trunk and consulting a dirty slip of paper. + +"Yes, it is," admitted Genevieve, thrilling at the thought that it was also +hers. "This is the place all right, then," said the man. He heaved up his +end of the trunk again, and said once more, "Which room?" + +The repetition fell a little ominously on Genevieve's ear. What on earth +could be the matter? + +She heard voices outside and craning her soft white neck, she saw Cousin +Emelene, with her gray kitten under one arm and a large suitcase in her +other hand, coming up the steps. There was a beatific expression in her +gentle, faded eyes, and her lips were quivering uncertainly. When she +caught sight of Genevieve's sweet face back of the bored expressmen, she +gave a little cry, ran forward, set down her suitcase and clasped her young +cousin in her arms. + +"Oh Genevieve dear, that noble wonderful husband of yours! What have you +done to deserve such a man... out of this Age of Gold!" + +This was a sentiment after Genevieve's own heart, but she found it rather +too vague to meet the present somewhat tense situation. + +Cousin Emelene went on, clasping her at intervals, and talking very fast. +"I can hardly believe it! Now that my time of trial is all over I don't +mind telling you that I was growing embittered and cynical. All those +phrases my dear mother had brought me to believe, the sanctity of the home, +the chivalrous protection of men, the wicked folly of women who leave the +home to engage in fierce industrial struggle." ... At about this point the +expressmen set the trunk down, put their hands on their hips, cocked their +hats at a new angle and waited in gloomy ennui for the conversation to +stop. Cousin Emelene flowed on, her voice unsteady with a very real +emotion. + +"See, dear, you must not blame me for my lack of faith ... but see how it +looked to me. There I was, as womanly a woman as ever breathed, and yet +_I_ had no home to be sanctified, _I_ had never had a bit of chivalrous +protection from any man. And with the New Haven stocks shrinking from one +day to the next, the way they do, it looked as though I would either have +to starve or engage in the wicked, unwomanly folly of earning my own +living. Do you know, dear Genevieve, I had almost come to the point--you +know how the suffragists do keep banging away at their points--I almost +wondered if perhaps they were right and if men really mean those things +about protection and support in place of the vote.... And then George's +splendid, noble-spirited article appeared, and a kind friend interpreted +it for me and told what it really meant, for _me_! Oh, Genevieve." ... The +tears rose to her mild eyes, her gentle, flat voice faltered, she took out +a handkerchief hastily. "It seemed too good to be true," she said brokenly +into its folds. "I've longed all my life to be protected, and now I'm going +to be!" + +"Which room, please?" said the expressman. "We gotta be goin' on." + +Genevieve pinched herself hard, jumped and said "_ouch_." Yes, she was +awake, all right! + +"Oh, Marie, will you please get Hanna a saucer of milk?" said Cousin +Emelene now, seeing the maid's round eyes glaring startled from the +dining-room door. "And just warm it a little bit, don't scald it. She won't +touch it if there's the least bit of a scum on it. Just take that ice-box +chill off. Here, I'll go with you this time. Since we're going to live here +now, you'll have to do it a good many times, and I'd better show you just +how to do it right." + +She disappeared, leaving a trail of caressing baby-talk to the effect that +she would take good care of muvver's ittie bittie kittie. + +She left Genevieve for all practical purposes turned to stone. She felt as +though she were stone, from head to foot, and she could open her mouth +no more than any statue when, in answer to the next repetition, very +peremptory now, of "Which room?" a voice as peremptory called from the +open front door, "Straight upstairs; turn to your right, first door on the +left." + +As the men started forward, banging the mahogany banisters with the corners +of the trunk at every step, Mrs. Brewster-Smith stepped in, immaculate as +to sheer collar and cuffs, crisp and tailored as to suit, waved and netted +as to hair, and chilled steel and diamond point as to will-power. + +"Oh, Genevieve, I didn't see _you_ there! I didn't know why they stood +there waiting so long. I know the house so well I knew of course which room +you'll have for guests. _Dear_ old house! It will be like returning to my +childhood to live here again!" She cocked an ear toward the upper regions +and frowned, but went on smoothly. + +"Such happy girlhood hours as I have passed here! After all there is +nothing like the home feeling, is there, for us women at any rate! +We're the natural conservatives, who cling to the simple, elemental +satisfactions, and there's a heart-hunger that can only be satisfied by a +home and a man's protection! I thought George's description too beautiful +... in his article you know ... of the ideal home with the women of the +family safe within its walls, protected from the savagery of the economic +struggle which only men in their strength can bear without being crushed." + +She turned quickly and terribly to the expressmen coming down the stairs +and said in so fierce a voice that they shrank back visibly, "There's +another trunk to take up to the room next to that. And if you let it down +with the bang you did this one, you'll get something that will surprise +you! Do you hear me!" + +They shrank out, cowed and tiptoeing. Mrs. Brewster-Smith turned back to +her young cousin-by-marriage and murmured, "That was such a true and deep +saying of George's... wherever does such a young man get his wisdom!... +that women are not fitted by nature to cope with hostile forces!" + +Cousin Emelene approached from behind the statue of Genevieve, still frozen +in place with an expression of stupefaction on her white face. The older +woman put her arms around the bride's neck and gave her an affectionate +hug. + +"Oh, dearest Jinny, doesn't it seem like a dream that we're all going to be +together, all we women, in a real home, with a real man at the head of +it to direct us and give us of his strength! It does seem just like that +beautiful old-fashioned home that George drew such an exquisite picture of, +in his article, where the home was the center of the world to the women in +it. It will be to me, I assure you, dear. I feel as though I had come to a +haven, and as though I _never_ would want to leave it!" + +The expressmen were carrying up another trunk now, and so conscious of the +glittering eyes of mastery upon them that they carried it as though it were +the Ark of the Covenant and they its chosen priests. Mrs. Brewster-Smith +followed them with a firm tread, throwing over her shoulder to the stone +Genevieve below, "Oh, my dear, little Eleanor and her nurse will be in +soon. Frieda was taking Eleanor for her usual afternoon walk. Will you just +send them upstairs when they come! I suppose Frieda will have the room in +the third story, that extra room that was finished off when Uncle Henry +lived here. Emelene, you'd better come right up, too, if you expect to get +unpacked before dinner." + +She disappeared, and Emelene fluttered up after her, drawn along by +suction, apparently, like a sheet of paper in the wake of a train. The +expressmen came downstairs, still treading softly, and went out. Genevieve +was alone again in her front hall. To her came tiptoeing Marie, with wide +eyes of query and alarm. And from Marie's questioning face, Genevieve fled +away like one fleeing from the plague. + +"Don't ask me, Marie! Don't _speak_ to me. Don't you dare ask me what ... +or I'll ..." She was at the front door as she spoke, poised for flight like +a terrified doe. "I must see Mr. Remington! I don't know _what_ to tell +you, Marie, till I have seen Mr. Remington! I must see my husband! I don't +know what to say, I don't know what to _think_, until I have seen my +husband." + +Calling this eminently wifely sentiment over her shoulder she ran down the +front walk, hatless, wrapless, just as she was in her pretty flowered and +looped-up bride's house dress. She couldn't have run faster if the house +had been on fire. + +The clicking of her high heels on the concrete sidewalk was a rattling +tattoo so eloquent of disorganized panic that more than one head was thrust +from a neighboring window to investigate, and more than one head was pulled +back, nodding to the well-worn and charitable hypothesis, "Their first +quarrel." The hypothesis would instantly have been withdrawn if any one +had continued looking after the fleeing bride long enough to see her, +regardless of passers-by, fling herself wildly into her husband's arms as +he descended from the trolley-car at the corner. + +Betty Sheridan was sitting in the drawing-room of her parents' house, +rather moodily reading a book on the _Balance of Trade_. + +She had an unconfessed weakness of mind on the subject of tariffs and +international trade. Although when in college she had written a paper on it +which had been read aloud in the Economics Seminar and favorably commented +upon, she knew, in her heart of hearts, that she understood less than +nothing about the underlying principles of the subject. This nettled her +and gave her occasional nightmare moments of doubt as to the real fitness +of women for public affairs. She read feverishly all she could find on the +subject, ending by addling her brains to the point of frenzy. + +She was almost in that condition now although she did not look it in the +least as, dressed for dinner in the evening gown which replaced the stark +linens and tailored seams of her office-costume, she bent her shining head +and earnest face over the pages of the book. + +Penfield Evans took a long look at her, as one looks at a rose-bush in +bloom, before he spoke through the open door and broke the spell. + +"Oh, Betty," he called in a low tone, beckoning her with a gesture redolent +of mystery. + +Betty laid down her book and stared. "What you want?" she challenged him, +reverting to the phrase she had used when they were children together. + +"Come on out here a minute!" he said, jerking his head over his shoulder. +"I want to show you something." + +"Oh, I can't fuss around with you," said Betty, turning to her book again. +"I've got Roberts' _Balance of Trade_ out of the library and I must finish +it by tomorrow." She began to read again. + +The young man stood silent for a moment. "Great Scott!" he was saying to +himself with a sinking heart. "So _that's_ what they pick up for light +reading, when they're waiting for dinner!" + +He had a particularly gone feeling because, although he had made several +successful political speeches on international trade and foreign tariffs, +he was intelligent enough to know in his heart of hearts that he had no +real understanding of the principles involved. He had come, indeed, to +doubt if any one had! + +Now, as he watched the pretty sleek head bent over the book he had supposed +of course was a novel, he felt a qualm of real apprehension. Maybe there +was something in what that guy said, the one who wrote a book to prove +(bringing Queen Elizabeth and Catherine the Great as examples) that the +real genius of women is for political life. Maybe they _have_ a special +gift for it! Maybe, a generation or so from now, it'll be the _men_ who are +disfranchised for incompetence.... He put away as fantastic such horrifying +ideas, and with a quick action of his resolute will applied himself to the +present situation. "Oh Betty, you don't know what you're missing! It's a +sight you'll never forget as long as you live ... oh, come on! Be a sport. +Take a chance!" + +Betty was still suspicious of frivolity, but she rose, looked at her +wrist-watch and guessed she'd have a few minutes before dinner, to fool +away in light-minded society. + +"There's nothing light-minded about this!" Penny assured her gravely, +leading her swiftly down the street, around the corner, up another street +and finally, motioning her to silence, up on the well-clipped lawn of a +handsome, dignified residence, set around with old trees. + +"Look!" he whispered in her ear, dramatically pointing in through the +lighted window. "Look! What do you see?" + +Betty looked, and looked again and turned on him petulantly: + +"What foolishness are you up to now, Penfield Evans!" she whispered +energetically. "Why under the sun did you drag me out to see Emelene +and Alys Brewster-Smith dining with the Remingtons? Isn't it just the +combination of reactionary old fogies you might expect to get together ... +though I didn't know Alys ever took her little girl out to dinner-parties, +and Emelene must be perfectly crazy over that cat to take her here. Cats +make George's flesh creep. Don't you remember, at the Sunday School +Bazaar." + +He cut her short with a gesture of command, and applying his lips to her +ear so that he would not be heard inside the house, he said, "You think all +you see is Emelene and Alys taking dinner _en famille_ with the Remingtons. +Eyes that see not! What you are gazing upon is a reconstruction of +the blessed family life that existed in the good old days, before the +industrial period and the abominable practice of economic independence for +women began! You are seeing Woman in her proper place, the Home, ... if +not her own Home, somebody's Home, anybody's Home ... the Home of the man +nearest to her, who owes her protection because she can't vote. You are +gazing upon ..." + +His rounded periods were silenced by a tight clutch on his wrist. "Penfield +Evans. Don't you dare exaggerate to me! Have they come there to stay! _To +take him at his word!_" + +He nodded solemnly. + +"Their trunks are upstairs in the only two spare-rooms in the house, and +Frieda is installed in the only extra room in the attic. Marie gave notice +that she was going to quit, just before dinner. George has been telephoning +to my Aunt Harriet to see if she knows of another maid...." + +"Whatever ... whatever could have made them _think_ of such a thing!" +gasped Betty, almost beyond words. + +"I did!" said Penfield Evans, tapping himself on the chest. "It was _my_ +giant intelligence that propelled them here." + +He was conscious of a lacy rush upon him, and of a couple of soft arms +which gave him an impassioned embrace none the less vigorous because the +arms were more used to tennis-racquets and canoe-paddles than impassioned +embraces. Then he was thrust back ... and there was Betty, collapsed +against a lilac bush, shaking and convulsed, one hand pressed hard on her +mouth to keep back the shrieks of merriment which continually escaped in +suppressed squeals, the other hand outstretched to ward him off.... + +"No, don't you touch me, I didn't mean a thing by it! I just couldn't help +it! It's too, _too_ rich! Oh Penny, you duck! Oh, I shall die! I shall die! +I never saw anything so funny in my life! Oh, Penny, take me away or I +shall perish here and now!" + +On the whole, in spite of the repulsing hand, he took it that he had +advanced his cause. He broke into a laugh, more light-hearted than he had +uttered for a long time. They stood for a moment more in the soft darkness, +gazing in with rapt eyes at the family scene. Then they reeled away up the +street, gasping and choking with mirth, festooning themselves about trees +for support when their legs gave way under them. + +"_Did_ you see George's face when Emelene let the cat eat out of her +plate!" cried Betty. + +"And did you see Genevieve's when Mrs. Brewster-Smith had the dessert set +down in front of her to serve!" + +"How about little Eleanor upsetting the glass of milk on George's +trousers!" + +"Oh _poor_ old George! Did you ever see such gloom!" + +Thus bubbling, they came again to Betty's home with the door still open +from which she had lately emerged. There Betty fell suddenly silent, all +the laughter gone from her face. The man peered in the dusk, apprehensive. +What had gone wrong, now, after all? + +"Do you know, Penny, we're pigs!" she said suddenly, with energy. "We're +hateful, abominable pigs!" + +He glared at her and clutched his hair. + +"Didn't you see Emelene Brand's face? I can't get it out of my mind! It +makes me sick, it was so happy and peaceful and befooled! Poor old dear! +She _believes_ all that! And she's the only one who does! And its beastly +in us to make a joke of it! She has wanted a home all her life, and she'd +have made a lovely one, too, for children! And she's been kept from it by +all this fool's talk about womanliness." + +"Help! What under the sun are you ..." began Penfield. + +"Why, look here, she's not and never was, the kind any man wants to marry. +She wouldn't have liked a real husband, either ... poor, dear, thin-blooded +old child! But she wanted a _home_ just the same. Everybody does! And if +she had been taught how to earn a decent living, if she hadn't been fooled +out of her five senses by that idiotic cant about a man's doing everything +for you, or else going without ... why she'd be working now, a happy, +useful woman, bringing up two or three adopted children in a decent home +she'd made for them with her own efforts ... instead of making her loving +heart ridiculous over a cat...." + +She dashed her hand over her eyes angrily, and stood silent for a moment, +trying to control her quivering chin before she went into the house. + +The young man touched her shoulder with reverent fingers. "Betty," he said +in a rather unsteady voice, "its _true_, all that bally-rot about women +being better than men. You _are_!" + +With which very modern compliment, he turned and left her. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +BY KATHLEEN NORRIS + + +Her first evening with her augmented family Genevieve Remington never +forgot. It is not at all likely that George ever forgot it, either; but to +George it was only one in the series of disturbing events that followed his +unqualified repudiation of the suffrage cause. + +To Genevieve's tender heart it meant the wreckage, not the preservation of +the home; that lovely home to whose occupancy she had so hopefully looked. +She was too young a wife to recognize in herself the evanescent emotions of +the bride. The blight had fallen upon her for all time. What had been fire +was ashes; it was all over. The roseate dream had been followed by a cruel, +and a lasting, awakening. + +Some day Genevieve would laugh at the memory of this tragic evening, as she +laughed at George's stern ultimatums, and at Junior's decision to be an +engineer, and at Jinny's tiny cut thumb. But she had no sense of humor now. +As she ran to the corner, and poured the whole distressful story into her +husband's ears, she felt the walls of her castle in Spain crashing about +her ears. + +George, of course, was wonderful; he had been that all his life. He only +smiled, at first, at her news. + +"You poor little sweetheart!" he said to his wife, as she clung to his arm, +and they entered the house together. "It's a shame to distress you so, just +as we are getting settled, and Marie and Lottie are working in! But it's +too absurd, and to have you worry your little head is ridiculous, of +course! Let them stay here to dinner, and then I'll just quietly take it +for granted that they are going home--" + +"But--but their trunks are here, dearest!" + +Husband and wife were in their own room now, and Genevieve was rapidly +recovering her calm. George turned from his mirror to frown at her in +surprise. "Their trunks! They didn't lose any time, did they? But do you +mean to say there was no telephoning--no notice at all?" + +"They may have telephoned, George, love. But I was over at Grace Hatfield's +for a while, and I got back just before they came in!" + +George went on with his dressing, a thoughtful expression on his face. +Genevieve thought he looked stunning in the loose Oriental robe he wore +while he shaved. + +"Well, whatever they think, we can't have this, you know," he said +presently. "I'll have to be quite frank with Alys,--of course Emelene has +no sense!" + +"Yes, be quite frank!" Genevieve urged eagerly. "Tell them that of course +you were only speaking figuratively. Nobody ever means that a woman really +can't get along without a man's protection, because look at the women who +_do_--" + +She stopped, a little troubled by the expression on his face. + +"I said what I truly believe, dear," he said kindly. "You know that!" +Genevieve was silent. Her heart beat furiously, and she felt that she was +going to cry. He was angry with her--he was angry with her! Oh, what had +she said, what _had_ she said! + +"But for all that," George continued, after a moment, "nobody but two women +could have put such an idiotic construction upon my words. I am certainly +going to make that point with Alys. A sex that can jump headlong to such +a perfectly untenable conclusion is very far from ready to assume the +responsibilities of citizenship--" + +"George, dearest!" faltered Genevieve. She did not want to make him +cross again, but she could not in all loyalty leave him under this +misunderstanding, to approach the always articulate Alys. + +"George, it was Penny, I'm sure!" she said. "From what they said,--they +talked all the time!--I think Penny went to see them, and sort of--sort +of--suggested this! I'm so sorry, George--" + +George was sulphurously silent. + +"And Penny will make the most of it, you know!" + +Genevieve went on quickly and nervously. "If you should send them back, +tonight, I know he'd tell Betty! And Betty says she is coming to see you +because she has been asked to read an answer to your paper, at the Club, +and she might--she has such a queer sense of humor--" + +Silence. Genevieve wished that she was dead, and that every one was dead. + +"I don't want to criticize you, dear," George said presently, in his +kindest tone. "But the time to _act_, of course, was when they first +arrived. I can't do anything now. We'll just have to face it through, for a +few days." + +It was not much of a cloud, but it was their first. Genevieve went +downstairs with tears in her eyes. + +She had wanted their home to be so cozy, so dainty, so intimate! And now to +have two grown women and a child thrust into her Paradise! Marie was sulky, +rattling the silver-drawer viciously while her mistress talked to her, and +Lottie had an ugly smile as she submitted respectfully that there wasn't +enough asparagus. + +Then George's remoteness was terrifying. He carved with appalling courtesy. +"Is there another chicken, Genevieve?" he asked, as if he had only an +impersonal interest in her kitchen. No, there was only the one. And plenty, +too, said the guests pleasantly. Genevieve hoped there were eggs and bacon +for Marie and Lottie and Frieda. + +"I'm going to ask you for just a mouthful more, it tastes so delicious and +homy!" said Alys. "And then I want to talk a little business, George. It's +about those houses of mine, out in Kentwood...." + +George looked at her blankly, over his drumstick. + +"Darling Tom left them," said Tom's widow, "and they really have rented +well. They're right near the factory, you know. But now, just lately, some +man from the agents has been writing and writing me; he says that one of +them has been condemned, and that unless I do something or other they'll +all be condemned. It's a horrid neighborhood, and I don't like the idea, +anyway, of a woman poking about among drains and cellars. Yet, if I send +the agent, he'll run me into fearful expense; they always do. So I'm going +to take them out of his hands tomorrow, and turn it all over to you, and +whatever you decide will be best!" + +"My dear girl, I'm the busiest man in the world!" George said. "Leave all +that to Allen. He's the best agent in town!" + +"Oh, I took them away from Allen months ago, George. Sampson has them now." + +"Sampson? What the deuce did you change for? I don't know that Sampson is +solvent. I certainly would go back to Allen--" + +"George, I can't!" + +The widow looked at her plate, swept him a coquettish glance, and dropped +her eyes again. + +"Mr. Allen is a dear fellow," she elucidated, "but his wife is dreadful! +There's nothing she won't suspect, and nothing she won't say!" + +"My dear cousin, this isn't a question of social values! It's business!" +George said impatiently. "But I'll tell you what to do," he added, after +scowling thought. "You put it in Miss Eliot's hands; she was with Allen +for some years. Now she's gone in for herself, and she's doing well. We've +given her several things--" "Take it out of a man's hands to put it into a +woman's!" Alys exclaimed. And Emelene added softly: + +"What can a woman be thinking of, to go into a dreadful business like +selling real estate and collecting rents!" + +"Of course, she was trained by men!" Genevieve threw in, a little +anxiously. Alys was so tactless, when George was tired and hungry. She cast +about desperately for some neutral topic, but before she could find one the +widow spoke again. + +"I'll tell you what I'll do, George. I'll bring the books and papers to +your office tomorrow morning, and then you can do whatever you think best! +Just send me a check every month, and it will be all right!" + +"Just gather me up what's there, on the plate," Emelene said, with her +nervous little laugh in the silence. "I declare I don't know when I've +eaten such a dinner! But that reminds me that you could help me +out wonderfully, too, Cousin George--I can't quite call you Mr. +Remington!--with those wretched stocks of mine. I'm sure I don't know what +they've been doing, but I know I get less money all the time! It's the New +Haven, George, that P'pa left me two years ago. I can't understand anything +about it, but yesterday I was talking to a young man who advised me to +put all my money into some tonic stock. It's a tonic made just of plain +earth--he says it makes everything grow. Doesn't it sound reasonable? But +if I should lose all I have, I'm afraid I'd _really_ wear my welcome out, +Genevieve, dear. So perhaps you'll advise me?" + +"I'll do what I can!" George smiled, and Genevieve's heart rose. "But upon +my word, what you both tell me isn't a strong argument for Betty's cause!" +he added good-naturedly. + +"P'pa always said," Emelene quoted, "that if a woman looked about for a man +to advise her, she'd find him! And as I sit here now, in this lovely +home, I think--isn't it sweeter and wiser and better this way? For a +while,--because I was a hot-headed, rebellious girl!--I couldn't see that +he was right. I had had a disappointment, you know," she went on, her kind, +mild eyes watering. Genevieve, who had been gazing in some astonishment +at the once hot-headed, rebellious girl, sighed sympathetically. Every one +knew about the Reverend Mr. Totter's death. + +"And after that I just wanted to be busy," continued Emelene. "I wanted to +be a trained nurse, or a matron, or something! I look back at it now, and +wonder what I was thinking about! And then dear Mama went, and I stepped +into her place with P'pa. He wasn't exactly an invalid, but he did like to +be fussed over, to have his meals cooked by my own hands, even if we were +in a hotel. And whist--dear me, how I used to dread those three rubbers +every evening! I was only a young woman then, and I suppose I was +attractive to other men, but I never forgot Mr. Totter. And Cousin George," +she turned to him submissively, "when you were talking about a woman's real +sphere, I felt--well, almost guilty. Because only that one man ever asked +me. Do you think, feeling as I did, that I should have deliberately made +myself attractive to men?" + +George cleared his throat. "All women can't marry, I suppose. It's in +England, I believe, that there are a million unmarried women. But you have +made a contented and a womanly life for yourself, and, as a matter of fact, +there always _has_ been a man to stand between you and the struggle!" he +said. + +"I know. First P'pa, and now you!" Emelene mused happily. + +"I wasn't thinking of myself. I was thinking that your father left you a +comfortable income!" he said quickly. + +"And now you have asked me here; one of the dearest old places in town!" +Emelene added innocently. + +Genevieve listened in a stupefaction. This was married life, then? Not +since her childhood had Genevieve so longed to stamp, to scream, to +protest, to tear this twisted scheme apart and start anew! + +She was not a crying woman, but she wanted to cry now. She was not--she +told herself indignantly--quite a fool. But she felt that if George went +on being martyred, and mechanically polite, and grim, she would go into +hysterics. She had been married less than six weeks; that night she cried +herself to sleep. + +Her guests were as agreeable as their natures permitted; but Genevieve was +reduced, before the third day of their visit, to a condition of continual +tears. + +This was her home, this was the place sacred to George and herself, and +their love. Nobody in the world,--not his mother, not hers, had their +mothers been living!--was welcome here. She had planned to be such a good +wife to him, so thoughtful, so helpful, so brave when he must be away. +But she could not rise to the height of sharing him with other women, and +saying whatever she said to him in the hearing of witnesses. And then she +dared not complain too openly! That was an additional hardship, for if +George insulted his guests, then that horrid Penny-- + +Genevieve had always liked Penny, and had danced and flirted with him aeons +ago. She had actually told Betty that she hoped Betty would marry Penny. +But now she felt that she loathed him. He was secretly laughing at George, +at George who had dared to take a stand for old-fashioned virtue and the +purity of the home! + +It was all so unexpected, so hard. Women everywhere were talking about +George's article, and expected her to defend it! George, she could have +defended. But how could she talk about a subject upon which she was not +informed, in which, indeed, as she was rather fond of saying, she was +absolutely uninterested? + +George was changed, too. Something was worrying him; and it was hard on the +darling old boy to come home to Miss Emelene and the cat and Eleanor and +Alys, every night! Emelene adored him, of course, and Alys was always +interesting and vivacious, but--but it wasn't like coming home to his own +little Genevieve! + +The bride wept in secret, and grew nervous and timid in manner. Mrs. +Brewster-Smith, however, found this comprehensible enough, and one hot +summer afternoon Genevieve went into George's office with her lovely +head held high, her color quite gone, and her breath coming quickly with +indignation. [Illustration: It was hard on the darling old boy to come home +to Miss Emelene and the cat and Eleanor and Alys every night!] "George--I +don't care what we do, or where we go! But I can't stand it! She said--she +said--she told me--" + +Her husband was alone in his office, and Genevieve was now crying in his +arms. He patted her shoulder tenderly. + +"I'm so worried all the time about dinners, and Lottie's going, and that +child getting downstairs and letting in flies and licking the frosting off +the maple cake," sobbed Genevieve, "that of _course_ I show it! And if I +_have_ given up my gym work, it's just because I was so busy trying to get +some one in Lottie's place! And now they say--they say--that _they_ know +what the matter is, and that I mustn't dance or play golf--the horrible, +spying cats! I won't go back, George, I will not! I--" + +Again George was wonderful. He put his arm about her, and she sat down on +the edge of his desk, and leaned against that dear protective shoulder and +dried her eyes on one of his monogrammed handkerchiefs. He reminded her of +a long-standing engagement for this evening with Betty and Penny, to go out +to Sea Light and have dinner and a swim, and drive home in the moonlight. +And when she was quiet again, he said tenderly: + +"You mustn't let the 'cats' worry you, Pussy. What they think isn't true, +and I don't blame you for getting cross! But in one way, dear, aren't they +right? Hasn't my little girl been riding and driving and dancing a little +too hard? Is it the wisest thing, just now? You have been nervous lately, +dear, and excitable. Mightn't there be a reason? Because I don't have to +tell you, sweetheart, nothing would make me prouder, and Uncle Martin, of +course, has made no secret of how _he_ feels! You wouldn't be sorry, dear?" + +Genevieve had always loved children deeply. Long before this her happy +dreams had peopled the old house in Sheridan Road with handsome, dark-eyed +girls, and bright-eyed boys like their father. + +But, to her own intense astonishment, she found this speech from her +husband distasteful. George would be "proud," and Uncle Martin pleased. +But it suddenly occurred to Genevieve that neither George nor Uncle Martin +would be tearful and nervous. Neither George nor Uncle Martin need eschew +golf and riding and dancing. To be sick, when she had always been so well! +To face death, for which she had always had so healthy a horror! Cousin +Alex had died when her baby came, and Lois Farwell had never been well +after the fourth Farwell baby made his appearance. + +Genevieve's tears died as if from flame. She gently put aside the +sustaining arm, and went to the little mirror on the wall, to straighten +her hat. She remembered buying this hat, a few weeks ago, in the ecstatic +last days of the old life. + +"We needn't talk of that yet, George," she said quietly. + +She could see George's grieved look, in the mirror. There was a short +silence in the office. + +Then Betty Sheridan, cool in pongee, came briskly in. + +"Hello, Jinny!" said she. "Had you forgotten our plan tonight? You're +chaperoning me, I hope you realize! I'm rather difficile, too. Genevieve, +Pudge is outside; he'll take you out and buy you something cold. I took him +to lunch today. It was disgraceful! Except for a frightful-looking mess +called German Pot Roast With Carrots and Noodles Sixty, he ate nothing but +melon, lemon-meringue pie, and pineapple special. I was absolutely ashamed! +George, I would have speech with you." + +"Private business, Betty?" he asked pleasantly. "My wife may not have the +vote, but I trust her with all my affairs!" + +"Indeed, I'm not in the least interested!" Genevieve said saucily. + +She knew George was pleased with her as she went happily away. + +"It's just as well Jinny went," said Betty, when she and the +district-attorney-elect were alone. "Because it's that old bore Colonel +Jaynes! He's come again, and he says he _will_ see you!" + +Deep red rose in George's handsome face. + +"He came here last week, and he came yesterday," Betty said, sitting down, +"and really I think you should see him! You see, George, in that far-famed +article of yours, you remarked that 'a veteran of the civil as well as the +Spanish war' had told you that it was the restless outbreaking of a few +northern women that helped to precipitate the national catastrophe, and he +wants to know if you meant him!" + +"I named no names!" George said, with dignity, yet uneasily, too. + +"I know you didn't. But you see we haven't many veterans of _both_ wars," +Betty went on, pleasantly. "And of course old Mrs. Jaynes is a rabid +suffragist, and she is simply hopping. He's a mild old man, you know, and +evidently he wants to square things with 'Mother.' Now, George, who _did_ +you mean?" + +"A statement like that may be made in a general sense," George remarked, +after scowling thought. + +"You might have made the statement on your own hook," Betty conceded, "but +when you mention an anonymous Colonel, of course they all sit up! He says +that he's going to get a signed statement from you that _he_ never said +that, and publish it!" + +"Ridiculous!" said George. + +"Then here are two letters," Betty pursued. "One is from the corresponding +secretary of the Women's Non-partisan Pacific Coast Association. She says +that they would be glad to hear from you regarding your statement that +equal suffrage, in the western states, is an acknowledged failure." + +"She'll wait!" George predicted grimly. + +"Yes, I suppose so. But she's written to our Mrs. Herrington here, asking +her to follow up the matter. George, dear," asked Betty maternally, "_why_ +did you do it? Why couldn't you let well enough alone!" + +"What's your other letter?" asked George. + +"It's just from Mr. Riker, of the _Sentinel_, George. He wants you to drop +in. It seems that they want a correction on one of your statistics about +the number of workingwomen in the United States who don't want the vote. He +says it only wants a signed line from you that you were mistaken--" + +Refusing to see Colonel Jaynes, or to answer the Colonel's letter, George +curtly telephoned the editor of the _Sentinel_, and walked home at four +o'clock, his cheeks still burning, his mind in a whirl. Big issues should +have been absorbing him: and his mind was pestered instead with these +midges of the despised cause. Well, it was all in the day's work-- + +And here was his sweet, devoted wife, fluttering across the hall, as cool +as a rose, in her pink and white. And she had packed his things, in case +they wanted to spend the night at Sea Light, and the "cats" had gone off +for library books, and he must have some ginger-ale, before it was time to +go for Betty and Penny. + +The day was perfection. The motor-car purred like a racing tiger under +George's gloved hand. Betty and Penny were waiting, and the three young +persons forgot all differences, and laughed and chatted in the old happy +way, as they prepared for the start. But Betty was carrying a book: +_Catherine of Russia_. + +"Do you know why suffragists should make an especial study of queens, +George?" she asked, as she and Penny settled themselves on the back seat. + +"Well, I'll be interlocutor," George smiled, glancing up at the house, from +which his wife might issue at any moment. "Why should suffragists read the +lives of queens, Miss Bones?" + +"Because queens are absolutely the only women in all history who had equal +rights!" Betty answered impassively. "Do you realize that? The only women +whose moral and social and political instincts had full sway!" + +"And a sweet use they made of them, sometimes!" said George. + +"And who were the great rulers," pursued Betty. "Whose name in English +history is like the names of Elizabeth and Victoria, or Matilda or Mary, +for the matter of that? Who mended and conserved and built up what the +kings tore down and wasted? Who made Russia an intellectual power--" + +Again Penny had an odd sense of fear. Were women perhaps superior to men, +after all! + +"I don't think Catherine of Russia is a woman to whom a lady can point with +pride," George said conclusively. Genevieve, who had appeared, shot Betty a +triumphant glance as they started. Pudge waved to them from the candy store +at the corner. + +"There's a new candy store every week!" said Penny, shuddering. "Heaven +help that poor boy; it must be in the blood!" + +"Women must always have something sweet to nibble," George said, leaning +back. "The United States took in two millions last year in gum alone!" + +"Men chew gum!" suggested Betty. + +"But come now, Betty, be fair!" George said. "Which sex eats more candy?" + +"Well, I suppose women do," she admitted. + +"You count the candy stores, down Main Street," George went on, "and ask +yourself how it is that these people can pay rents and salaries just on +candy,--nothing else. Did you ever think of that?" + +"Well, I could vote with a chocolate in my mouth!" Betty muttered +mutinously, as the car turned into the afternoon peace of the main +thoroughfare. + +"You count them on your side, Penny, and I will on mine!" Genevieve +suggested. "All down the street." "Well, wait--we've passed two!" Penny +said excitedly. + +"Go on; there's three. That grocery store with candy in the window!" + +"Groceries don't count!" objected Betty. + +"Oh, they do, too! And drug stores.... Every place that sells candy!" + +"Drug stores and groceries and fruit stores only count half a point," Betty +stipulated. "Because they sell other things!" + +"That's fair enough," George conceded here, with a nod. + +Genevieve and Penny almost fell out of the car in their anxiety not to miss +a point, and George quite deliberately lingered on the cross-streets, so +that the damning total might be increased. + +Laughing and breathless, they came to the bridge that led from the town to +the open fields, and took the count. + +"One hundred and two and a half!" shouted Penny and Geneviève triumphantly. +George smiled over his wheel. + +"Oh, women, women!" he said. "One hundred and sixty-one!" said Betty. There +was a shout of protest. + +"Oh, Betty Sheridan! You didn't! Why, we didn't miss _one_!" + +"I wasn't counting candy stores," smiled Betty. "Just to be different, I +counted cigar stores and saloons. But it doesn't signify much either way, +does it, George?" + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +BY HENRY KITCHELL WEBSTER + + +Of the quartette who, an hour later, emerged from the bath-houses and +scampered across the satiny beech into a discreetly playful surf, Genevieve +was the one real swimmer. She was better even than Penny, and she left +Betty and George nowhere. + +She had an endless repertory of amphibious stunts which she performed with +gusto, and in the intervals she took an equal satisfaction in watching +Penny's heroic but generally disastrous attempts to imitate them. + +The other two splashed around aimlessly and now and then remonstrated. + +Now, it's all very well to talk about two hearts beating as one, and in the +accepted poetical sense of the words, of course Genevieve's and George's +did. But as a matter of physiological fact, they didn't. At the end of +twenty minutes or so George began turning a delicate blue and a clatter as +of distant castanets provided an obligato when he spoke, the same being +performed by George's teeth. + +The person who made these observations was Betty. + +"You'd better go out," she said. "You're freezing." + +It ought to have been Genevieve who said it, of course, though the fact +that she was under water more than half the time might be advanced as her +excuse for failing to say it. But who could venture to excuse the downright +callous way in which she exclaimed, "Already? Why we've just got in! Come +along and dive through that wave. That'll warm you up!" + +It was plain to George that she didn't care whether he was cold or not. +And, though the idea wouldn't quite go into words, it was also clear to him +that an ideal wife--a really womanly wife--would have turned blue just a +little before he began to. + +"Thanks," he said, in a cold blue voice that matched the color of his +finger nails. "I think I've had enough." + +Betty came splashing along beside him. + +"I'm going out, too," she said. "We'll leave these porpoises to their +innocent play." + +This was almost pure amiability, because she wasn't cold, and she'd been +having a pretty good time. Her other (practically negligible) motive was +that Penny might be reminded, by her withdrawal, of his forgotten promise +to teach her to float--and be sorry. Altogether, George would have been +showing only a natural and reasonable sense of his obligations if he'd +brightened up and flirted with her a little, instead of glooming out to sea +the way he did, paying simply no attention to her at all. So at last she +pricked him. + +"Isn't it funny," she said, "the really blighting contempt that swimmers +feel for people who can't feel at home in the water--people who gasp and +shiver and keep their heads dry?" + +She could see that, in one way, this remark had done George good. It helped +warm him up. Leaning back on her hands, as she did, she could see the red +come up the back of his neck and spread into his ears. But it didn't make +him conversationally any more exciting. He merely grunted. So she tried +again. + +"I suppose," she said dreamily, "that the myth about mermaids must be +founded in fact. Or is it sirens I'm thinking about? Perfectly fascinating, +irresistible women, who lure men farther and farther out, in the hope of a +kiss or something, until they get exhausted and drown. I'll really be glad +when Penny gets back alive." + +"And I shall be very glad," said George, trying hard for a tone of +condescending indifference appropriate for use with one who has played +dolls with one's little sister, "I shall really be very glad when you make +up your mind what you are going to do with Penny. He's just about a total +loss down at the office as it is, and he's getting a worse idiot from day +to day. And the worst of it is, I imagine you know all the while what +you're going to do about it--whether you're going to take him or not." + +The girl flushed at that. He was being almost too outrageously rude, even +for George. But before she said anything to that effect, she thought of +something better. + +"I shall never marry any man," she said very intensely, "whose heart is not +with the Cause. You know what Cause I mean, George--the Suffrage Cause. +When I see thoughtless girls handing over their whole lives to men who ..." + +It sounded like the beginning of an oration. + +"Good Lord!" her victim cried. "Isn't there anything else than that to talk +about--_ever_?" + +"But just think how lucky you are, George," she said, "that at home they +all think exactly as you do!" + +He jumped up. Evidently this reminder of the purring acquiescences of +Cousin Emelene and Mrs. Brewster-Smith laid no balm upon his harassed +spirit. + +"You may leave my home alone, if you please." + +He was frightfully annoyed, of course, or he wouldn't have said anything +as crude as that. In a last attempt to recover his scattered dignity, he +caught at his office manner. "By the way," he said, "you forgot to remind +me today to write a letter to that Eliot woman about Mrs. Brewster-Smith's +cottages." + +With that he stalked away to dress. Genevieve and Penny, now shoreward +bound, hailed him. But it wasn't quite impossible to pretend he didn't +hear, and he did it. + +The dinner afterward at the Sea Light Inn was a rather gloomy affair. +George's lonely grandeur was only made the worse, it seemed, by Genevieve's +belated concern lest he might have taken cold through not having gone and +dressed directly he came out of the water. Genevieve then turned very +frosty to Penny, having decided suddenly that it was all his fault. + +As for Betty, though she was as amiable a little soul as breathed, she +didn't see why she should make any particular effort to console Penny, just +because his little flirtation with Genevieve had stopped with a bump. + +Even the ride home in the moonlight didn't help much. Genevieve sat beside +George on the front seat, and between them there stretched a tense, tragic +silence. In the back seat with Penfield Evans, and in the intervals of +frustrating his attempts to hold her hand, Betty considered how frightfully +silly young married couples could be over microscopic differences. + +But Betty was wrong here and the married pair on the front seat were right. + +Just reflect for a minute what Genevieve's George was. He was her knight, +her Bayard, her thoroughly Tennysonian King Arthur. The basis of her +adoration was that he should remain like that. You can see then what a +staggering experience it was to have caught herself, even for a minute, in +the act of smiling over him as sulky and absurd. + +And think of George's Genevieve! A saint enshrined, that his soul could +profitably bow down before whenever it had leisure to escape from the +activities of a wicked world. Fancy his horror over the mere suspicion +that she could be indifferent to his wishes--his comfort--even his health, +because of a mere tomboy flirtation with a man who could swim better than +he could! Most women were like that, he knew--vain, shallow, inconstant +creatures! But was not his pearl an exception? It was horrible to have to +doubt it. + +By three o'clock the next morning, after many tears and much grave +discourse, they succeeded in getting these doubts to sleep--killing them, +they'd have said, beyond the possibility of resurrection. It was the +others who had made all the trouble. If only they could have the world to +themselves--no Cousin Emelene, no Alys Brewster-Smith, no Penfield Evans +and Betty Sheridan, with their frivolity and low ideals, to complicate +things! An Arcadian Island in some Aeonian Sea. + +"Well," he said hopefully, "our home can be like that. It shall be like +that, when we get rid of Alys and her horrible little girl, and Cousin +Emelene and her unspeakable cat. It shall be our world; and no troubles or +cares or worries shall ever get in there!" + +She acquiesced in this prophecy, but even as she did so, cuddling her face +against his own, a low-down, unworthy spook, whose existence in her he must +never suspect, said audibly in her inner ear, "Much he knows about it!" +Betty did not forget to remind George of the letter he was to write to Miss +Eliot about taking over the agency of Mrs. Brewster-Smith's cottages. In +the composition of this letter George washed his hands of responsibility +with, you might say, antiseptic care. + +He had taken pleasure in recommending Miss Eliot, he explained, and Mrs. +Brewster-Smith was acting on his recommendation. Any questions arising out +of the management of the property should be taken up directly with her +client. Miss Eliot would have no difficulty in understanding that the +enormous pressure of work which now beset him precluded him from having +anything more to do with the matter. + +The letter was typed and inclosed in a big linen envelope, with the mess +of papers Alys had dumped upon his desk a few days previously, and it was +despatched forthwith by the office boy. + +"There," said George on a note of grim satisfaction, "that's done!" + +The grimness lasted, but the satisfaction did not. Or only until the return +of the office boy, half an hour later, with the identical envelope and a +three-line typewritten note from Miss Eliot. She was sorry to say, she +wrote, that she did not consider it advisable to undertake the agency for +the property in question. Thanking him, nevertheless, for his courtesy, she +was his very truly, E. Eliot. + +George summoned Betty by means of the buzzer, and asked her, with icy +indignation, what she thought of that. But, as he was visibly bursting with +impatience to say what _he_ thought of it, she gave him the opportunity. + +"I thought you advanced women," he said, "were supposed to stand by each +other--stand by all women--try to make things better for them. One for +all--all for one. That sort of thing. But it really works the other way. +It's just because a woman owns those cottages that Miss Eliot won't have +anything to do with them. She knows that women are unreasonable and hard to +get on with in business matters, so she passes the buck! Back to a man, if +you please, who hasn't any more real responsibility for it than she has." + +There was, of course, an obvious retort to this; namely, that business was +business, and that a business woman had the same privilege a business man +had, of declining a job that looked as if it would entail more bother than +it was worth. But Betty couldn't quite bring herself to take this line. +Women, if they could ever get the chance (through the vote and in other +ways), were going to make the world a better place--run it on a better lot +of ideals. It wouldn't do to begin justifying women on the ground that they +were only doing what men did. As well abandon the whole crusade right at +the beginning. + +George saw her looking rather thoughtful, and pressed his advantage. +Suppose Betty went and saw Miss Eliot personally, sometime today, and urged +her to reconsider. The business didn't amount to much, it was true, and it +no doubt involved the adjustment of some troublesome details. But unless +Miss Eliot would undertake it, he wouldn't know just where to turn. Alys +had quarreled with Allen, and Sampson was a skate. And perhaps a little +plain talk to Alys about the condition of the cottages--"from one of her +own sex," George said this darkly and looked away out of the window at the +time--might be productive of good. + +"All right," Betty agreed, "I'll see what I can do. It's kind of hard to go +to a woman you barely know by sight, and talk to her about her duty, but I +guess I'm game. If you can spare me, I'll go now and get it over with." + +There were no frills about Edith Eliot's real estate office, though the air +of it was comfortably busy and prosperous. + +The place had once been a store. An architect's presentation of an +apartment building, now rather dusty, occupied the show-window. There was +desk accommodation for two or three of those bright young men who make a +selection of keys and take people about to look at houses; there was a +stenographer's desk with a stenographer sitting at it; and back of a table +in the corner, in the attitude of one making herself as comfortable as +the heat of the day would permit, while she scowled over a voluminous +typewritten document, was E. Eliot herself. It was almost superfluous to +mention that her name was Edith. She never signed it, and there was no one, +in Whitewater anyway, who called her by it. + +She was a big-boned young woman (that is, if you call the middle thirties +young), with an intelligent, homely face, which probably got the attraction +some people surprisingly found in it from the fact that she thought nothing +about its looks one way or the other. It was rather red when Betty came in, +and she was making it rapidly redder with the vigorous ministrations of a +man's-size handkerchief. + +She greeted Betty with a cordial "how-de-doo," motioned her to the other +chair at the table (Betty had a fleeting wish that she might have dusted it +before she sat down), and asked what she could do for her. + +"I'm from Mr. Remington's office," Betty said, "Remington and Evans. He +wrote you a note this morning about some cottages that belong to a cousin +of his, Mrs. Brewster-Smith." + +"I answered that note by his own messenger," said E. Eliot. "He should have +got the reply before this." "Oh, he got it," said Betty, "and was rather +upset about it. What I've come for, is to urge you to reconsider." + +E. Eliot smiled rather grimly at her blotting-pad, looked up at Betty, and +allowed her smile to change its quality. What she said was not what she had +meant to say before she looked up. E. Eliot was always upbraiding herself +for being sentimental about youth and beauty in her own sex. She'd never +been beautiful, and she'd never been young--not young like Betty. But the +upbraidings never did any good. + +She said: "I thought I had considered sufficiently when I answered Mr. +Remington's note. But it's possible I hadn't. What is it you think I may +have overlooked?" + +"Why," said Betty, "George thought the reason you wouldn't take the +cottages was because a woman owned them. He used it as a sort of example +of how women wouldn't stick together. He said that you probably knew that +women were unreasonable and hard to deal with and didn't want the bother." + +It disconcerted Betty a little that E. Eliot interposed no denial at +this point, though she'd paused to give her the opportunity. + +"You see," she went on a little breathlessly, "I'm for women suffrage and +economic independence and all that. I think it's perfectly wonderful +that you should be doing what you are--showing that women can be just as +successful in business as men can. Of course I know that you've got a +perfect _right_ to do just what a man would do--refuse to take a piece of +business that wasn't worth while. But--but what we hope is, and what we +want to show men is, that when women get into politics and business they'll +be better and less selfish." + +"Which do you mean will be better?" E. Eliot inquired. "The politics and +the business, or the women?" + +"I mean the politics and the business," Betty told her rather frostily. Was +the woman merely making fun of her? + +E. Eliot caught the note. "I meant my question seriously," she said. "It +has a certain importance. But I didn't mean to interrupt you. Go ahead." +"Well," Betty said, "that's about all. George--Mr. Remington--that is--is +running for district attorney, and he has come out against suffrage as you +know. I thought perhaps this was a chance to convert him a little. It would +be a great favor to him, anyway, if you took the cottages; because he +doesn't know whom to turn to, if you won't. I didn't come to try to tell +you what your duty is, but I thought perhaps you hadn't just looked at it +that way." + +"All right," said E. Eliot. "Now I'll tell you how I do look at it. In the +first place, about doing business for women. It all depends on the woman +you're doing business with. If she's had the business training of a man, +she's as easy to deal with as a man. If she's never had any business +training at all, if business doesn't mean anything to her except some vague +hocus-pocus that produces her income, then she's seven kinds of a Tartar. + +"She has no more notion about what she has a right to expect from other +people, or what they've a right to expect from her, than a white Angora +cat. Of course, the majority of women who have property to attend to have +had it dumped on their hands in middle life, or after, by the wills of +loving husbands. Those women, I'll say frankly, are the devil and all to +deal with. But it's their husbands' and fathers' fault, and not their own. +Anyhow, that isn't the reason I wouldn't take those cottages. + +"It was the cottages themselves, and not the woman who owned them, that +decided me. That whole Kentwood district is a disgrace to civilization. The +sanitary conditions are filthy; have been for years. The owners have been +resisting condemnation proceedings right along, on the ground that the +houses brought in so little rental that it would be practical confiscation +to compel them to make any improvements. Now, since the war boon struck the +mills, and every place with four walls and a roof is full, they're saying +they can't afford to make any change because of the frightful loss they'd +suffer in potential profits. + +"Well, when you agree to act as a person's agent, you've got to act in that +person's interest; and when it's a question of the interest of the owners +of those Kentwood cottages, whether they're men or women, my idea was that +I didn't care for the job." + +"I think you're perfectly right about it," Betty said. "I wouldn't have +come to urge you to change your mind, if I had understood what the +situation was. But," here she held out her hand, "I'm glad I did come, +and I wish we might meet again sometime and get acquainted and talk about +things." + +"No time like the present," said E. Eliot. "Sit down again, if you've got a +minute." She added, as Betty dropped back into her chair, "You're Elizabeth +Sheridan, aren't you?--Judge Sheridan's daughter? And you're working as a +stenographer for Remington and Evans?" + +Betty nodded and stammered out the beginning of an apology for not having +introduced herself earlier. But the older woman waved this aside. + +"What I really want to know," she went on, "if it isn't too outrageous a +question, is what on earth you're doing it for--working in that law office, +I mean?" + +It was a question Betty was well accustomed to answering. But coming from +this source, it surprised her into a speechless stare. + +"Why," she said at last, "I do it because I believe in economic +independence for women. Don't you? But of course you do." + +"I don't know," said E. Eliot. "I believe in food and clothes, and money to +pay the rent, and the only way I have ever found of having those things was +to get out and earn them. But if ever I make money enough to give me an +independent income half the size of what yours must be, I'll retire from +business in short order." + +"Do you know," said Betty, "I don't believe you would. I think you're +mistaken. I don't believe a woman like you could live without working." + +"I didn't say I'd quit working," said E. Eliot. "I said I'd quit business. +That's another thing. There's plenty of real work in the world that won't +earn you a living. Lord! Don't I see it going by right here in this office! +There are things I just itch to get my hands into, and I have to wait and +tell myself 'some day, perhaps!' There's a thing I'd like to do now, and +that's to take a hand in this political campaign for district attorney. It +would kill my business deader than Pharaoh's aunt, so I've got to let it +go. But it would certainly put your friend George Remington up a tall +tree." + +"Oh, you're a suffragist, then?" Betty exclaimed eagerly. "I was wondering +about that. I've never seen you at any of our meetings." + +"I'm a suffragist, all right," said E. Eliot, "but as your meetings are +mostly held in the afternoons, when I'm pretty busy, I haven't been able to +get 'round. + +"I'm curious about Remington," she went on. "I've known him a little, +for years. When I worked for Allen, I used to see him quite often in the +office. And I'd always rather liked him. So that I was surprised, clear +down to the ground, when I read that statement of his in the _Sentinel_. +I'd never thought he was _that_ sort. And from the fact that you work in +his office and like him well enough to call him George one might almost +suppose he wasn't." + +Clearly Betty was puzzled. "Of course," she said, "I think his views about +women are obsolete and ridiculous. But I don't see what they've got to do +with liking him or not, personally." + +E. Eliot's smile became grim again, but she said nothing, so Betty asked a +direct question. + +"That was what you meant, wasn't it?" + +"Yes," the other woman said, "that was what I meant. Why, if you don't mind +plain speaking, it's been my observation that the sort of men who think the +world is too indecent for decent women to go out into, generally have their +own reasons for knowing how indecent it is; and that when they spring +a line of talk like that, they're being sickening hypocrites into the +bargain." + +Betty's face had gone flame color. + +"George isn't like that at all," she said. "He's--he's really fine. He's +old-fashioned and sentimental about women, but he isn't a hypocrite. He +really means those things he says. Why ..." + +And then Betty went on to tell her new friend about Cousin Emelene and Alys +Brewster-Smith, and how George, though he writhed, had stood the gaff. + +"A grown-up man," E. Eliot summed up, "who honestly believes that women are +made of something fine and fragile, and that they ought to be kept where +even the wind can't blow upon them! But good heavens, child, if he really +means that, it makes it all the better for what I was thinking of. You +don't understand, of course. I hadn't meant to tell you, but I've changed +my mind. + +"Listen now. That statement in the _Sentinel_ has set the town talking, of +course, and stirred up a lot of feeling, for and against suffrage. But what +it would be worth as an issue to go to the mat with on election day, is +exactly nothing at all. You go out and ask a voter to vote against a +candidate for district attorney because he's an anti-suffragist, and he'll +say, 'What difference does it make? It isn't up to him to give women the +vote. It doesn't matter to me what his private opinions are, as long as he +makes a good district attorney!' But there is an issue that we _can_ go to +the mat with, and so far it hasn't been raised at all. There hasn't been a +peep." She reached over and laid a hand on Betty's arm. + +"Do you know what the fire protection laws for factories are? And do you +know that it's against the law for women to work in factories at night? +Well, and do you know what the conditions are in every big mill in this +town? With this boom in war orders, they've simply taken off the lid. +Anything goes. The fire and building ordinances are disregarded, and for +six months the mills have been running a night shift as well as a day +shift, on Sundays and week-days, and three-quarters of their operatives are +women. Those women go to work at seven o'clock at night, and quit at six in +the morning; and they have an hour off from twelve to one in the middle of +the night. + +"Now do you see? It's up to the district attorney to enforce the law. Isn't +it fair to ask this defender of the home whether he believes that women +should be home at night or not, and if he does, what he's going to do about +it? Talk about slogans! The situation bristles with them! We could placard +this town with a lot of big black-faced questions that would make it the +hottest place for George Remington that he ever found himself in. + +"Well, it would be pretty good campaign work if he was the hypocrite I took +him to be, from his stuff in the _Sentinel_. But if he's on the level, as +you think he is, there's a chance--don't you see there's a chance that he'd +come out flat-footed for the enforcement of the law? And if he did!... +Child, can you see what would happen if he _did_?" + +Betty's eyes were shining like a pair of big sapphires. When she spoke, it +was in a whisper like an excited child. + +"I can see a little," she said. "I think I can see. But tell me." + +"In the first place," said E. Eliot, "see whom he'd have against him. +There'd be the best people, to start with. Most of them are stockholders in +the mills. Why, you must be, yourself, in the Jaffry-Bradshaw Company! Your +father was, anyway." + +Betty nodded. + +"You want to be sure you know what it means," the older woman went on. +"This thing might cut into your dividends, if it went through." + +"I hope it will," said Betty fiercely. "I never realized before that my +money was earned like that--by women, girls of my age, standing over a +machine all night." She shivered. "And there are some of us, I'm sure," she +went on, "who would feel the way I do about it." + +"Well,--some," E. Eliot admitted. "Not many, though. And then there are the +merchants. These are great times for them--town crammed with people, all +making money, and buying right and left. And then there's the labor vote +itself! A lot of laboring men would be against him. Their women just now +are earning as much as they are. There are a lot of these men--whatever +they might say--who'd take good care not to vote for a man who would +prevent their daughters from bringing in the fifteen, twenty, or +twenty-five dollars a week they get for that night work. + +"Well, and who would be with him? Why, the women themselves. The one chance +on earth he'd have for election would be to have the women organized and +working for him, bringing every ounce of influence they had to bear on +their men--on all the men they knew. + +"Mind you, I don't believe he could win at that. But, win or lose, he'd +have done something. He'd have shown the women that they needed the vote, +and he'd have found out for himself--he and the other men who believe in +fair human treatment for everybody--that they can't secure that treatment +without women's votes. That's the real issue. It isn't that women are +better than men, or that they could run the world better if they got the +chance. It's that men and women have got to work together to do the things +that need doing." + +"You're perfectly wonderful," said Betty, and sat thereafter, for perhaps a +minute and a half, in an entranced silence. + +Then, with a shake of the head, a straightening of the spine, and a good, +deep, business-like preliminary breath, she turned to her new friend and +said, "Well, shall we do it?" + +This time it was E. Eliot's turn to gasp. + +She hadn't expected to have a course of action put up to her in that +instantaneous and almost casual manner. She wasn't young like Betty. She'd +been working hard ever since she was seventeen years old. She'd succeeded, +in a way, to be sure. But her success had taught her how hard success is to +obtain. She saw much farther into the consequences of the proposed campaign +than Betty could see. She realized the bitter animosity that it would +provoke. She knew it was well within the probabilities that her business +would be ruined by it. + +She sat there silent for a while, her face getting grimmer and grimmer all +the time. But she turned at last and looked into the eager face of the girl +beside her, and she smiled,--though even the smile was grim. + +"All right," she said, holding out her hand to bind the bargain. "We'll +start and we'll stick. And here's hoping! We'd better lunch together, +hadn't we?" + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +BY ANNE O'HAGAN + + +Mr. Benjamin Doolittle, by profession White-water's leading furniture +dealer and funeral director, and by the accident of political fortune the +manager of Mr. George Remington's campaign, sat in his candidate's private +office, and from time to time restrained himself from hasty speech by the +diplomatic and dexterous use of a quid of tobacco. + +He found it difficult to preserve his philosophy in the face of George +Remington's agitation over the woman's suffrage issue. + +"It's the last time," he had frequently informed his political cronies +since the opening of the campaign, "that I'll wet-nurse a new-fledged +candidate. They've got at least to have their milk teeth through if they +want Benjamin Doolittle after this." To George, itchingly aware through all +his rasped nerves of Mrs. Herrington's letter in that morning's _Sentinel_ +asking him to refute, if he could, an abominable half column of statistics +in regard to legislation in the Woman Suffrage States, the furniture dealer +was drawling pacifically: + +"Now, George, you made a mistake in letting the women get your goat. Don't +pay no attention to them. Of course their game's fair enough. I will say +that you gave them their opening; stood yourself for a target with that +statement of yours. Howsomever, you ain't obligated to keep on acting as +the nigger head in the shooting gallery. + +"Let 'em write; let 'em ask questions in the papers; let 'em heckle you +on the stump. All that you've got to say is that you've expressed your +personal convictions already, and that you've stood by those convictions in +your private life, and that as you ain't up for legislator, the question +don't really concern your candidacy. And that, as you're running for +district attorney, you will, with their kind permission, proceed to the +subjects that do concern you there--the condition of the court calendar of +Whitewater County, the prosecution of the racetrack gamblers out at Erie +Oval, and so forth, and so forth. + +"You laid yourself open, George, but you ain't obligated in law or equity +to keep on presenting yourself bare chest for their outrageous slings and +arrows." + +"Of course, what you say about their total irrelevancy is quite true," said +George, making the concession so that it had all the belligerency of a +challenge. "But of course I would never have consented to run for office at +the price of muzzling my convictions." + +Mr. Doolittle wearily agreed that that was more than could be expected from +any candidate of the high moral worth of George Remington. Then he went +over a list of places throughout the county where George was to speak +during the next week, and intimated dolefully that the committee could use +a little more money, if it had it. + +He expressed it thus: "A few more contributions wouldn't put any strain to +speak of on our pants' pockets. Anything more to be got out of Old Martin +Jaffry? Don't he realize that blood's thicker than water?" + +"I'll speak to him," growled George. + +He hated Mr. Benjamin Doolittle's colloquialisms, though once he had +declared them amusing, racy, of the soil, and had rebuked Genevieve's +fastidious criticisms of them on an occasion when she had interpreted her +rôle of helpmeet to include that of hostess to Mr. and Mrs. Doolittle--oh, +not in her own home, of course!--at luncheon, at the Country Club! + +"Well, I guess that's about all for today." + +Mr. Doolittle brought the conference to a close, hoisting himself by links +from his chair. + +"It takes $3000 every time you circularize the constituency, you know----" + +He lounged toward the window and looked out again upon the pleasant, mellow +scene around Fountain Square. And with the look his affectation of bucolic +calm dropped from him. He turned abruptly. + +"What's that going on at McMonigal's corner?" he demanded sharply. "I don't +know, I am sure," said George, with indifference, still bent upon teaching +his manager that he was a free and independent citizen, in leading strings +to no man. "It's been vacant since the fire in March, when Petrosini's fish +market and Miss Letterblair's hat st----" + +He had reached the window himself by this time, and the sentence was +destined to remain forever unfinished. + +From the low, old-fashioned brick building on the northeast corner of +Fountain Square, whose boarded eyes had stared blindly across toward the +glittering orbs of its towering neighbor, the Jaffry Building, for six +months, a series of great placards flared. + +Planks had been removed from the windows, plate glass restored, and behind +it he read in damnable irritation: + +"SOME QUESTIONS FOR CANDIDATE REMINGTON." + +A foot high, an inch broad, black as Erebus, the letters shouted at him +against an orange background. Every window of the second story contained a +placard. On the first story, in the show window where Petrosini had been +wont to ravish epicurean eyes by shad and red snapper, perch and trout, +cunningly imbedded in ice blocks upon a marble slab--in that window, framed +now in the hated orange and black, stood a woman. + +She was turning backward, for the benefit of onlookers who pressed close to +the glass, the leaves of a mammoth pad resting upon an easel. + +From their point of vantage in the second story of the Jaffry Building, +the candidate and his manager could see that each sheet bore that horrid +headline: + +"QUESTIONS FOR CANDIDATE REMINGTON." + +The whole population of White water, it seemed to George, was crowded about +that corner. + +"I'll be back in a minute," said Benjie Doolittle, disappearing through +the private office door with the black tails of his coat achieving a true +horizontal behind him. As statesman and as undertaker, Mr. Doolittle never +swerved from the garment which keeps green the memory of the late Prince +Consort. + +As the door opened, the much-tried George Remington had a glimpse of that +pleasing industrial unit, Betty Sheridan, searching through the file for +the copy of the letter to the Cummunipaw Steel Works, which he had recently +demanded to see. He pressed the buzzer imperiously, and Betty responded +with duteous haste. He pointed through the window to the crowd in front of +McMonigal's block. + +"Perhaps," he said, with what seemed to him Spartan self-restraint, "_you_ +can explain the meaning of that scene." + +Betty looked out with an air of intelligent interest. + +"Oh yes!" she said vivaciously. "I think I can. It's a Voiceless Speech." + +"A voice l--" George's own face was a voiceless speech as he repeated two +syllables of his stenographer's explanation. + +"Yes. Don't you know about voiceless speeches? It's antiquated to try to +run any sort of a campaign without them nowadays." + +"Perhaps you also know who that--female--" again George's power of +utterance failed him. Betty came closer to the window and peered out. + +"It's Frances Herrington who is turning the leaves now," she said amiably. +"I know her by that ducky toque." + +"Frances Herrington! What Harvey Herrington is thinking of to allow----" +George's emotion constrained him to broken utterance. "And we're dining +there tonight! She has no sense of the decencies--the--the--the hospitality +of existence. We won't go--I'll telephone Genevieve----" + +"Fie, fie Georgie!" observed Betty. "Why be personal over a mere detail of +a political campaign?" + +But before George could tell her why his indignation against his +prospective hostess was impersonal and unemotional, the long figure of Mr. +Doolittle again projected itself upon the scene. + +Betty effaced herself, gliding from the inner office, and George turned +a look of inquiry upon his manager. + +"Well?" the monosyllable had all the force of profanity. + +"Well, the women, durn them, have brought suffrage into your campaign." + +"How?" + +"How? They've got a list of every blamed law on the statute books relating +to women and children, and they're asking on that sheet of leaves over +there, if you mean to proceed against all who are breaking those laws here +in Whitewater County. And right opposite your own office! It's--it's damn +smart. You ought to have got that Herrington woman on your committee." + +"It's indelicate, unwomanly, indecent. It shows into what unsexed +degradation politics will drag woman. But I'm relieved that that's all +they're asking. Of course, I shall enforce the law for the protection of +every class in our community with all the power of the----" + +"Oh, shucks! There's nobody here but me--you needn't unfurl Old Glory," +counseled Mr. Doolittle, a trifle impatiently. "They're asking real +questions, not blowing off hot-air. Oh, I say, who owns McMonigal's block +since the old man died? We'll have the owner stop this circus. That's the +first thing to do." + +"I'll telephone Allen. He'll know." + +Allen's office was very obliging and would report on the ownership on +McMonigal's block in ten minutes. + +Mr. Doolittle employed the interval in repeating to George some of the +"Questions for Candidate Remington," illegible from George's desk. + +"You believe that 'WOMAN'S PLACE IS IN THE HOME.' Will you enforce the law +against woman's night work in the factories? Over nine hundred women of +Whitewater County are doing night work in the munition plants of Airport, +Whitewater and Ondegonk. What do you mean to do about it?" + +"You 'DESIRE TO CONSERVE THE THREATENED FLOWER OF WOMANHOOD.'" + +A critical listener would have caught a note of ribald scorn in Mr. +Doolittle's drawl, as he quoted from his candidate's statement, via the +voiceless speech placards. + +"To conserve the threatened flower of womanhood, the grape canneries of +Omega and Onicrom Townships are employing children of five and six years +in defiance of the Child Labor Law of this State. Are you going to proceed +against them?" + +"'WOMAN IS MAN'S RAREST HERITAGE.' Do you think man ought to burn her +alive? Remember the Livingston Loomis-Ladd collar factory fire--fourteen +women killed, forty-eight maimed. In how many of the factories in +Whitewater, in which women work, are the fire laws obeyed? Do you mean to +enforce them?" + +The telephone interrupted Mr. Doolittle's hateful litany. + +Alien's bright young man begged to report that McMonigal's block was held +in fee simple by the widow of the late Michael McMonigal. + +Mr. Doolittle juggled the leaves of the telephone directory with the +dazzling swiftness of a Japanese ball thrower, and in a few seconds he was +speaking to the relict of the late Michael. + +George watched him with fevered eyes, listened with fevered ears. The +conversation, it was easy to gather, did not proceed as Mr. Doolittle +wished. + +"Oh! in entire charge--E. Eliot. Oh! In sympathy yourself. Oh, come now, +Mrs. McMonigal----" + +But Mrs. McMonigal did not come now. The campaign manager frowned as he +replaced the receiver. + +"Widow owns the place. That Eliot woman is the agent. The suffrage gang has +the owner's permission to use the building from now on to election. She +says she's in sympathy. Well, we'll have to think of something----" + +"It's easy enough," declared George. "I'll simply have a set of posters +printed answering their questions. And we'll engage sandwich men to carry +them in front of McMonigal's windows. Certainly I mean to enforce the law. +I'll give the order to the _Sentinel_ press now for the answers--definite, +dignified answers." "See here, George." Mr. Doolittle interrupted him with +unusual weightiness of manner. "It's too far along in the campaign for you +to go flying off on your own. You've got to consult your managers. This is +your first campaign; it's my thirty-first. You've got to take advice----" + +"I will not be muzzled." + +"Shucks! Who wants to muzzle, anybody! But you can't say everything that's +inside of you, can you? There's got to be some choosing. We've got to help +you choose. + +"The silly questions the women are displaying over there--you can't answer +'em in a word or in two words. This city is having a boom; every valve +factory in the valley, every needle and pin factory, is makin' munitions +today--valves and needles and pins all gone by the board for the time +being. Money's never been so plenty in Whitewater County and this city +is feelin' the benefits of it. People are buying things--clothes, flour, +furniture, victrolas, automobiles, rum. + +"There ain't a merchant of any description in this county but his business +is booming on account of the work in the factories. You can't antagonize +the whole population of the place. Why, I dare say, some of your own money +and Mrs. Remington's is earning three times what it was two years ago. The +First National Bank has just declared a fifteen per cent. dividend, and +Martin Jaffry owns fifty-four per cent. of the stock. + +"You don't want to put brakes on prosperity. It ain't decent citizenship to +try it. It ain't neighborly. Think of the lean years we've known. You can't +do it. This war won't last forever--" Mr. Doolittle's voice was tinged with +regret--"and it will be time enough to go in for playing the deuce with +business when business gets slack again. That's the time for reforms, +George,--when things are dull." + +George was silent, the very presentment of a sorely harassed young man. He +had not, even in a year when blamelessness rather than experience was his +party's supreme need in a candidate, become its banner bearer without +possessing certain political apperceptions. He knew, as Benjie Doolittle +spoke, that Benjie spoke the truth--White-water city and county would +never elect a man who had too convincingly promised to interfere with the +prosperity of the city and county. + +"Better stick to the gambling out at Erie Oval, George," counseled the +campaign manager. "They're mostly New Yorkers that are interested in that, +anyway." + +"I'll not reply without due consideration and--er--notice," George sullenly +acceded to his manager and to necessity. But he hated both Doolittle and +necessity at the moment. + +That sun-bright vision of himself which so splendidly and sustainingly +companioned him, which spoke in his most sonorous periods, which so +completely and satisfyingly commanded the reverence of Genevieve--that +George Remington of his brave imaginings would not thus have answered +Benjamin Doolittle. + +Through the silence following the furniture man's departure, Betty, at +the typewriter, clicked upon Georgie's ears. An evil impulse assailed +him--impolitic, too, as he realized--impolitic but irresistible. It was +the easiest way in which candidate Remington, heckled by suffragists, +overridden by his campaign committee, mortifyingly tormented by a feeling +of inadequacy, could re-establish himself in his own esteem as a man of +prompt and righteous decisions. + +He might not be able to run his campaign to suit himself, but, by Jove, his +office was his own! + +He went into Betty's quarters and suggested to her that a due sense of the +eternal fitness of things would cause her to offer him her resignation, +which his own sense of the eternal fitness of things would lead him at once +to accept. + +It seemed, he said, highly indecorous of her to remain in the employ of +Remington and Evans the while she was busily engaged in trying to thwart +the ambitions of the senior partner. He marveled that woman's boasted +sensitiveness had not already led her to perceive this for herself. + +For a second, Betty seemed startled, even hurt. She colored deeply and her +eyes darkened. Then the flush of surprise and the wounded feeling died. She +looked at him blankly and asked how soon it would be possible for him to +replace her. She would leave as soon as he desired. + +In her bearing, so much quieter than usual, in the look in her face, George +read a whole volume. He read that up to this time, Betty had regarded her +presence in the ranks of his political enemies as she would have regarded +being opposed to him in a tennis match. He read that he, with that biting +little speech which he already wished unspoken, had given her a sudden, +sinister illumination upon the relations of working women to their +employers. + +He read the question in the back of her mind. Suppose (so it ran in his +constructive fancy) that instead of being a prosperous, protected young +woman playing the wage-earner more or less as Marie Antoinette had played +the milkmaid, she had been Mamie Riley across the hall, whose work was +bitter earnest, whose earnings were not pin-money, but bread and meat and +brother's schooling and mother's health--would George still have made the +stifling of her views the price of her position? + +And if George--George, the kind, friendly, clean-minded man would drive +that bargain, what bargain might not other men, less gentle, less +noble, drive? + +All this George's unhappily sensitized conscience read into Betty +Sheridan's look, even as the imp who urged him on bade him tell her that +she could leave at her own convenience; at once, if she pleased; the supply +of stenographers in Whitewater was adequately at demand. + +He rather wished that Penny Evans would come in; Penny would doubtless take +a high hand with him concerning the episode, and there was nothing which +George Remington would have welcomed like an antagonist of his own size and +sex. + +But Penny did not appear, and the afternoon passed draggingly for the +candidate for the district attorneyship. He tried to busy himself with the +affairs of his clients, but even when he could keep away from his windows +he was aware of the crowds in front of McMonigal's block, of Frances +Herrington, her "ducky" toque and her infernal voiceless speech. + +And when, for a second, he was able to forget these, he heard from the +outer office the unmistakable sounds of a desk being permanently +cleared of its present incumbent's belongings. + +After a while, Betty bade him a too courteous good-by, still with that +abominable new air of gravely readjusting her old impressions of him. And +then there was nothing to do but to go home and make ready for dinner at +the Herrington's, unless he could induce Genevieve to have an opportune +headache. + +Of course Betty had been right. Not upon his masculine shoulders should +there be laid the absurd burden of political chagrin strong enough to break +a social engagement. + +Genevieve was in her room. The library was given over to Alys +Brewster-Smith, Cousin Emelene Brand, two rusty callers and the tea things. +Before the drawing-room fire, Hanna slept in Maltese proprietorship. George +longed with passion to kick the cat. + +Genevieve, as he saw through the open door, sat by the window. She had, it +appeared, but recently come in. She still wore her hat and coat; she had +not even drawn off her gloves. And seeing her thus, absorbed in some +problem, George's sense of his wrongs grew greater. + +He had, he told himself, hurried home out of the jar and fret of a man's +day to find balm, to feel the cool fingers of peace pressed upon hot +eyelids, to drink strengthening draughts of refreshment from his wife's +unquestioning belief, from the completeness of her absorption in him. And +here she sat thinking of something else! + +Genevieve arose, a little startled as he snapped on the lights and grunted +out something which optimism might translate into an affectionate husbandly +greeting. She came dutifully forward and raised her face, still exquisite +and cool from the outer air, for her lord's home-coming kiss. That resolved +itself into a slovenly peck. + +"Been out?" asked George unnecessarily. He tried to quell the unreasonable +inclination to find her lacking in wifely devotion because she had been +out. + +"Yes. There was a meeting at the Woman's Forum this afternoon," she +answered. She was unpinning her hat before the pier glass, and in it +he could see the reflection of her eyes turned upon his image with a +questioning look. + +"The ladies seem to be having a busy day of it." + +He struggled not quite successfully to be facetious over the pretty, +negligible activities of his wife's sex. "What mighty theme engaged your +attention?" + +"That Miss Eliot--the real estate woman, you know--" George stiffened into +an attitude of close attention--"spoke about the conditions under which +women are working in the mills in this city and in the rest of the +county--" Genevieve averted her mirrored eyes from his mirrored face. She +moved toward her dressing-table. + +"Oh, she did! and is the Woman's Forum going to come to grips with the +industrial monster and bring in the millennium by the first of the year?" + +But George was painfully aware that light banter which fails to be +convincingly light is but a snarl. + +Genevieve colored slightly as she studied the condition of a pair of long +white gloves which she had taken from a drawer. + +"Of course the Woman's Forum is only for discussion," she said mildly. "It +doesn't initiate any action." Then she raised her eyes to his face and +George felt his universe reel about him. + +For his wife's beautiful eyes were turned upon him, not in limpid +adoration, not in perfect acceptance of all his views, unheard, unweighed; +but with a question in their blue depths. + +The horrid clairvoyance which harassment and self-distrust had given him +that afternoon enabled him, he thought, to translate that look. The Eliot +woman, in her speech before the Woman's Forum, had doubtless placed the +responsibility for the continuation of those factory conditions upon +the district attorney's office, had doubtless repeated those damn fool, +impractical questions which the suffragists were displaying in McMonigal's +windows. + +And Genevieve was asking them in her mind! Genevieve was questioning +him, his motives, his standards, his intentions! Genevieve was not +intellectually a charming mechanical doll who would always answer "yes" and +"no" as he pressed the strings, and maintain a comfortable vacuity when he +was not at hand to perform the kindly act. Genevieve was thinking on her +own account. What, he wondered angrily, as he dressed--for he could not +bring himself to ask her aid in escaping the Herringtons and, indeed, +was suddenly balky at the thought of the intimacies of a domestic +evening--_what_ was she thinking? She was not such an imbecile as to be +unaware how large a share of her comfortable fortune was invested in the +local industry. Why, her father had been head of the Livingston Loomis-Ladd +Collar Company, when that dreadful fire--! And she certainly knew that his +uncle, Martin Jaffry, was the chief stockholder in the Jaffry-Bradshaw +Company. + +What was the question in Genevieve's eyes? Was she asking if he were the +knight of those women who worked and sweated and burned, or of her and the +comfortable women of her class, of Alys Brewster-Smith with her little +cottages, of Cousin Emelene with her little stocks, of masquerading Betty +Sheridan whose sortie of independence was from the safe vantage-grounds of +entrenched privilege? + +And all that evening as he watched his wife across the crystal and the +roses of the Herrington table, trying to interpret the question that had +been in her eyes, trying to interpret her careful silence, he realized what +every husband sooner or later awakes to realize--that he had married a +stranger. + +He did not know her. He did not know what ambitions, what aspirations apart +from him, ruled the spirit behind that charming surface of flesh. + +Of course she was good, of course she was tender, of course she was +high-minded! But how wide-enveloping was the cloak of her goodness? How far +did her tenderness reach out? Was her high-mindedness of the practical or +impractical variety? + +From time to time, he caught her eyes in turn upon him, with that curious +little look of re-examination in their depths. She could look at him like +that! She could look at him as though appraisals were possible from a wife +to a husband! + +They avoided industrial Whitewater County as a topic when they left the +Herrington's. They talked with great animation and interest of the people +at the party. Arrived at home, George, pleading press of work, went down +into the library while Genevieve went to bed. Carefully they postponed +the moment of making articulate all that, remaining unspoken, might be +ignored. + +It was one o'clock and he had not moved a paper for an hour, when the +library door opened. + +Genevieve stood there. She had sometimes come before when he had worked at +night, to chide him for neglecting sleep, to bring bouillon or chocolate. +But tonight she did neither. + +She did not come far into the room, but standing near the door and looking +at him with a new expression--patient, tender, the everlasting eternal +look--she said: "I couldn't sleep, either. I came down to say something, +George. Don't interrupt me----" for he was coming toward her with sounds +of affectionate protest at her being out of bed. "Don't speak! I want to +say--whatever you do, whatever you decide--now--always--I love you. Even if +I don't agree, I love you." + +She turned and went swiftly away. + +George stood looking at the place where she had stood,--this strange, new +Genevieve, who, promising to love, reserved the right to judge. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +BY MARY HEATON VORSE + + +The high moods of night do not always survive the clear, cold light of day. +Indeed it requires the contribution of both man and wife to keep a high +mood in married life. + +Genevieve had gone in to make her profession of faith to her husband in a +mood which touched the high altitudes. She had gone without any conscious +expectation of anything from him in the way of response. She had vaguely +but confidingly expected him to live up to the moment. + +She had expected something beautiful, a lovely flower of the +spirit--comprehension, generosity. Living up to the demand of the moment +was George's forte. Indeed, there were those among his friends who felt +that there were moments when George lived up to things too brightly and +too beautifully. His Uncle Jaffry, for instance, had his openly skeptical +moments. But George even lived up to his uncle's skepticism. He accepted +his remarks with charming good humor. It was his pride that he could laugh +at himself. + +At the moment of Genevieve's touching speech he lived up to exactly +nothing. He didn't even smile. He only stared at her--a stare which said: + +"Now what the devil do you mean by that?" + +Genevieve had a flicker of bitter humor when she compared her moment of +sentiment to a toy balloon pulled down from the blue by an unsympathetic +hand. + +The next morning, while George was still shaving, the telephone rang. It +was Betty. + +"Can you have lunch with me at Thorne's, where we can talk?" she asked +Genevieve. "And give me a little time tomorrow afternoon?" + +"Why," Geneviève responded, "I thought you were a working girl." + +There was a perceptible pause before Betty replied. + +"Hasn't George told you?" "Told what?" Genevieve inquired. "George hasn't +told me anything." + +"I've left the office." + +"Left! For heaven's sake, why?" + +Betty's mind worked swiftly. + +"Better treat it as a joke," was her decision. There was no pause before +she answered. + +"Oh, trouble with the boss." + +"You'll get over it. You're always having trouble with Penny. + +"Oh," said Betty, "it's not with Penny this time." + +"Not with George?" + +"Yes, with George," Betty answered. "Did you think one couldn't quarrel +with the noblest of his sex? Well, one can." + +"Oh, Betty, I'm sorry." Genevieve's tone was slightly reproachful. + +"Well, I'm not," said Betty. "I like my present job better. It was a good +thing he fired me." + +"_Fired_ you! George fired _you_?" + +"Sure thing," responded Betty blithely. "I can't stand here talking all +day. What I want to know is, can I see you at lunch?" + +"Yes--why, yes, of course," said Genevieve, dazedly. Then she hung up the +receiver and stared into space. + +George, beautifully dressed, tall and handsome, now emerged from his room. +For once his adoring wife failed to notice that in appearance he rivaled +the sun god. She had one thing she wanted to know, and she wanted to know +it badly. It was, + +"Why did you fire Betty Sheridan?" + +She asked this in the insulting "point of the bayonet" tone which angry +equals use to one another the world over. + +Either question or tone would have been enough to have put George's already +sensitive nerves on edge. Both together were unbearable. It was, when you +came down to it, the most awkward question in the world. + +Why, indeed, had he fired Betty Sheridan? He hadn't really given himself an +account of the inward reasons yet. The episode had been too disturbing; and +it was George's characteristic to put off looking on unpleasant facts as +long as possible. Had he been really hard up, which he never had been, he +would undoubtedly have put away, unopened, the bills he couldn't pay. Life +was already presenting him with the bill of yesterday's ill humor, and +he was not yet ready to add up the amount. He hid himself now behind the +austerity of the offended husband. + +"My dear," he inquired in his turn, "don't you think that you had best +leave the details of my office to me?" + +He knew how lame this was, and how inadequate, before Genevieve replied. + +"Betty Sheridan is not a detail of your office. She's one of my best +friends, and I want to know why you fired her. I dare say she was +exasperating; but I can't see any reason why you should have done it. You +should have let her leave." + +It was Betty, with that lamentable lack of delicacy which George had +pointed out to her, who had not been ready to leave. + +"You will have to let me be the judge of what I should or should not have +done," said George. This piece of advice Genevieve ignored. + +"Why did you send her away?" she demanded. + +"I sent her away, if you want to know, for her insolence and her damned bad +taste. If you think--working in my office as she was--it's decent or proper +on her part to be active in a campaign that is against me----" + +"You mean because she's a suffragist? You sent her away for _that_! Why, +really, that's _tyranny_! It's like my sending away some one working for me +for her beliefs----" + +They stood staring at each other, not questioningly as they had yesterday, +but as enemies,--the greater enemies that they so loved each other. + +Because of that each word of unkindness was a doubled-edged sword. They +quarreled. It was the first time that they had seen each other without +illusion. They had been to each other the ideal, the lover, husband, wife. + +Now, in the dismay of his amazement in finding himself quarreling with +the perfect wife, a vagrant memory came to George that he had heard that +Genevieve had a hot temper. She certainly had. He didn't notice how +handsome she looked kindled with anger. He only knew that the rose garden +in which they lived was being destroyed by their angry hands; that the very +foundation of the life they had been leading was being undermined. + +The time of mirage and glamour was over. He had ceased being a hero and +an ideal, and why? Because, forgetting his past life, his record, his +achievement, Genevieve obstinately insisted on identifying him with one +single mistake. He was willing to concede it was a mistake. She had not +only identified him with it, but she had called him a number of wounding +things. + +"Tyrant" was the least of them, and, worse than that, she had, in a +very fury of temper, told him that he "needn't take that pompous"--yes, +"pompous" had been her unpleasant word--"tone" with her, when he had +inquired, more in sorrow than in anger, if this were really his Genevieve +speaking. + +There was a pause in their hostilities. They looked at each other aghast. +Aghast, they had perceived the same awful truth. Each saw that love +[Illustration: "You mean because she's a suffragist? You sent her away for +_that_? Why, really, that's _tyranny_!"] in the other's heart was dead, and +that things never could be the same again. So they stood looking down this +dark gulf, and the light of anger died. + +In a toneless voice: "We mustn't let Cousin Emelene and Alys hear us +quarreling," said George. And Genevieve answered, "They've gone down to +breakfast." + +The two ladies were seated at table. + +"We heard you two love birds cooing and billing, and thought we might +as well begin," said Alys Brewster-Smith. "Regularity is of the highest +importance in bringing up a child." + +Cousin Emelene was reading the _Sentinel._ George's quick eye glanced at +the headlines: + +_Candidate Remington Heckled by Suffragists. Ask Him Leading Questions._ + +"Why, dear me," she remarked, her kind eyes on George, "it's perfectly +awful, isn't it, that they break the laws that way just for a little more +money. But I don't see why they want to annoy dear George. They ought to be +glad they are going to get a district attorney who'll put all those +things straight. I think it's very silly of them to ask him, don't you, +Genevieve?" + +"Let me see," said Genevieve, taking the paper. + +"All he's got to do, anyway, is to answer," pursued Cousin Emelene. + +"Yes, that's all," replied Genevieve, her melancholy gaze on George. +Yesterday she would have had Emelene's childlike faith. But this stranger, +who, for a trivial and tyrannical reason, had sent away Betty--how would +_he_ act? + +"They showed these right opposite your windows?" she questioned. + +"Yes," he returned. "Our friend Mrs. Herrington did it herself. It was the +first course of our dinner. If you think that's good taste--" + +"I would expect it of her," said Alys Brewster-Smith. + +"But it makes it so easy for George," Emelene repeated. "They'll know now +what sort of a man he is. Little children at work, just to make a little +more money--it's awful!" + +"Talking about money, George," said Alys, "have you seen to my houses yet?" +"Not yet," replied the harassed George. "You'll have to excuse my going +into the reasons now. I'm late as it is." + +His voice had not the calm he would have wished for. As he took his +departure, he heard Alys saying, + +"If you'll let me, my dear, I'd adore helping you about the housekeeping. I +don't want to stay here and be a burden. If you'll just turn it over to me, +I could cut your housekeeping expenses in half." + +"Damn the women," was the unchivalrous thought that rose to George's lips. + +One would have supposed that trouble had followed closely enough on George +Remington's trail, but now he found it awaiting him in his office. + +Usually, Penny was the late one. It was this light-hearted young man's +custom to blow in with so engaging an expression and so cheerful a manner +that any comment on his unpunctuality was impossible. Today, instead of a +gay-hearted young man, he looked more like a sentencing judge. + +What he wanted to know was, + +"What have you done to Betty Sheridan? Do you mean to say that you had +the nerve to send her away, send her out of my office without consulting +me--and for a reason like that? How did you think I was going to feel about +it?" + +"I didn't think about you," said George. + +"You bet you didn't. You thought about number one and your precious vanity. +Why, if one were to separate you from your vanity, one couldn't see you +when you were going down the street. Go on, make a frock coat gesture! Play +the brilliant but outraged young district attorney. Do you know what it was +to do a thing of that kind--to fire a girl because she didn't agree with +you?" + +"It wasn't because she didn't agree with me," George interrupted, with +heat. + +"It was the act of a cad," Penny finished. "Look here, young man, I'm going +to tell you a few plain truths about yourself. You're not the sort of +person that you think you are. You've deceived yourself the way other +people are deceived about you--by your exterior. But inside of that +good-looking carcass of yours there's a brain composed of cheese. You +weren't only a cad to do it--you were a fool!" "You can't use that tone to +me!" cried George. + +"Oh, can't I just? By Jove, it's things like that that make one wake up. +Now I know why women have a passion for suffrage. I never knew before," +Penny went on, with more passion than logic. "You had a nerve to make that +statement of yours. You're a fine example of chivalry. You let loose a few +things when you wrote that fool statement, but you did a worse trick when +you fired Betty Sheridan. God, you're a pinhead--from the point of view of +mere tactics. Sometimes I wonder whether you've _any_ brain." + +George had turned white with anger. + +"That'll just about do," he remarked. + +"Oh, no, it won't," said Penny. "It won't do at all. I'm not going to +remain in a firm where things like this can happen. I wouldn't risk my +reputation and my future. You're going to do the decent thing. You're going +to Betty Sheridan and tell her what you think of yourself. She won't come +back, I suppose, but you might ask her to do that, too. And now I'm going +out, to give you time to think this over. And tonight you can tell me what +you've decided. And then I'll tell you whether I'm going to dissolve our +partnership. Your temper's too bad to decide now. Maybe when you've done +that she won't treat me like an unsavory stranger." + +He left, and George sat down to gloomy reflection. + +To do him justice, the idea of apologizing to Betty had already occurred to +him. If he put off the day of reckoning, when the time came he would pay +handsomely. He realized that there was no use in wasting energy and being +angry with Penny. He looked over the happenings of the last few hours and +the part he had played in them, and what he saw failed to please him. He +saw himself being advised by Doolittle to concentrate on the Erie Oval. +He heard him urging him not to be what Doolittle called unneighborly. The +confiding words of Cousin Emelene rang in his ears. + +He saw himself, in a fit of ill-temper, discharging Betty. He saw +Genevieve, lovely and scornful, urging him to be less pompous. All this, he +had to admit, he had brought on himself. Why should he have been so angry +at these questions? Again Emelene's remark echoed in his ear. He had only +to answer them--and he was going to concentrate on the Erie Oval! + +There came a knock on the door, and a breezy young woman demanded, + +"D'you want a stenographer?" + +George wanted a stenographer, and wanted one badly. He put from him the +whole vexed question in the press of work, and by lunch time he made up his +mind to have it out with Betty. There was no use putting it off, and he +knew that he could have no peace with himself until he did. He felt very +tired--as though he had been doing actual physical work. He thought of +yesterday as a land of lost content. But he couldn't find Betty. + +He bent his steps toward home, and as he did so affection for Genevieve +flooded his heart. He so wanted yesterday back--things as they had been. He +so wanted her love and her admiration. He wanted to put his tired head on +her shoulder. He couldn't bear, not for another moment, to be at odds with +her. + +He wondered what she had been doing, and how she had spent the morning. He +imagined her crying her heart out. He leaped up the steps and ran up to his +room. In it was Alys Brewster-Smith. She started slightly. + +"I was just looking for some cold cream," she explained. + +"Where's Genevieve?" George asked. + +"Oh, she's out," Alys replied casually. "She left a note for you." + +The note was a polite and noncommittal line informing George that Genevieve +would not be back for lunch. He felt as though a lump of ice replaced his +heart. His disappointment was the desperate disappointment of a small boy. + +He went back to the gloomy office and worked through the interminable day. +Late in the afternoon Mr. Doolittle lounged heavily in. + +"Have some gum, George?" he inquired, inserting a large piece in his own +mouth. + +He chewed rhythmically for a space. George waited. He knew that chewing gum +was not the ultimate object of Mr. Doolittle's visit. + +"Don't women beat the Dutch?" he inquired at last. "Yes sir, mister; they +do!" + +"What's up now?" George inquired. "The suffragists again?" + +"Nope; not on the face of it they ain't. It's the Woman's Forum that's +doin' this. They've got a sweet little idea. 'Seein' Whitewater Sweat' they +call it. + +"They're goin' around in bunches of twos, or mebbe blocks o' five, seein' +all the sights; an' you know women ain't reasonable, an' you can't reason +with them. They're goin' to find a pile o' things they won't like in this +little burg o' ours, all right, all right. An' they'll want to have things +changed right off. I want to see things changed m'self. I'd like to, but +them things take time, an' that's what women won't understand. + +"Jimminee, I've heard of towns all messed up and candidates ruined just +because the women got wrought up over tenement-house an' fire laws an' +truck like that. Yes sir, they're out seein' Whitewater this minut, or +will be if you can't divert their minds. Call 'em off, George, if you can. +Get 'em fussy about sumpen else." + +"Why, what have I to do with it?" George inquired. + +"Well, I didn't know but what you might have sumpen," said Mr. Doolittle +mildly. "It's that young lady that works here, Miss Sheridan, an' your wife +what's organizin' it. Planning it all out to Thorne's at lunch they was, +an' Heally was sittin' at the next table and beats it to me. You can see +for yerself what a hell of a mess they'll make!" + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +BY ALICE DUER MILLER + + +It was a relief to both men when at this point the door of the office +opened and Martin Jaffry entered. + +Not since the unfortunate anti-suffrage statement of George's had Uncle +Martin dropped in like this. George, looking at him with that first swift +glance that often predetermines a whole interview, made up his mind +that bygones were to be bygones. He greeted his uncle with the warmest +cordiality. + +"Well, George," said Uncle Martin, "how are things going?" + +"I'm going to be elected, if that's what you mean," answered George. + +Doolittle gave a snort. "Indeed, are ye?" said he. "As a friend and +well-wisher, I'm sure I'm delighted to hear the news." "Do I understand +that you have your doubts, Mr. Doolittle?" Jaffry inquired mildly. + +"There's two things we need and need badly, Mr. Jaffry," said Doolittle. +"One's money--" + +"A small campaign contribution would not be rejected?" + +"But there's something we need more than money--and God knows I never +expected to say them words--and that's common sense." + +"Good," said Uncle Martin, "I have plenty of that, too!" + +"Then for the love of Mike pass some of it on to this precious nephew of +yours." + +"What seems to be the matter?" + +"It's them women," said Doolittle. + +Uncle Martin turned inquiringly to George: "The tender flowers?" he +suggested. + +"Look here, Uncle Martin," said George, who had had a good deal of this +sort of thing to bear, "I don't understand you. Do you believe in woman +suffrage?" + +Uncle Martin contemplated a new crumpling of his long-suffering cap before +he answered. "Yes and no, George. I believe in it in the same way that +I believe in old age and death. I can't avoid them by denying their +existence." + +"But you fight against them, and put them off as long as you can." + +"But I yield a little to them, too, George. What is it? Has Genevieve +become a convert to suffrage?" + +"Has Genevieve--has my wife----" + +Then George remembered that his uncle was an older man and that chivalry is +not limited to the treatment of the weaker sex. + +"No," he said with a calm hardly less magnificent than the tempest would +have been, "no, Uncle Martin, Genevieve has not become a suffragist." + +"Well," said Doolittle rising, as if such things were hardly worth his +valuable time, "I fail to see the difference between a suffragette an' a +woman who goes pokin' her nose into what----" + +"You're speaking of my wife, Mr. Doolittle," said George, with a +significant lighting of the eye. + +"Speakin' in general," said Doolittle. + +Uncle Martin was interested. "Has Genevieve been--well, we won't say poking +the nose--but taking a responsible civic interest where it would be better +if she didn't?" + +"It seems," answered George, casting an angry glance at his campaign +manager, "that Mr. Doolittle has heard from a friend of his who overheard a +conversation between Betty Sheridan and my wife at luncheon. From this he +inferred that the two were planning an investigation of some of the city's +problems." + +Uncle Martin looked relieved. + +"Oh, your wife and your stenographer. That can be stopped, I suppose, +without undue exertion." + +"Betty is no longer my stenographer." + +"Left, has she?" said Jaffry. "I had an idea she would not stay with you +long." + +This intimation was not agreeable to George. He would have liked to explain +that Miss Sheridan's departure had been dictated by the will of the head of +the firm; in fact he opened his mouth to do so. But the remembrance that +this would entail a long and wearisome exposition of his reasons caused +him to remain silent, and his uncle went on: "Well, anyhow, you can get +Geneviève to drop it." + +If Doolittle had not been there, George would have been glad to discuss +with his uncle, who had, after all, a sort of worldly shrewdness, how far a +man is justified in controlling his wife's opinions. But before an audience +now a trifle unsympathetic, he could not resist the temptation of making +the gesture of a man magnificently master in his own house. + +He smiled quite grandly. "I think I can promise that," he said. + +Doolittle got up slowly, bringing his jaws together in a relentless bite on +the unresisting gum. + +"Well," he said, "that's all there is to it." And he added significantly as +he reached the door, "If you kin _do_ it!" + +When the campaign manager had gone, Uncle Martin asked very, very gently: +"You don't feel any doubt of being able to do it, do you, George?" + +"About my ability to control--I mean influence, my wife? I feel no doubt at +all." + +"And Penfield, I suppose, can tackle Betty? You won't mind my saying that +of the two I think your partner has the harder job." + +A slight cloud appeared upon the brow of the candidate. + +"I don't feel inclined to ask any favor of Penny just at present," he said +haughtily. "Has it ever struck you, Uncle Martin, that Penny has an unduly +emotional, an almost feminine type of mind?" + +"No," said the other, "it hasn't, but that is perhaps because I have never +been sure just what the feminine type of mind is." + +"You know what I mean," answered George, trying to conceal his annoyance at +this sort of petty quibbling. "I mean he is too personal, over-excitable, +irrational and very hard to deal with." + +"Dear me," said Jaffry. "Is Geneviève like that?" + +"Geneviève," replied her husband loyally, "is much better poised than most +women, but--yes,--even she--all women are more or less like that." + +"All women and Penny. Well, George, you have my sympathy. An excitable +partner, an irrational stenographer, and a wife that's very hard to +deal with!" + +"I never said Geneviève was hard to deal with," George almost shouted. + +"My mistake--thought you did," answered his uncle, now moving rapidly away. +"Let me know the result of the interview, and we'll talk over ways and +means." And he shut the door briskly behind him. + +George walked to the window, with his hands in his pockets. He always liked +to look out while he turned over grave questions in his mind; but this +comfort was now denied to him, for he could not help being distracted by +the voiceless speech still relentlessly turning its pages in the opposite +window. + +The heading now was: + +DOES THE FIFTY-FOUR-HOUR-A-WEEK LAW APPLY TO FLOWERS? + +He flung himself down on his chair with an exclamation. He knew he had to +think carefully about something which he had never considered before, and +that was his wife's character. + +Of course he liked to think about Geneviève--; of her beauty, her +abilities, her charms; and particularly he liked to think about her love +for him. + +A week ago he would have met the present situation very simply. He would +have put his arm about her and said: "My darling, I think I'd a little +rather you dropped this sort of thing for the present." And that would have +been enough. + +But he knew it would not be enough now. He would have to have a reason, a +case. + +"Heavens," he thought, "imagine having to talk to one's wife as if she were +the lawyer for the other side." + +He did not notice that he was reproaching Geneviève for being too +impersonal, too unemotional and not irrational enough. + +When he went home at five, he had thought it out. He put his head into the +sitting-room, where Alys was ensconced behind the tea-kettle. + +"Come in, George dear," she called graciously, "and let me give you a +really good cup of tea. It's some I've just ordered for you, and I think +you'll find it an improvement on what you've been accustomed to." George +shut the door again, pretending he had not heard; but he had had time +enough to note that dear little Eleanor was building houses out of his most +treasured books. + +The memory of his quarrel with his wife had been partly obliterated by +memories of so many other quarrels during the day that it was only when he +was actually standing in her room that he remembered how very bitter their +parting had been. + +He stood looking at her doubtfully, and it was she who came forward and put +her arms about him. They clung to each other like two children who have +been frightened by a nightmare. + +"We mustn't quarrel again, George," she said. "I've had a real, true, +old-fashioned pain in my heart all day. But I think I understand better now +than I did. I lunched with Betty and she made me see." + +"What did Betty make you see?" asked George nervously, for he had not +perfect confidence in Miss Sheridan's visions. + +"That it was all a question of efficiency. She said that in business a +man's stenographer is just an instrument to make his work easier, and if +for any reason at all that instrument does not suit him he is justified in +getting rid of it, and in finding one that does." + +"Betty is very generous," he said coldly. He wanted to hear his wife say +that she had not thought him pompous; it was very hard to be thankful for a +mere ethical rehabilitation. + +Part of his thought-out plan was that Geneviève must herself tell him of +the Woman's Forum's investigation; it would not do for him to let her know +he had heard of it through a political eavesdropper. So after a moment he +added casually: + +"And what else did Betty have to say?" + +"Nothing much." + +His heart sank. Was Geneviève becoming uncandid? + +"Nothing else," he said. "Just to justify me in your eyes?" + +She hesitated, "No, that was not quite all, but it is too early to talk +about it yet." + +"Anything that interests you, my dear, I should like to hear about from the +beginning." Perhaps Geneviève was not so unemotional after all, for at this +expression of his affection, her eyes filled with tears. + +"I long to tell you," she said. "I only hesitated on your account, but of +course I want all your help and advice. It's this: There seems to be no +doubt that the conditions under which women are working in our factories +are hideous--dangerous--the law is broken with perfect impunity. I know you +can't act on rumors and hearsay. Even the inspectors don't give out the +truth. And so we are going to persuade the Woman's Forum to abandon its old +policy of mere discussion. + +"We--Betty and I--are going to get the members for once to act--to make an +investigation; so that the instant you come into the office you will have +complete information at your disposal--facts, and facts and facts on which +you can act." + +She paused and looked eagerly at her husband, who remained silent. Seeing +this she went on: + +"I know what you're thinking. I thought of it myself. Am I justified in +using my position in the Woman's Forum to further your political career? +Well, my answer is, it isn't your political career, only; it's truth and +justice that will be furthered." + +Here in the home there was no voiceless speech to make the view +intolerable, and George moved away from his wife and walked to the window. +He looked out on his own peaceful trees and lawn, and on Hanna, like a +tiger in the jungle, stalking a competent little sparrow. + +A temptation was assailing George. Suppose he did put his opposition to +this investigation on a high and mighty ground? Suppose he announced a +moral scruple? But no, he cast Satan behind him. + +"Geneviève," he said, turning sharply toward her, "this question puts our +whole attitude to a test. If you and I are two separate individuals, with +different responsibilities, different interests, different opinions, then +we ought to be consistent; that ought to mean economic independence of +each other, and equal suffrage; it means that husband and wife may become +business competitors and political opponents. + +"But if, as you know I believe, a man and woman who love each other are +one, are a unit as far as society is concerned, why then our interests are +identical, and it is simply a question of which of us two is better able to +deal with any particular situation." + +"But that is what I believe, too, George." + +"I hoped it was, dear; I know it used to be. Then you must let me act for +you in this matter." + +"Yes, in the end; but an investigation--" + +"My darling, politics is not an ideal; it is a practical human institution. +Just at present, from the political point of view, such an investigation +would do me incalculable harm." + +"George!" + +He nodded. "It would probably lose me the election." + +"But why?" + +"Geneviève, am I your political representative or not?" + +"You are," she smiled at him, "and my dear love as well; but may I not even +know why?" + +"If you dismissed the cook, and I summoned you before me and bade you give +me your reasons for such an action, would you not feel in your heart that I +was disputing your judgment?" + +She looked at him honestly. "Yes, I should." + +"And I would not do such a discourteous thing to you. In the home you are +absolute. Whatever you do, whatever you decide, is right. I would not dream +of questioning. Will you not give me the same confidence in my special +department?" + +There was a short pause; then Geneviève held out her hand. + +"Yes, George," she said, "I will, but on one condition----" + +"_I_ did not make conditions, Geneviève." + +"You do not have to, my dear. You know that I am really your representative +in the house; that I am really always thinking of your wishes. You must do +the same as my political representative. I mean, if I am not to do this +work myself, you must do it for me." + +"Even if I consider it unwise?" + +"Unwise to protect women and children?" + +"Geneviève," he said seriously, as one who confides something not +always confided to women, "enforcing law sometimes does harm." + +"But an investigation----" + +"That's where you are ignorant, my dear. If an investigation is made, +especially if the women mix themselves up in it, then we shall have no +choice but enforcement." + +She had sunk down on her sofa, but now she sprang up. "And you don't mean +to enforce the law" in respect of women? Is that why you don't want the +investigation?" + +"Not at all. You are most unjust. You are most illogical, Geneviève. All +I am asking is that the whole question should not be taken up at this +moment--just before election." + +"But this is the only moment when we can find out whether or not you are a +candidate who will do what we want." + +"_We_, Geneviève! Who do you mean by 'we'?" + +She stared for a second at him, her eyes growing large and dark with +astonishment. + +"Oh, George," she gasped finally, "I think I meant women when I said 'we.' +George, I'm afraid I'm a _suffragist_. And oh," she added, with a sort of +wail, "I don't want to be, I don't want to be!" + +"Damn Betty Sheridan," exclaimed George. "This is all her doing." + +His wife shook her head. "No," she said, "it wasn't Betty who made me see." + +"Who was it?" + +"It was you, George." + +"I don't understand you." + +"You made me see why women want to vote for themselves. How can you +represent me, when we disagree fundamentally?" + +"How can we disagree fundamentally when we love each other?" + +"You mean that because we love each other, I must think as you do?" + +"What else could I mean, darling?" + +"You might have meant that you would think as I do." + +George glanced at her in deep offense. + +"We have indeed drifted far apart," he said. + +At this moment there was a knock at the door, and the news was conveyed to +George that Mr. Evans was downstairs asking to see him. + +"Oh dear," said Geneviève, "it seems as if we never could get a moment by +ourselves nowadays. What does Penny want?" + +"He wants to tell me whether he intends to dissolve partnership or not." + +Any fear that his wife had disassociated herself from his interests +should have been dispelled by the tone in which she exclaimed: "Dissolve +partnership! Penny? Well, I never in my life! Where would Penny be without +you, I should like to know! He must be crazy." + +These words made George feel happier than anything that had happened to him +throughout this day. His self-esteem began to revive. + +"I think Penny has been a little hasty," he said, judicially but not +unkindly. "He lost all self-control when he heard I had let Betty go." + +"Isn't that like a man," said Geneviève, "to throw away his whole future +just because he loses his temper?" + +George did not directly answer this question, and his wife went on. +"However, it will be all right. He has seen Betty this afternoon, and she +won't let him do anything foolish." + +George glanced at her. "You mean that Betty will prevent his leaving the +firm?" + +"Of course she will." + +George walked to the door. + +"I seem to owe a good deal to my former stenographer," he said, "my wife, +my partner; next, perhaps it will be my election." + + + + +CHAPTER X + +BY ETHEL WATTS MUMFORD + + +Penny, pacing the drawing-room with pantheresque strides, came to a tense +halt as Remington entered. + +"Well?" he said, his eyes hard, his unwelcoming hands thrust deep into his +pockets. + +That identical "well" with its uptilt of question had been on George's +tongue. It was a monosyllable that demanded an answer. Penny had got ahead +of him, forced him, as it were, into the witness chair, and he resented it. + +"Seems to me," he began hotly, "that you were the one who was going to +make the statements--' whether or no,' I believe, we were to continue in +partnership." + +"Perhaps," retorted Penny, with the air of allowing no great importance to +that angle of the argument, "but what I want to know is, _are_ you going to +be a square man, and own up you were peeved into being a tyrant? And when +you've done that, are you going to tell Betty, and apologize?" + +George hesitated, trapped between his irritation and the still small voice. + +"Look here," he said, with that amiable suavity that had won him many a +concession, "you know well enough I don't want to hurt Betty's feelings. If +she feels that way about it, of course I'll apologize." + +His partner looked at him in blank amazement. + +"Gad!" he exclaimed as if examining a particularly fine specimen of some +rare beetle, "what a bounder." + +"Meaning me?" snapped George. + +"Don't dare to quibble. Look me in the eye." + +There was a third degree fatality about the usually debonair Penny that +exacted obedience. George unwillingly looked him in the eye, and had a +ghastly feeling of having his suddenly realized smallness X-rayed. + +"You know damned well you acted like a cad," Penny continued, "and I want +to know, for all our sakes, if you're man enough to own it?" + +George's fundamental honesty mastered him. Anger died from his eyes. His +clenched hands relaxed and began an unconscious and nervous exploration for +a cigarette. + +"Since you put it that way," he said, "and it happens that my conscience +agrees with you--I'll go you. I _was_ a cad, and I'll tell Betty so. +Confound it!" he growled, "I don't know _what's_ come over me these days. +I've got to get a grip on myself." + +"You _bet_ you have," said Penny, hauling his fists from his trousers as if +with an effort. Then he grinned. "Betty said you would." + +George's eyes darkened. + +"And I'll tell you now," Penny went on, "since you've turned out at least +half-decent, Betty'll let you off that apology thing. _She_ wasn't the +one who was exacting it--not she. _I_ couldn't stand for your highfalutin +excuses for being--well, never mind--we all get our off days. But don't +you get off again like that if----" Penny hesitated. "If you want me for a +partner," which seemed the obvious conclusion, was tame. "If you want to +hang on to any one's respect," he finished. + +"Say, though," he murmured, "Betty'll give me 'what for' for drubbing you. +She actually took your side--said--oh, never mind--tried to make me think +of her just as if she was any old Mamie--the stenog--tried to prune out +personal feeling." + +"By Jove," he ruminated, "that girl's a corker!" + +He raised forgiving eyes from his contemplation of the rug. + +"Well, old man, blow me to a Scotch and soda, and I'll be going. Dinged if +it wouldn't have broken me all up to have busted with you, even if you are +a box of prunes. Shake." + +George shook, but he was far from happy. What he had gained in peace of +mind he had lost in self-conceit. His resentment against the pinch of +circumstance was deepening to cancerous vindictiveness. + +As Pennington left with a cheery good-by and a final half-cynical word of +advice "to get onto himself" George mounted the stairs slowly and came +face to face with Geneviève, obviously in wait for him. + +"What happened?" she inquired, with an anxious glance at his corrugated +brow. + +George did not feel in a mood to describe his retreat, if not defeat. + +"Oh, nothing. We had a highball. I think I made him--well--it's all right." + +"There, I knew Betty'd make him see reason," she smiled. "I'm awfully glad. +I've a real respect for Penny's judgment after all, you know." + +"Meaning, you have your doubts about mine." + +"No, meaning only just what I said--_just_ that. By the way, George, I wish +you'd take time to look into Alys' real estate. Somebody ought to, and if +you're really representing her----" + +"Oh, good heavens!" he exclaimed impatiently, angered by her swift +transition from his own to another's affairs. "I can't! I simply can't! +Haven't you any conception of how busy I am?" + +"I know, dear; I _do_ know. But something must be done. The Health +Department," she explained, "has sent in complaint after complaint, and +Miss Eliot simply won't handle the property unless she's allowed to spend +a lot setting things to rights. Alys says it's absurd; none of the other +property owners out there are doing anything, and _she_ won't. So, nobody's +looking after it, and somebody should." + +"Who told you all this?" he demanded. "Miss E. Eliot, I suppose." + +His wife nodded. "And she's right," she added. + +"Well, perhaps she is," he allowed. "I'll get Alien to act as her agent +again. He's in with all the politicians; he ought to be able to stall off +the department." + +The words slipped out before he realized their import, but at Genevieve's +wide stare of amazement he flushed crimson. "I mean--lots of these +complaints are really mere red tape; some self-important employee is trying +to look busy. A little investigation usually puts that straight." + +"Of course," she acquiesced, and he breathed a sigh of relief. "That +happens, too, but Miss Eliot says that the conditions out there are really +dreadful." + +"I'll talk to Allen," said George with an affectation of easy dismissal of +the subject; + +But Genevieve's mind appeared to have grown suddenly persistent. At dinner +she again brought up the subject, this time directing her troubled gaze and +troubling words at her guest. + +"Alys," she said abruptly, "I really think you ought to go out to +Kentwood--to see about your property out there, I mean." + +Mrs. Brewster-Smith looked up, rolling her large eyes in frank amazement. + +"Go out there? What for? It isn't the sort of a district a lady cares to be +seen in, I'm told; and, besides, George is looking after that for me. _He_ +understands such matters, and I frankly own _I_ don't. Business makes me +quite dizzy," she added with a flash of very white teeth. + +Geneviève hesitated, then went to the point. + +"But you must advise with your agent, Alys. The property is _yours_." + +Alys raised sharply penciled brows. "I have utter confidence in George," +she answered in a tone of finality that brought an adoring look from +Emelene, and her usual Boswellian echo: "Of _course_." + +George squirmed uneasily. Such a vote of confidence implied accepted +responsibility, and he acknowledged to himself that he wanted to and would +dodge the unwelcome burden. He turned a benign Jovian expression on Mrs. +Brewster-Smith and condescended to explain. + +"I have considered what is best for you, and I will myself see Allen and +request him to take your real-estate affairs in charge again. Neither +Sampson nor--er--Eliot is, I think, advisable for your best interests." + +At the mention of the last name Genevieve's expressive face stretched to +speak; then she closed her lips with self-controlled determination. Mrs. +Brewster-Smith looked at her host in scandalized amazement. + +"But I _told_ you," she almost whimpered, "that his wife is simply +impossible." + +George smiled tolerantly. "But his wife isn't doing the business. It's the +business, not the social interests, we have to consider. + +"Oh, but she is in the business," Alys explained. "I think it's because +she's jealous of him; she wants to be around the office and watch him." + +Geneviève interposed. "Mrs. Allen owns a lot of land herself, and she looks +after it. It seems quite natural to me." + +"But she _has_ a husband," Alys rebuked. + +"Yes," agreed Geneviève, "but she probably married him for a husband, not a +business agent." + +George felt the reins of the situation slipping from him, so he jerked the +curb of conversation. + +"We are beside the issue," he said in his most legal manner. "The fact is +that Allen knows more about the Kentwood district and the factory values +than any one else, and I feel it my duty to advise Alys to leave her +affairs in his hands. I'll see him for you in the morning." + +He turned to Alys with a return of tolerantly protective inflection in his +voice. + +Geneviève shrugged, a faint ghost of a shrug. Had George been less absorbed +in his own mental discomforts, he would have discovered there and then that +the matter of his speech, not the manner of his delivery, was what held his +wife's attention. No longer could rounded periods and eloquent sophistry +hide from her his thoughts and intentions. + +A telephone call interrupted the meal. He answered it with relief, bowing a +hurried, self-important excuse to the ladies. But the voice that came over +the wire was not modulated in tones of flattery. + +"Say," drawled the campaign manager, "you'd better get a hump on, and come +over here to headquarters. There's a couple of gents here who want a word +with you." + +The tone was ominous, and George stiffened. "Very well, I'll be right over. +But you can pretty well tell them where I stand on the main issues. Who's +at headquarters?" + +A snort of disgust greeted the inquiry. The snort told George that +seasoned campaigners did not use the telephone with such casual lack of +circumspection. The words were in like manner enlightening. "Well, there +might be Mr. Julius Caesar, and then again Mr. George Washington might drop +in. What I'm putting you wise to," he added sharply, "is that you'd better +get on to your job." + +There was a click as of a receiver hung up with a jerk, and a subdued +giggle that testified to the innocent attention of the telephone operator. + +With but a pale reflection of his usual courtesy the harassed candidate +left the bosom of his family. No sooner had he taken his departure than the +bosom heaved. + +"My dear girl," said Alys, "if you take that tone with your husband +you'll never hold him--never. Men won't stand for it. You're only hurting +yourself." + +"What tone?" Genevieve inquired as she rose calmly and led the way to the +drawing-room. + +"I mean"--Mrs. Brewster-Smith slipped a firm, white hand across Genevieve's +shoulders--"you shouldn't try to force issues. It looks as if you didn't +have confidence in your husband, and men, to _do_ and _be_ their best, must +feel perfect trust from the woman they love. You don't mind my being so +frank, dear, but we women must help one another--by our experience and our +intuitions." + +Geneviève looked at her. Oblique angles had become irritatingly +fascinating. "I'm beginning to think so more and more," she replied. + +"It's for your own good, dear," Alys smiled. + +"Yes," Geneviève agreed. "I understand. Things that hurt are often for our +good, aren't they? We have to be _made_ to realize facts really to know +them." + +"Coffee, dear?" inquired Alys, assuming the duties of hostess. + +Geneviève shook her head. "No. I find I've been rather wakeful of late: +perhaps it's coffee. Excuse me. I must telephone." + +A moment later she returned beaming. + +"I have borrowed a car for tomorrow, and I want you and Emelene to come +with me for a little spin. We ought to have a bright day; the night is +wonderful. Poor George," she sighed, "I wish he didn't have to be away so +much." + +"His career is yours, you know," kittenishly bromidic, Emelene comforted +her. The following day fulfilled the promise of its predecessor. Clear and +balmy, it invited to the outer, world, and it was with pleased anticipation +that Genevieve's guests prepared for the promised outing. Geneviève glanced +anxiously into her gold mesh bag. The motor was hired, not borrowed. + +She had permitted herself this one white lie. + +She ushered her guests into the tonneau and took her place beside the +chauffeur. Their first few stops were for such prosaic purchases as the +household made necessary; there was a pause at the post office, another at +the Forum, where Geneviève left two highly disgruntled women waiting +for her while with a guilty sense of teasing her prey she prolonged her +business. The sight of their stiffened figures and averted faces when she +returned to them kindled a new amusement. + +At last they were settled comfortably, and the car turned toward the +suburbs. + +The town streets were passed and lines of villa homes thinned. The ornate +colonial gates of the Country Club flashed by. Now the sky to the right was +dark with the smoke of the belching chimneys of many factories. For a block +or two cottages of the better sort flanked the road; then, grim, ugly +and dilapidated, stretched the twin "improved" sections of Kentwood and +Powderville. In the air was an acrid odor. Soot begrimed everything. The +sodden ground was littered with refuse between the shacks, which were +dignified by the title of "Workmen's Cottages." + +Amid the confusion, irregular trodden paths led, short-cutting, toward the +clattering, grinding munition plants. For a space of at least half an acre +around the huge iron buildings the ground, with sinister import, was +kept clear of dwellings, but in all directions outside of the inclosure +thousands of new yellow-pine shacks testified to the sudden demand for +labor. A large weather-beaten signboard at a wired cross-road bore the +name of "Kentwood," plus the advice that the office was adjacent for the +purchase or lease of the highly desirable villa sites. + +The motor drew up and Genevieve alighted. For the first time since their +course had been turned toward the unlovely but productive outskirts, +Geneviève faced her passengers. Alys' face was pale. Emelene's expression +was puzzled and worried, as a child's is worried when the child is suddenly +confronted by strange and gloomy surroundings. + +"There is some one in the renting office," said Geneviève with quiet +determination. "I'll find but. We shall need a guide to go around with us. +Emelene, you needn't get out unless you wish to." + +Emelene shuffled uneasily, half rose, and collapsed helplessly back on +the cushions, like a baby who has encountered the resistance of his buggy +strap. + +"I--if you'll excuse me, Geneviève, dear, I won't get out. I've only got +on my thin kid slippers. I didn't expect to put foot on the pavement this +morning, you know." + +"Very well, then, Alys!" Genevieve's voice assumed a note of command her +mild accents had never before known. + +Alys' brilliant eyes snapped. "I have no desire," she said firmly, with all +the dignity of an affronted lady, "to go into this matter." "I know you +haven't. But I'm going to walk through. _I_ am making a report for the +Woman's Forum." + +Alys' face crimsoned with anger. + +"You have no right to do such a thing," she exclaimed. "I shall refuse you +permission. You will have to obtain a permit." + +"I have one," Geneviève retorted, "from the Health Department. And--I am to +meet one of the officers here." + +Mrs. Brewster-Smith's descent from the tonneau was more rapid than +graceful. + +"What are you trying to do?" she demanded. "Geneviève, I don't understand +you." + +"Don't you?" + +The diffident girl had suddenly assumed the incisive strength of observant +womanhood. + +"I think you _do_. I am going to show you your own responsibilities, if +that's a possible thing. I'm not going to let you throw them on George +because he's a man and your kin; and I shan't let him throw them on an +irresponsible agent because he has neither the time nor the inclination +to do justice to himself, to you, nor to these people to whom he is +responsible." + +She waved a hand down the muddy, jumbled street. + +The advent of an automobile had had its effect. Eager faces appeared at +windows and doors. Children frankly curious and as frankly neglected +climbed over each other, hanging on the ragged fences. Two mongrel dogs +strained at their chains, yelping furiously. Geneviève crossed to the +little square building bearing a gilt "office" sign. There was no response +to her imperative knock, but a middle-aged man appeared on the porch of the +adjoining shack and observed her curiously. + +"Wanta rent?" he called jëeringly. + +"Are you in charge here?" Geneviève inquired. + +"Sorter," he temporized. "Watcha want?" + +"I want some one who knows something about it to go around Kentwood with +us." + +"What for?" he snarled. "I got my orders." + +"From whom?" countered Geneviève. + +"None of your business, as I can see." He eyed her narrowly. "But my orders +is to keep every one nosin' around here without no good raison _out_ of the +place--and I don't think _you're_ here to rent, nor your friend, neither. +Besides, there ain't nothin' to rent." + +Mrs. Brewster-Smith colored. The insult to her ownership of the premises +stung her to resentment. + +"My good man," she said sharply. "I happen to be the proprietor of North +Kent wood." + +"Then you'd better beat it." The guardian grinned. "There's a dame been +here with one of them fellers from the town office." + +"Where are they now?" questioned Genevieve sharply. + +"Went up factory way. But if you _ain't_ one of them lady nosies, you'd +better beat it, I tell you." + +Genevieve looked up the street. "Very well, we'll walk on up. This is North +Kentwood, isn't it?" + +"Ain't much choice," he shrugged, "but it is. You can smell it a mile. Say, +you lady owner there"--he laughed at his own astuteness in not being taken +in--"you know the monikers, don't you? South Kentwood, 'Stinktown'; North +Kentwood, 'Swilltown'?" He grinned, pulled at his hip pocket and, +extracting a flat glass flask, took a prolonged swig and replaced the +bottle with a leer. + +The two incongruous visitors were already negotiating the muddy +thoroughfare between the dilapidated dwellings. Presently these gave place +to roughly knocked together structures for two and three families. + +The number of children was surprising. Now and again a shrill-voiced woman, +who seemed the prototype of her who lived in the shoe, came to admonish her +young and stare with hostile eyes at the invaders. Refuse, barrels, cans, +pigs, dogs, chickens, were on all sides, with here and there a street +watering trough, fed, apparently, by an occasional tap at the wide-apart +hydrants, installed by the factories for protection in case of fire, as +evidenced by the signs staked by the apparatus. + +"What do they pay you for these cottages?" Geneviève inquired suddenly. + +Mrs. Brewster-Smith, whose curiosity concerning her possessions had been +aroused by the physical evidence of the same, balanced on a rut and +surveyed her tormentor angrily. + +"I'm sure I don't know. I've told you before I don't understand such +matters, and I see nothing to be gained by coming here." + +Geneviève pushed open a battered gate, walked up to the door and knocked. + +"What are you doing?" her companion called, querulously. + +A noise of many pattering feet on bare floors, a strident order for +silence, and the door swung open. A young girl stood in the doorway. Behind +her were a dozen or more children, varying from toddlers to gawky girls and +boys of school age. + +Genevieve's eyes widened. "Dear me," she exclaimed, "they aren't all +_yours_!" + +The young woman grinned mirthlessly. "I should say not!" she snapped. "They +pays me to look out for 'em--their fathers and mothers in the factory. +Watcha want?" + +"What do you pay for a house like this?" + +The hired mother's brow wrinkled, and her lips drew back in an ugly snarl. +"They robs us, these landlords does. We gotter be 'longside the works, so +they robs us. What do I pay for this? Thirty a month, and at that 'tain't +fit for no dawg to live in. I could knock up a shack like this with tar +paper, I could. + +"And what do we get? I gotter haul the water in a bucket, and cook on an +oil stove, and they hists the price of the ile, 'cause he comes by in a +wagon with it. The landlords is squeezing the life out of us, I tell ye." + +She paused in her tirade to yell at her charges. Then she turned again to +the story of her wrongs. + +"And of all the pest holes I ever seen, this is the plum worst. There's +chills an' fever an' typhoid till you can't rest, an' them kids is abustin' +with measles an' mumps an' scarlet fever. That I ain't got 'em all myself's +a miracle." + +"You ought to have a district nurse and inspector/' said Geneviève, amused, +in spite of her indignation, at the dark picture presented. + +"Distric' nothin'," the other sneered. "There ain't nothin' here but rent +an' taxes--doggone if I don't quit. There's plenty to do this here mindin' +work, an' I bet I could make more at the factory. They're payin' grand for +overtime." + +Geneviève looked at the thin shoulders and narrow chest of the girl, noted +her growing pallor and wondered how long such a physique could withstand +the strain of hard work and overtime. She sighed. Something of her thoughts +must have shown in her face, for the girl reddened and her lips tightened. +Without another word she slammed the door in her visitor's face. + +Mrs. Brewster-Smith cackled thin laughter. + +"That's what you get for interfering," she jeered, so angry with her +hostess for this forced inspection of her source of income that she +was ready to sacrifice the comforts of her extended visit to have the +satisfaction of airing her resentment. + +"Poor soul!" said Geneviève. "Thirty a month!" Her eyes ran over the rows +of crowded shacks. "The owners must get together and do something here," +she said. "These conditions are simply vile." + +"It's probably all these people are used to," Alys snapped, "And, besides, +if they went further into town it'd cost them the trolley both ways, and +all the time lost. It's the location they pay for. Mr. Alien told me not +two months ago he thought rents could be raised." + +"If you all co-operate," Genevieve continued her own line of thought, "you +could at least clean the place and make it _safe_ to live in, even if they +haven't any comforts." + +Her face brightened. Around the corner came the strong, solid figure of +Miss Eliot; behind her trotted a bespectacled young man who carried a +pigskin envelope under his arm and whose expression was far from happy. + +"Hello!" called Miss Eliot. "So you did come. I'm glad of it. Let me +present Mr. Glass to you. The department lent him to me for the day. And +what do you think of it, now that you can see it?" + +"Glad to meet you," said Genevieve, nodding to the health officer. "What do +I think of it? What does Mr. Glass think? That's more important. Oh, let me +present you--this is Mrs. Brewster-Smith." + +Miss Eliot's face showed no surprise, though her eyes twinkled, but Mr. +Glass was frankly taken aback. + +"Mrs. Brewster--Smith----Brewster--Smith," he stammered. "Oh--er--" he +gripped his pigskin folio as if about to search its contents to verify the +name. "The--er--the owner?" he inquired. + +Alys stiffened. "My dear husband left me this property. I have never before +seen it." + +"I'm very glad," beamed Mr. Glass, "to see that we shall have your +co-operation in our efforts to do something definite for this section--and +measures must be taken quickly. As you see, there is no sanitation, no +trenching, no mosquito-extermination plant. Malaria and typhoid are +prevalent; it's all very bad, very bad, indeed. And you'd hardly believe, +Mrs. Brewster-Smith, what difficulties we are having with the owners as a +class. The five biggest have formed an association. I suppose you've heard +about it. They must have made an effort to interest you "--he stopped +short, remembering that her name appeared on the lists of the "Protective +League." + +"Really"--Alys had recovered her hauteur and the aloofness becoming the +situation--"I know nothing whatever about what measures my agents have +thought it advisable to take." + +Mr. Glass choked and glanced uneasily at Miss Eliot. + +That lady grinned, almost the grin of a gamin. "You needn't look at _me_, +Mr. Glass. I don't represent Mrs. Brewster-Smith." + +"Oh, I know, I know," Mr. Glass hastened to exonerate his companion. + +"I believe Miss Eliot declined the honor," Genevieve's voice was heard. + +"I did," the agent affirmed. She laughed shortly. "Otherwise you would +hardly find me here in my present capacity. One does not 'run with the hare +and hunt with the hounds,' you know." + +Alys lost her temper. It seemed to her she was ruthlessly being forced to +shoulder responsibilities she had been taught to shirk as a sacred feminine +right. Therefore, feeling injured, she voiced her innocence. + +"Your husband, my dear Geneviève, has been good enough to administer my +little estate. Whatever he has done, or now plans to do, meets with _my_ +entire approval." + +The thrust went home in more directions than one. Miss Eliot turned her +frank gaze upon the speaker, while she slowly nodded her head as if +studying a perfect specimen of a noxious species. Mr. Glass gasped. There +was political material in the statement. He looked anxiously at the wife +of the gentleman implicated, but in her was no fear and no manner of +trembling. Instead, the light of battle shone in her eyes. + +"My dear Alys," she said, "my husband has told you that he is too busy a +man to give your affairs his personal attention. He can only advise you and +turn the executive side over to another. His experience does not extend +to the stock market or to real estate. It is an imposition to throw your +burdens upon him. If you derive benefits from ownership, you must educate +yourself to accept your duty to society." + +"Indeed!" flared Alys, furious at this public arraignment. "May I ask if +you intend to continue this insulting attitude?" "If you mean, do I expect +hereafter to be a live woman and not a parasite--I do." + +Mrs. Brewster-Smith turned on her heel and walked away, teetering over the +ruts and holes of the path. + +Genevieve looked distressed. "I'm sorry," she breathed, "I'm ashamed, but +it _had_ to come out. I--I couldn't stand it any longer. I--beg everybody's +pardon. I'm sure, it was awfully bad manners of me. Oh, dear--" she +faltered, half turned, and, with a gesture of appeal toward Mrs. +Brewster-Smith's slowly retreating back, moved as if to follow. + +"I wouldn't go after her," said E. Eliot. "Of course, you haven't had +experience. You don't know how much self-restraint you've got to build up, +but you're here now, and I'm sure Mr. Glass understands. _He's_ got to come +up against all sorts of exasperations on _his_ job, too. He won't take +any stock in Mrs. Brewster-Smith's trying to tie your husband up to these +wretched conditions. + +"He's looking forward to seeing an honest, public-spirited district +attorney get into office--even if your husband doesn't yet see that women +have anything to say about it. They may heckle him in order to force him to +come out on his intentions about the graft, and the eight-hour day, and the +enforcement of the law, but they don't doubt his honesty. When he know's +what's what, I guess the public can trust him to do the right thing. Only +he's got to be shown." + +As she talked, giving Geneviève time to recover from her upheaval, the +three investigators were plowing their way up and down byways equally +depressing and insanitary. Silence ensued. Occasionally an expression of +commiseration or condemnation escaped one or another of the party. + +Suddenly a raucous whistle tore the air, followed by another and another, +declaring the armistice of the noon hour. Iron gates in the surrounding +wall were opened, a stream of men and women poured out, grimed, +sweat-streaked and voluble. The two women and their escort paused and +watched the oncoming swarm of humanity. + +Around the corner, just ahead, strode a giant of a man, followed by a +red-faced, unkempt, familiar figure--the man in charge of the renting +office. The giant came forward threateningly. + +"What youse doing?" he growled. He jerked his jersey, displaying a brass +badge, P. A. Guard. + +"Git outer here--git," he called. + +Mr. Glass stepped forward, displaying his Health Department permit. The +giant laughed. + +"Say, sonny," he sneered, "that don't go--see. Them tin fakes don't git by. +If you're one of them guys, you come here wit' McLaughlin, and youse +can rubber. But we've had enough of this stuff. Them dames is no blind, +neither. I'm guard for the owners here, and we ain't takin' no chances wit' +trouble makers--git. Git a move on!" + +"The department," spluttered Glass, "shall hear of this." + +"That's all right. McLaughlin's the boss. Tell 'em not to send a kid to do +a man's job." + +Geneviève was too amazed to protest. It was her first experience of +defiance of Law and Order by Law and Order. + +Meanwhile, the first stragglers of the released army of toilers were nearly +upon them. The giant observed their approach, and the look of menace +deepened on his huge, congested face. + +"Move on, now--move on," he snarled, and herded them forward in advance of +the workers. + +Sheepishly the three obeyed, but Miss Eliot was not silent. + +"Your name?" she demanded in judicial command. + +The very terseness of her question seemed to jerk an unwilling answer from +the guard. + +"Michael Mehan." + +"And you're employed by the Owners' Protective League?" + +"Sure." + +"Have they given you orders to keep strangers out of the district?" + +"I have me orders, and I know what they be. I'm duly sworn in as extra +guard--and I'm not the only one, neither." + +"Did _he_ come after you?" Miss Eliot indicated the ruffian at his side. + +"I seen the lady owner blew the bunch," that worthy remarked with a hoarse +chuckle. "I wised Mike, all right. Whatcha goin' to do about it?" + +"Mrs. Brewster-Smith, the owner," Miss Eliot observed, "didn't seem to know +that she had employed you. How about that?" + +"I'm put here by the O.P.L. That's good enough fer yer lady +owner--now--ain't it? The things them nosey dames thinks they can git by +wit'!" he observed to the guard, and swore an oath that made Mr. Glass turn +to him with unexpected fury. + +"You may pretend to think that I'm not what I represent myself to be, but +let me tell you, McLaughlin is going to hear of this. One more insult +to these ladies and I'll make it my business to go personally to your +employers. Get me?" + +"Shut your trap, Jim," snarled Mehan. "Yer ain't got no orders fer no fancy +language." He leered at Geneviève. "Now we've shooed the chickens out, +we're tru'." With a wave of his huge paw he indicated the highway the turn +of the path revealed. + +Geneviève looked to the right, where the car should be waiting her. It +was gone. Evidently the indignant Mrs. Brewster-Smith had expedited the +departure. Miss Eliot read her discomfiture. + +"My car is right down here behind that palatial mansion with the hole in +the roof and the tin-can extension. Thank you very much for your escort," +she added, turning to the two representatives of the Protective League. "My +name, by the way, is E. Eliot. I am a real-estate agent and my office is at +22 Braston Street. You might mention it in your report." + +The little car stood waiting, surrounded by a group of admiring children. +Its owner stepped in briskly, backed around and received her passengers. + +"Well," she smiled as they drew out on the traveled highway, "how do you +like the purlieus of our noble little city?" + +Genevieve was silent. Then she spoke with conviction. + +"When George is in power--and he's _got_ to be--the Law will be the Law. I +know him." + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +BY MARJORIE BENTON COOK + + +George Remington walked toward headquarters with more assurance than he +felt. He resented Doolittle's command that he appear at once. He was +beginning to realize the pressure which these campaign managers were +bringing to bear upon him. He was not sure yet how far he could go, in +out-and-out defiance of them and their dictates. + +He knew that he had absolutely no ambitions, no interests in common with +these schemers, whose sole idea lay in party patronage, in manipulating +every political opportunity--in short, in reaping where they had sown. +The question now confronting him was this: was he prepared to sell his +political birthright for the mess of pottage they offered him? + +He stood a second at the door of the office, peering through the reeking, +smoke-filled atmosphere, to get a bird's-eye view of the situation before +he entered. + +Mr. Doolittle sat on the edge of a table monologuing to Wes' Norton and Pat +Noonan. Mr. + +Norton was the president of the Whitewater Commercial Club, composed of the +leading merchants of the town, and Mr. Noonan was the apostle of the liquor +interests. Remington felt his back stiffen as he stepped among them. + +"Good-evening, gentlemen," he said briskly. + +"H'are ye, George?" drawled Doolittle. + +"There was something you wanted to discuss with me?" + +"I dunno as there's anything to discuss, but there's a few things Wes' an' +Pat an' me'd like to say to ye. There ain't no two ways of thinkin' about +the prosperity of Whitewater, ye know, George. The merchants in this town +is satisfied with the way things is boomin'. The factory workers is gittin' +theirs, with high wages an' overtime. The stockholders is makin' no kick on +the dividends--as ye know, George, being one of them. + +"Now, we don't want nuthin' to disturb all this If the fact'ries is +crackin' the law a bit, why, it ain't the first time such things has got +by the inspector. The fact'ry managers'd like some assurance from ye that +ye're goin' to keep yer hands off before they line up the fact'ry hands to +vote for ye." + +Doolittle paused here. George nodded. + +"When are ye comin' out with a plain statement of yer intentions, George?" +inquired Mr. Norton in a conciliatory tone. + +"The voters in this town will get a clear statement of my stand on all the +issues of this campaign in plenty of time, gentlemen." + +"That's all right fer the voter, but ye can't stall _us_ wit' that kind of +talk--" began Noonan. + +"Wait a minute, Pat," counseled Doolittle. "George means all right. He's +new to this game, but he means to stand fer the intrusts of his party, +don't ye, George?" + +"I should scarcely be the candidate of that party if I did not." + +"I ain't interested in no oratory. Are ye or are ye not goin' to keep yer +hands off the prosperity of Whitewater?" demanded Noonan angrily. + +"Look here, Noonan, I am the candidate for this office--you're not. I +intend to do as my conscience dictates. I will not be hampered at every +turn, nor told what to say and what to think. I must get to these things in +my own way." + +"Don't ye fergit that ye're _our_ candidate, that ye are to express the +opinion of the people who will elect ye, and not any dam' theories of yer +own----" + +"I think I get your meaning, Noonan." + +George spoke with a smile which for some reason disconcerted Noonan. He +sensed with considerable irritation the social and class breach between +himself and Remington, and while he did not understand it he resented it. +He called him "slick" to Wes' and Doolittle and loudly bewailed their +choice of him as candidate. + +"Then there's that P.L. bizness, Pat--don't fergit that," urged Wes'. + +"I ain't fergittin' it. There's too much nosin' round Kentwood district by +the women, George. Too much talkin'. Ye'd better call that off right now. +Property owners down there is satisfied, an' they got _their_ rights, ye +know." "I suppose you know what the conditions down there are?" + +"Sure we know, George, and we want to clean it up down there just as much +as you do," said the pacific Doolittle; "but what we're sayin' is, this +ain't the time to do it. Later, mebbe, when the conditions is jest +right----" + +"Somebody has got the women stirred up fer fair. It's up to you to call 'em +off, George," said Mr. Norton. + +"How can I call them off?"--tartly. + +"Ye can put the brakes on Mrs. Remington and that there Sheridan girl, +can't ye?" + +"Miss Sheridan is no longer in my employ. As for Mrs. Remington, if she is +not one in spirit with me, I cannot force her to be. Every human being has +a right to----" + +"Some change sence ye last expressed yerself, George. Seems like I recall +ye sayin', 'I'll settle that!'" remarked Doolittle coldly. + +"We will leave my wife's name out of the discussion, please," said George +with tardy but noble loyalty. "Well, them two I mentioned can stir up some +trouble; but they ain't the brains of their gang, by a long shot. It's this +E. Eliot we gotta deal with. She's as smart, if not smarter, than any man +in this town. She's smarter than you, George--or me, either," he added +consolingly. + +"I've seen her about, but I've never talked to her. What sort of woman is +she?" + +"Quiet, sensible kind. Ye keep thinking, 'How reasonable that woman is,' +till ye wake up and find she's got ye hooked on one of the horns of yer own +damfoolishness! Slick as they make 'em and straight as a string--that's E. +Eliot." + +"What do you want me to do about it?"--impatiently. + +"Are ye aimin' to answer them voiceless questions?" Pat inquired. + +Silence. + +"Plannin' to tear down Kentwood and enforce them factory laws?" demanded +Wes' Norton. + +Still no answer. + +"I'm jest callin' yer attention to the fact that this election is gittin' +nearer every day." "What am I to do with her? I can't afford to show we're +afraid of her." + +"Huh." + +"I can't bribe her to stop." + +"I'd like to see the fella that would try to bribe E. Eliot," Doolittle +chuckled. "Wouldn't be enough of him left to put in a teacup." + +"Then we've got to ignore her." + +"_We_ can ignore her, all right, George; but the women an' some of the +voters ain't ignoring her. It's my idea she's got a last card up her sleeve +to play the day before we go to the polls that'll fix us." + +"Have you any plan in your mind?" + +Doolittle scratched his head, wrestling with thought. + +"We was thinking that if she could be called away suddenly, and detained +till after election--" he began meaningly. + +"You mean----" + +"Something like that." + +"I won't have it, not if I lose the election. I won't stoop to kidnapping +a woman like a highwayman. What do you take me for, Doolittle?" "Georgie, +politics ain't no kid-glove bizness. It ain't what _you_ want; you're jest +a small part of this affair. You're _our_ candidate, and we _got_ to win +this here election. Do you get me?" + +He shot out his underjaw, and there was no sign of his usual good humor. + +"Well, but----" + +"You don't have to know anything about this. We'll handle it. You'll be +pertected to the limit; don't you worry," sneered Noonan. + +"But you can't get away with this old-fashioned stuff nowadays, Doolittle," +protested Remington. + +"Can't we? You jest leave it to your Uncle Benjamin. You don't know nothing +about this. See?" + +"I know it's a dirty, low, underhanded----" + +"George," remarked Mr. Doolittle, slowly hoisting his big body on to its +short legs, "in politics we don't call a spade a spade. We call it 'a +agricultural implument.'" + +With this sage remark Mr. Doolittle took his departure, followed by the +other prominent citizens. + +George sat where they left him, head in hands, for several moments. Then he +sprang up and rushed to the door to call them back. + +He would not stand it--he would not win at that price. He had conceded +everything they had demanded of him up to this point, but here he drew the +line. Ever since that one independent fling of his about suffrage they had +treated him like a naughty child. What did they think he was--a rubber +doll? He would telephone Doolittle that he would rather give up his +candidacy. Here he paused. + +Suppose he did withdraw, nobody would understand. The town would think the +women had frightened him off. He couldn't come out now and denounce the +machine methods of his party. Every eye in Whitewater was focused on him; +his friends were working for him; the district attorneyship was the next +step in his career; Geneviève expected him to win--no, he must go through +with it! But after he got into office, then he would show them! He would +take orders from no one. He sat down again and moodily surveyed the +future. + +In the days which followed, another mental struggle was taking place in the +Remington family. Poor Genevieve was like a woman struck by lightning. She +felt that her whole structure of life had crashed about her ears. In one +blinding flash she had seen and condemned George because he considered +political expediency. She realized that she must think for herself now and +not rely on him for the family celebration. She had conceived her whole +duty in life to consist in being George's wife; but now, by a series of +accidents, she had become aware of the great social responsibilities, the +larger human issues, which men and women must meet together. + +Betty and E. Eliot had pointed out to her that she knew nothing of the +conditions in her own town. They assured her that it was as much her duty +to know about such things as to know the condition of her own back yard. + +Then came the awful revelations of Kentwood--human beings huddled like +rats; children swarming, dirty and hungry! She could not bear to remember +the scenes she had witnessed in Kentwood. + +She recalled the shock of Alys Brewster-Smith's indifference to all that +misery! The widow's one instinct had seemed to be to fight E. Eliot and the +health officer for their interference. Stranger still, the tenants did not +want to be moved out, driven on. The whole situation was confused, but in +it at least one thing stood out clearly: Geneviève realized, during the +sleepless night after her visit to Kentwood, that she hated Cousin Alys! + +The following Sunday, when she put on her coat, she found a souvenir of +that visit in her pocket, a soiled reminder of poverty and toil. She +remembered picking it up and noting that it was the factory pass of +one Marya Slavonsky. She had intended to leave it with some one in the +district, but evidently in the excitement of her enforced exit she had +thrust it into her pocket. + +This Marya worked in the factories. She was one of that grimy army +Geneviève had seen coming out of the factory gate, and she went home to +that pen which Cousin Alys provided. Marya was a girl of Genevieve's own +age, perhaps, while she, Geneviève, had this comfortable home, and George! +She had been blind, selfish, but she would make up for it, she _would_! She +would make a study of the needs of such people; she would go among them +like St. Agatha, scattering alms and wisdom. George might have his work; +she had found hers! She would begin with the factory girls. She would waken +them to what had so lately dawned on her. How could she manage it? The +rules of admission in the munition factories were very strict. + +Then again her eye fell upon the soiled card and a great idea was born in +her brain. Dressed as a factory girl, she would use Marya's card to get her +into the circle of these new-found sisters. She would see how and where +they worked. She would report it all to the Forum and to George. She could +be of use to George at last. + +She remembered Betty's statement that at midnight in the factories the +women and girls had an hour off. That was the time she chose, with true +dramatic instinct. + +She rummaged in the attic for an hour, getting her costume ready. She +decided on an old black suit and a shawl which had belonged to her mother. +She carried these garments to her bedroom and hid them there. Then, with +Machiavellian finesse, she laid her plans. + +She would slip out of bed at half-past eleven o'clock, taking care not to +waken George, and she would dress and leave the house by the side door. +By walking fast she could reach by midnight the factory to which she had +admission. + +It annoyed her considerably to have George announce at luncheon that he had +a political dinner on for the evening and probably would not be home before +midnight. He grumbled a little over the dinner. "The campaign," he said, +"really ended yesterday. But Doolittle thought it was wise to have a last +round-up of the business men, and give them a final speech." + +Geneviève acquiesced with a sympathetic murmur, but she was disappointed. +Merely to walk calmly out of the house at eleven o'clock lessened the +excitement. However, she decided upon leaving George a note explaining that +she had gone to spend the night with Betty Sheridan. + +She looked forward to the long afternoon with impatience. Cousin Emelene +was taking her nap. Mrs. Brewster-Smith left immediately after lunch to +make a call on one of her few women friends. Genevieve tried to get Betty +on the telephone, but she was not at home. + +It was with a thrill of pleasure that she saw E. Eliot coming up the walk +to the door. She hurried downstairs just as the maid explained that Mrs. +Brewster-Smith was not at home. + +"Oh, won't you come in and see me for a moment, Miss Eliot?" Genevieve +begged. "I do so want to talk to you." + +E. Eliot hesitated. "The truth is, I am fearfully busy today, even though +it's Sunday. I wanted to get five minutes with Mrs. Brewster-Smith about +those cottages--" she began. + +Genevieve laid a detaining hand on her arm and led her into the +living-room. + +"She's hopeless! I can hardly bear to have her in my house after the way +she acted about those fearful places." + +"Well, all that district is the limit, of course. She isn't the only +landlord." + +"But she didn't _see_ those people." "She's human, I guess--didn't want to +see disturbing things." + +"I would have torn down those cottages with my own hands!" burst forth +Geneviève. + +E. Eliot stared. "No one likes her income cut down, you know," she +palliated. + +"Income! What is that to human decencies?" cried the newly awakened +apostle. + +"Your husband doesn't entirely agree with you in some of these matters, I +suppose." + +"Oh, yes he does, in his heart! But there's something about politics that +won't let you come right out and say what you think." + +"Not after you've come right out once and said the wrong thing," laughed +E. Eliot. "I'm afraid you will have to use your indirect influence on him, +Mrs. Remington." + +Geneviève threw her cards on the table. + +"Miss Eliot, I am just beginning to see how much there is for women to do +in the world. I want to do something big--the sort of thing you and Betty +Sheridan are doing--to rouse women. What can I do?" E. Eliot scrutinized +the ardent young face with amiable amusement. + +"You can't very well help us just now without hurting your husband's +chances and embarrassing him in the bargain. You see, we're trying to +embarrass him. We want him to kick over the traces and tell what he's going +to do as district attorney of this town." + +"But can't I do something that won't interfere with George? Couldn't I +investigate the factories, or organize the working girls?" + +"My child, have you ever organized anything?" exclaimed E. Eliot. + +"No." + +"Well, don't begin on the noble working girl. She doesn't organize easily. +Wait until the election is over. Then you come in on our schemes and we'll +teach you how to do things. But don't butt in now, I beg of you. Misguided, +well-meaning enthusiasts like you can do more harm to our cause than all +the anti-suffragists in this world!" + +With her genial, disarming smile, E. Eliot rose and departed. She chuckled +all the way back to her rooms over the idea of Remington's bride wanting to +take the field with the enemies of her wedded lord. + +"Women, women! God bless us, but we're funny!" mused E. Eliot. + +Genevieve liked her caller immensely, and she thought over her advice, but +she determined to let it make no difference in her plans. + +She saw her work cut out for her. She would not flinch! + +She would do her bit in the great cause of women--no, of humanity. The +flame of her purpose burned steadily and high. + +At a quarter-past eleven that night a slight, black-clad figure, with a +shawl over its head, softly closed the side door of the Remington house +and hurried down the street. Never before had Genevieve been alone on the +streets after dark. She had not foreseen how frightened she would be at the +long, dark stretches, nor how much more frightened when any one passed her. +Two men spoke to her. She sped on, turning now this way, now that, without +regard to direction--her eyes over her shoulder, in terror lest she be +followed. + +So it was that she plunged around a corner and into the very arms of E. +Eliot, who was sauntering home from a political meeting, where she had +been a much-advertised speaker. She was in the habit of prowling about by +herself. Tonight she was, as usual, unattended--unless one observed two +burly workingmen who walked slowly in her wake. + +"Oh, I beg your pardon," came a gently modulated voice from behind the +shawl. E. Eliot stared. + +"No harm done here. Did I hurt you?" she replied. + +She thought she heard an involuntary "Oh!" from beneath the shawl. + +"No, thanks. Could you tell me how to get to the Whitewater Arms and +Munitions Factory? I'm all turned around." + +"Certainly. Two blocks that way to the State Road, and half a mile north on +that. Shall I walk to the road with you?" + +"Oh, no, thank you," the girl answered and hurried on. E. Eliot stood and +watched her. Where had she heard that voice? She knew a good many girls who +worked at the factories, but none of them spoke like that. All at once a +memory came to her: "Couldn't I investigate something, or organize the +working girls?" Mrs. George Remington! + +"The little fool," ejaculated the other woman, and turned promptly to +follow the flying figure. + +The two burly gentlemen in the rear also turned and followed, but E. Eliot +was too busy planning how to manage Mrs. Remington to notice them. She had +to walk rapidly to keep her quarry in sight. As she came within some thirty +yards of the gate she saw Genevieve challenge the gatekeeper, present her +card and slip inside, the gate clanging to behind her. + +E. Eliot broke into a jog trot, rounded the corner of the wall, pulled +herself up quickly, using the stones of the wall as footholds. She hung +from the top and let herself drop softly inside, standing perfectly still +in the shadow. At the same moment the two burly gentlemen ran round the +corner and saw nothing. "I told ye to run--" began one of them fiercely. + +"Aw, shut up. If she went over here, she'll come out here. We'll wait." + +The midnight gong and the noise of the women shuffling out into the +courtyard drowned that conversation for E. Eliot. She stood and watched the +gatekeeper saunter indoors, not waiting for the man who relieved him on +duty. She watched Genevieve go forward and meet the factory hands. + +The newcomer shyly spoke to the first group. The eavesdropper could not +hear what she said. But the crowd gathered about the speaker, shuffling, +chaffing, finally listening. Somebody captured the gatekeeper's stool and +Geneviève stood on it. + +"What I want to tell you is how beautiful it is for women to stand together +and work together to make the world better," she began. + +"Say, what is your job?" demanded a girl, suspicious of the soft voice and +modulated speech. + +"Well, I--I only keep house now. But I intend to begin to do a great deal +for the community, for all of you----" "She keeps house--poor little +overworked thing!" + +"But the point is, not what you do, but the spirit you do it in----" + +"What is this, a revival meetin'?" + +"So I want to tell you what the women of this town mean to do." + +"Hear! Hear! Listen at the suffragette!" + +"First, we mean to clean up the Kentwood district. You all know how awful +those cottages are." + +"Sure; we live in 'em!" + +"We intend to force the landlords to tear them down and improve all that +district." + +"Much obliged, lady, and where do we go?" demanded one of her listeners. + +"You must have better living conditions." + +"But where? Rents in this town has boomed since the war began. Ain't that +got to you yet? There ain't no place left fer the poor." + +"Then we must find places and make them healthy and beautiful." + +"For the love of Mike! She's talkin' about heaven, ain't she?" "She's +talkin' through her hat!" cried another. + +"Then, we mean to make the factories obey the laws. They have no right to +make you girls work here at night." + +"Who's makin' us?" + +"We are going to force the factories to obey the letter of the law on our +statute books." + +A thin, flushed girl stepped out of the crowd and faced her. + +"Say, who is 'we'?" + +"Why, all of us, the women of Whitewater." + +"How are we goin' to repay the women of Whitewater fer tearin' down our +homes an' takin' away our jobs? Ain't there somethin' we can do to show our +gratitood?" the new speaker asked earnestly. + +"Go to it--let her have it, Mamie Flynn!" cried the crowd. + +"Oh, but you mustn't look at it that way! We must all make some +sacrifices----" + +"Cut that slush! What do you know about sacrifices? I'm on to you. You're +one of them uptown reformers. What do you know about sacrifices? Ye got a +sure place to sleep, ain't ye? Ye've got a full belly an' a husband to give +ye spendin' money, ain't ye? Don't ye come down here gittin' our jobs away +an' then fergettin' all about us!" + +There was a buzz of agreement and an undertone of anger which to an +experienced speaker would have been ominous. But Geneviève blundered on: +"We only want to help you----" + +"We don't want yer help ner yer advice. You keep yer hands off our +business! Do yer preachin' uptown--that's where they need it. Ask the +landlords of Kentwood and the stockholders in the munition factories to +make some sacrifices, an' see where that gits ye! But don't ye come down +here, a-spyin' on us, ye dirty----" + +The last words were happily lost as the crowd of girls closed in on +Geneviève with cries of "Spy!" "Scab!" "Throw her out!" + +They had nearly torn her clothes off before E. Eliot was among them. She +sprang up on the chair and shouted: + +"Girls--here, hold on a minute." + +There was a hush. Some one called out: "It's Miss E. Eliot." "Listen a +minute. Don't waste your time getting mad at this girl. She's a friend of +mine. And you may not believe me, but she means all right." + +"What's she pussyfootin' in here for?" + +"Don't you know the story of the man from Pittsburgh who died and went on?" +cried E. Eliot. "Some kindly spirit showed him round the place, and the +newcomer said: 'Well, I don't think heaven's got anything on Pittsburgh.' +'This isn't heaven!' said the spirit." + +There was a second's pause, and then the laugh came. + +"Now, this girl has just waked up to the fact that Whitewater isn't heaven, +and she thought you'd like to hear the news! I'll take the poor lamb home, +put cracked ice on her head and let her sleep it off." + +They laughed again. + +"Go to it," said the erstwhile spokeswoman for the working girls. + +E. Eliot called them a cheery good-night. The factory girls drifted away, +in little groups, leaving Geneviève, bedraggled and hysterical, clinging to +her rescuer. + +"They would have killed me if you hadn't come!" she gasped. + +E. Eliot thought quickly. + +"Stand here in the shadow of the fence till I come back," she said. "It +will be all right. I've got to run into the office and send a telephone +message. I have a pal there who will let me do it." + +"You--you won't be long?" + +It was clear that the nerve of Mrs. Remington was quite gone. + +"I won't be gone five minutes." + +E. Eliot was as good as her word. + +When she returned she seized the stool on which her companion had made her +maiden speech--ran to the wall, placed it at the spot where she had made +her entrance and urged Geneviève to climb up and drop over; as she +obeyed, E. Eliot mounted beside her. They dropped off, almost at the same +moment--into arms upheld to catch them. + +Geneviève screamed, and was promptly choked. "What'll we do with this extra +one?" asked a hoarse voice. + +"Bring her. There's no time to waste now. If ye yell again, ye'll both be +strangled," the second speaker added as he led the way toward the road, +where the dimmed lights of a motor car shone. + +He was carrying E. Eliot as if she were a doll. Behind him his assistant +stumbled along, bearing, less easily but no less firmly, the, wife of the +candidate for district attorney! + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +BY WILLIAM ALLEN WHITE + + +As the two gagged women--one comfortably gagged with more or less pleasant +bandages made and provided, the other gagged by the large, smelly hand of +an entire stranger to Mrs. George Remington--whom she was trying impolitely +to bite, by way of introduction--were speeding through the night, Mr. +George Remington, ending a long and late speech before the Whitewater +Business Men's Club, was saying these things: + +"I especially deplore this modern tendency to talk as though there were two +kinds of people in this country--those interested in good government, and +those interested in bad government. We are all good Americans. We are all +interested in good government. Some of us believe good government may +be achieved through a protective tariff and a proper consideration for +prosperity [cheers], and others, in their blindness, bow down to wood and +stone!" + +He smiled amiably at the laughter, and continued: + +"But while some of us see things differently as to means, our aims are +essentially the same. You don't divide people according to trades and +callings. I deplore this attempt to set the patriotic merchant against the +patriotic saloonkeeper; the patriotic follower of the race track against +the patriotic manufacturer. + +"Here is my good friend, Benjie Doolittle. When he played the ponies in the +old days, before he went into the undertaking and furniture business, was +he less patriotic than now? Was he less patriotic then than my Uncle Martin +Jaffry is now, with all his manufacturer's interest in a stable government? +And is my Uncle Martin Jaffry more patriotic than Pat Noonan? Or is Pat +less patriotic than our substantial merchant, Wesley Norton? + +"Down with this talk that would make lines of moral and patriotic cleavage +along lines of vocation or calling. I want no votes of those who pretend +that the good Americans should vote in one box and the bad Americans in +another box. I want the votes of those of all castes and cults who believe +in prosperity [loud cheers], and I want the votes of those who believe +in the glorious traditions of our party, its magnificent principles, its +martyred heroes, its deathless name in our history!" + +It was, of course, an after-dinner speech. Being the last speech of the +campaign it was also a highly important one. But George Remington felt, as +he sat listening to the din of the applause, that he had answered rather +neatly those who said he was wabbling on the local economic issue and was +swaying in the wind of socialist agitation which the women had started in +Whitewater. + +As he left the hotel where the dinner had been given, he met his partner on +the sidewalk. + +"Get in, Penny," he urged, jumping into his car. "Come out to the house for +the night, and we'll have Betty over to breakfast. Then she and Geneviève +and you and I will see if we can't restore the _ante-bellum modus vivendi_! +Come on! Emelene and Alys always breakfast in bed, anyway, and it will be +no trouble to get Betty over." The two men rode home in complacent silence. +It was long past midnight. They sat on the veranda to finish their cigars +before going into the house. + +"Penny," asked George suddenly, "what has Pat Noonan got in this game--I +mean against the agitation by the women and this investigation of +conditions in Kentwood? Why should he agonize over it?" + +"Is he fussing about it?" + +"Is he? Do you think I'd tie his name up in a public speech with Martin +Jaffry if Pat wasn't off the reservation? You could see him swell up like a +pizened pup when I did it! I hope Uncle Martin will not be offended." + +"He's a good sport, George. But say--what did Pat do to give you this +hunch?" + +Remington smoked in meditative silence, then answered: + +"Well, Penny, I had to raise the devil of a row the other day to keep Pat +from ribbing up Benjie Doolittle and the organization to a frame-up to +kidnap this Eliot person." + +"Kidnap E. Eliot!" gasped the amazed Evans. "Kidnap that very pest. And I +tell you, man, if I hadn't roared like a stuck ox they would have done +it! Fancy introducing 'Prisoner of Zenda' stuff into the campaign in +Whitewater! Though I will say this, Penny, as between old army friends and +college chums," continued Mr. Remington earnestly, "if a warrior bold with +spurs of gold, who was slightly near-sighted and not particular about his +love being so damned young and fair, would swoop down and carry this E. +Eliot off to his princely donjon, and would let down the portcullis for two +days, until the election is over, it would help some! Though otherwise I +don't wish her any bad luck!" + +The old army friend and college chum laughed. + +"Well, that's your end of the story! I'm mighty glad you stopped it. Here's +my end. You remember two-fingered Moll, who was our first client? The one +who insisted on being referred to as a lady? The one who got converted and +quit the game and who thought she was being pursued by the racetrack gang +because she was trying to live decent?" + +George smiled in remembrance. "Well, she called me up to know if there +was any penalty for renting a house to Mike the Goat and his wife and old +Salubrious the Armenian, who had a lady friend they were keeping from the +cops against her will. She said they weren't going to hurt the lady, and I +could see her every day to prove it. I advised her to keep out of it, of +course; but she was strong for it, because of what she called the big +money. I explained carefully that if anything should happen, her past +reputation would go against her. But she kept saying it was straight, until +I absolutely forbade her to do it, and she promised not to." + +"Mike and his woman, and Old Salubrious!" echoed Remington. "And E. Eliot +locked up with them for two days!" + +He shivered, partly at the memory of his own mealy-mouthed protest. + +"Well," he said, and there was an air of finality in his tone, "I'm glad I +stopped the whole infamous business." + +Mentally he decided to get Noonan on the telephone the first thing in the +morning and make certain that the plan was abandoned. He continued his +chat with Evans. + +"But, Penny, why this agonizing of Noonan? What has he to lose by the +better conditions in Kentwood? Why should he----" + +Outside of a neat white dwelling in the suburbs of Whitewater, four figures +were struggling in the night toward a vine-covered door--that door which +appeared so attractively in the _Welfare Bulletin_ of the Toledo Blade +Steel Company's publicity program as the "prize garden home of J. Agricola, +roller." + +A woman stood in the doorway, holding the door open. Two women, who had +been carried by two men, from an automobile at the gate, were forced +through. There the men left them with their hostess. + +"I was only looking for one of yez," she said, hospitably, "but you're bote +welcome. Now, ladies, I'm goin' to make you comfortable. It won't do no +good to scream, so I'm goin' to take your gags off. And I hope you, lady, +haven't been inconvenienced by a handkerchief. We could just as well +have arranged for your comfort, too." + +"Madam," gasped E. Eliot, who was the first to be released to speech, "it +is unimportant who I am. But do you know that this woman with me is Mrs. +George Remington, the wife of the candidate for district attorney--Mr. +George Remington of Whitewater? There has been a mistake." + +The hostess looked at Genevieve, who nodded a tearful confirmation. But the +woman only smiled. + +"My man don't make mistakes," she said laconically. "And, what's more to +the point, miss, he's a friend of George Remington, and why should he be +giving his lady a vacation? You are E. Eliot, and your friends think you're +workin' too hard, so they're goin' to give you a nice rest. Nothin' will +happen to you if you are a lady, as I think you are. And when I find out +who this other lady is, we'll make her as welcome as you!" + +She went out of the room, locking the door behind her as the two women +struggled vainly with their bonds. In an instant she returned. + +"My man says to tell the one who thinks she's Mrs. George Remington that +she's spendin' the week-end with Mrs. Napoleon Boneypart." My man says +he's a good friend of George Remington and is supportin' him for district +attorney, and that's how he can make it so pleasant here. + +"And I'll tell you something else," she continued proudly. "When George got +married, it was my man that went up and down Smoky Row and seen all the +girls and got 'em to give a dollar apiece for them lovely roses labeled +'The Young Men's Republican Club.' Mr. Doolittle he seen to that. My man +really collected fifty dollars more'n he turned in, and I got a diamond-set +wrist watch with it! So, you see, we're real friendly with them Remingtons, +and we're glad to see you, Mrs. Remington!" + +"Oh, how horrible!" cried Geneviève. "There were eight dozen of those roses +from the Young Men's Republican Club, and to think---Oh, to think----" + +"Well, now, George," cried Mr. Penfield Evans, "just stop and think. Use +your bean, my boy! What is the one thing on earth that puts the fear of God +into Pat Noonan? It's prohibition. Look at the prohibition map out West and +at the suffrage map out West. They fit each other like the paper on the +wall. Whatever women may lack in intelligence about some things, there is +one thing woman knows--high and low, rich and poor! She knows that the +saloon is her enemy, and she hits it; and Pat Noonan, seeing this rise of +women investigating industry, makes common cause with Martin Jaffry and +the whole employing class of Whitewater against the nosey interference of +women. + +"And Pat Noonan is depending on you," continued Evans. "He expects you to +rise. He expects you to go to Congress--possibly to the Senate, and he +figures that he wants to be dead sure you'll not get to truckling to +decency on the liquor question. So he ties you up--or tries you out for a +tie-up or a kidnapping; and Benjie Doolittle, who likes a sporting event, +takes a chance that you'll stand hitched in a plan to rid the community of +a political pest without seriously hurting the pest--a friendless old maid +who won't be missed for a day or two, and whose disappearance can be hushed +up one way or another after she appears too late for the election. + +"Just figure things out, George. Do you think Noonan got Mike the Goat to +assess the girls on the row a dollar apiece for your flowers from the Young +Men's Republican Club, for his health! You had the grace to thank Pat, but +if you didn't know where they came from," explained Mr. Evans cynically, +"it was because you have forgotten where all Pat's floral offerings from +the Y.M.R.C. come from at weddings and funerals! And Pat feels that you're +his kind of people. + +"Politics, George, is not the chocolate éclair that you might think it, if +you didn't know it! Use your bean, my boy! Use your bean! And you'll see +why Pat Noonan lines up with the rugged captains of industry who are the +bulwarks of our American liberty. Pat uses his head for something more than +a hatrack." + +The two puffed for a time in silence. Finally the host said: "Well, let's +turn in." Three minutes later George called across the upper hall to +Penfield. + +"The joke's on us, Penny. Here's a note saying that Geneviève is over with +Betty for the night. We'll call her up after breakfast and have them both +over to a surprise party." + +Penny strolled across to his friend's door. He was disappointed, and he +showed it. He found George sitting on the side of his bed. + +"Penny," mused the Young Man in Politics, in his finest mood, "you know I +sometimes think that, perhaps, way down deep, there is something wrong with +our politics. I don't like to be hooked up with Noonan and his gang. And I +don't like the way Noonan and his gang are hooked up with Wesley Norton and +the silk stockings and Uncle Martin and the big fellows. Why can't we get +rid of the Noonan influence? They aren't after the things we're after! +They only furnish the unthinking votes that make majorities that elect the +fellows the big crooks handle. Lord, man, it's a dirty mess! And why women +want to get into the dirty mess is more than I can see." "What a sweet +valedictory address you are making for a young ladies' school!" scoffed +Penny. "The hills are green far off! Aren't you the Sweet Young Thing. But +I'll tell you why the women want to get in, George. They think they want to +clean up the mess." + +"But would they clean it? Wouldn't they vote about as we vote?" + +"Well," answered Mr. Evans with the cynicism of the judicial mind, "let's +see. You know now, if you didn't know at the time, that Noonan got Mike +the Goat to assess the disorderly houses for the money to buy your wedding +roses from the Y.M.R.C. All right. Noonan's bartender is on the ticket with +you as assemblyman. Are you going to vote for him or not?" + +"But, Penny, I've just about got to vote for him." + +"All right, then. I'll tell Geneviève the truth about Noonan and the +flowers, and I'll ask her if she would feel that she had to vote for +Noonan's bartender!" retorted Mr. Evans. "Giving women the ballot will help +at least that much. If the Noonans stay in politics, they'll get no help +from the women when they vote!" + +"But aren't we protecting the women?" + + * * * * * + +"Anyway, Mrs. Remington," said E. Eliot comfortably, "I'm glad it happened +just this way. Without you, they would hold me until after the election on +Tuesday. With you, about tomorrow at ten o'clock we shall be released. E. +Eliot alone they have made every provision for holding. They have started +a scandal, I don't doubt, necessary to explain my absence, and pulled the +political wires to keep me from making a fuss about it afterward. They know +their man in the district attorney's office, and----" + +"Do you mean George Remington?" This from his wife, with flashing eyes. + +"I mean," explained E. Eliot unabashed, "that for some reason they feel +safe with George Remington in the district attorney's office, or they would +not kidnap me to prevent his defeat! That is the cold-blooded situation." + +"This party," E. Eliot smiled, "is given at the country home of Mike the +Goat, as nearly as I can figure it out. Mike is a right-hand man of Noonan. +Noonan is a right-hand man of Benjie Doolittle and Wesley Norton, and they +are all a part of the system that holds Martin Jaffry's industries under +the amiable beneficence of our sacred protective tariff! Hail, hail, the +gang's all here--what do we care now, my dear? And because you are here and +are part of the heaven-born combination for the public good, I am content +to go through the rigors of one night without a nightie for the sake of the +cause!" + +"But they don't know who I am!" protested Mrs. Remington. "And----" + +"Exactly, and for that reason they don't know who you are not. Tomorrow the +whole town will be looking for you, and Noonan will hear who you are and +where you are. Then! Say, girl--_say, girl,_ it _will_ be grist for our +mill! Fancy the headlines all over the United States: + +'GANG KIDNAPS CANDIDATE'S WIFE MYSTERY SHROUDS PLOT CANDIDATE REMINGTON IS +SILENT.'" + +"But he won't be silent," protested the indignant Geneviève. + +"I tell you, he'll denounce it from the platform. He'll never let this +outrage----" + +"Well, my dear," said the imperturbable E. Eliot, "when he denounces this +plot he'll have to denounce Doolittle and Noonan, and probably Norton, and +maybe his Uncle Martin Jaffry. Somebody is paying big money for this job! I +said the headlines will declare: + +'CANDIDATE REMINGTON is SILENT But Still Maintains That Women Are Protected +from Rigors of Cruel World by Man's Chivalry.'" + +"Oh, Miss Eliot, don't! How can you? Oh, I know George will not let this +outrage----" + +"Of course not," hooted E. Eliot. "The sturdy oak will support the clinging +vine! But while he is doing it he will be defeated. And if he doesn't +protest he will be defeated, for I shall talk!" + +"George Remington will face defeat like a gentleman, Miss Eliot; have no +fear of that. He will speak out, no matter what happens." "And when he +speaks, when he tells the truth about this whole alliance between the +greedy, ruthless rich and the brutal, vicious dregs of this community--our +cause is won!" + + * * * * * + +The next morning George Remington reached from his bed for his telephone +and called up the Sheridan residence. Two minutes later Penfield Evans +heard a shout. At his door stood the unclad and pallid candidate for +district attorney. + +"Penny," he gasped, "Genevieve's not there! She has not been with Betty all +night. And Betty has gone out to find E. Eliot, who is missing from her +boarding-house!" + +"Are you sure----" + +"God--Penny--I thought I had stopped it!" + +George was back in his room, flying into his clothes. The two men were +talking loudly. From down the hall a sleepy voice--unmistakably Mrs. +Brewster-Smith's--was drawling: + +"George--George--are you awake? I didn't hear you come in. Dear Geneviève +went over to stay all night with Cousin Betty, and the oddest thing +happened. About midnight the telephone bell rang, and that odious Eliot +person called you up!" + +George was in the hall in an instant and before Mrs. Brewster-Smith's door. + +"Well, well, for God's sake, what did she say!" he cried. + +"Oh, yes, I was coming to that. She said to send your chauffeur with +the car down to the--oh, I forget, some nasty factory or something, for +Genevieve. She said Genevieve was down there talking to the factory girls. +Fancy that, George! So I just put up the receiver. I knew Genevieve was +with Betty Sheridan and not with that odious person at all--it was some +ruse to get your car and compromise you. Fancy dear Genevieve talking to +the factory girls at midnight!" + +Penfield Evans and George Remington, standing in the hall, listened to +these words with terror in their hearts. + +"Get Noonan first," said George. "I'll talk to him." + +In five seconds Evans had Noonan's residence. Remington listened to Penny's +voice. "Gone," he was saying. "Gone where?" And then: "Why, he was at the +dinner last---What's Doolittle's number?" ("Noonan went to New York on the +midnight train," he threw at George.) A moment later Remington heard his +partner cry, "Doolittle's gone to New York? On the midnight train?" + +"Try Norton," snapped George. Soon he heard Penny exclaim. "Albany?" said +Penny. "Mr. Norton is in Albany? Thank you!" + +"Their alibis!" said Evans calmly, as he hung up the receiver and stared at +his partner. + +"Well, it--it----Why, Penny, they've stolen Geneviève! That damned Mike +and the Armenian! They've got Geneviève with that Eliot woman! God----Why, +Penny, for God's sake, what----" + +"Slowly, George--slowly. Let's move carefully." + +The voice of Penfield Evans was cool and steady, + +"First of all, we need not worry about any harm coming to Geneviève. She +is with Miss Eliot, and that woman has more sense than a man. She may be +depended upon. Now, then," Evans waved his partner to silence and went +on: "the next thing to consider is how much publicity we shall give this +episode." He paused. + +"It's not a matter of publicity; it's a matter of getting Geneviève +immediately." + +"An hour or so of publicity of the screaming, hysterical kind will not help +us to find Geneviève. But when we do find her, our publicity will have +defeated you!" + +The two men stared at each other. Remington said: "You mean I must shield +the organization!" + +"If you are to be elected--yes!" + +"Do you think Geneviève and Miss Eliot would consent to shield the +organization when we find them? Why, Penny, you're mad! We must call up the +chief of police! We must scour the country! I propose to go right to the +newspapers! The more people who know of this dastardly thing the sooner we +shall recover the victims!" + +"And the sooner Noonan, when he comes home tonight, will denounce you as +an accessory before the fact, with Norton and Doolittle as corroborating +witnesses for him! Oh, you're learning politics fast, George!" + +The thought of what Genevieve would say when she knew, through Noonan and +Doolittle, that he had heard of the plot to kidnap Miss Eliot, and within +an hour had talked to his wife casually at luncheon without saying anything +about it, made George's heart stop. He realized that he was learning +something more than politics. He walked the floor of the room. + +"Well," he said at last, "let's call in Uncle Martin Jaffry. He----" + +"Yes; he is probably paying for the job. He might know something! I'll get +him." + +"Paying for the job! Do you think he knew of this plot?" cried George as +Evans stood at the telephone. + +"Oh, no. He just knew, in a leer from Doolittle, that they had +extraordinary need for Eve thousand dollars or so in your behalf--that they +had consulted you. And then Doolittle winked and Noonan cocked his head +rakishly, and Uncle Martin put--Hello, Mr. Jaffry. This is Penny. Dress +and come down to the office quickly. We are in serious trouble." + +Twenty minutes later Uncle Martin was sitting with the two young men in the +office of Remington and Evans. When they explained the situation to him his +dry little face screwed up. + +"Well, at least Geneviève will be all right," he muttered. "E. Eliot will +take care of her. But, boys--boys," he squeezed his hands and rocked in +misery, "the devil of it is that I gave Doolittle the money in a check and +then went and got another check from the Owners' Protective Association and +took the peak load off myself, and Doolittle was with me when I got the P. +A. check. We've simply got to protect him. And, of course, what he knows, +Noonan knows. We can't go tearing up Jack here, calling police and raising +the town!" + +George Remington rose. + +"Then I've got to let my wife lie in some dive with that unspeakable Turk +and that Mike the Goat while you men dicker with the scoundrels who +committed this crime!" he said. "My God, every minute is precious! We must +act. Let me call the chief of police and the sheriff----" + +"All dear friends of Noonan's," Penny quietly reminded him. "They probably +have the same tip about what is on as you and Uncle Martin have! Calm down, +George! First, let me go out and learn when Noonan and Doolittle are coming +home! When we know that, we can----" + +"Penny, I can't wait. I must act now. I must denounce the whole damnable +plot to the people of this country. I must not rest one second longer in +silence as an accessory. I shall denounce----" + +"Yes, George, you shall denounce," exclaimed his partner. "But just +whom--yourself, that you did not warn Miss Eliot all day yesterday!" + +"Yes," cried Remington, "first of all, myself as a coward!" + +"All right. Next, then, your Uncle Martin Jaffry, who was earnestly trying +to help you in the only way he knew how to help! Why, George, that would +be----" "That would be the least I could do to let the people see----" + +"To let the people see that Mrs. Brewster-Smith and all your social friends +in this town are associated with Mike the Goat and his gang----" + +Before Evans could finish, his partner stopped him. + +"Yes, yes--the whole damned system of greed! The rich greed and the poor +greed--our criminal classes plotting to keep justice from the decent +law-abiding people of the place, who are led like sheep to the slaughter. +What did the owners pay that money for? Not for the dirty job that was +turned--not primarily. But to elect me, because they thought I would not +enforce the factory laws and the housing laws and would protect them in +their larceny! That money Uncle Martin collected was my price--my price!" + +He was standing before his friends, rigid and white in rage. Neither man +answered him. + +"And because the moral sense of the community was in the hearts and heads +of the women of the community," he went on, "those who are upholding the +immoral compact between business and politics had to attack the womanhood +of the town--and Genevieve's peril is my share in the shame. By God, I'm +through!" + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +BY MARY AUSTIN + + +Close on Young Remington's groan of utter disillusionment came a sound from +the street, formless and clumsy, but brought to a sharp climax with the +crash of breaking glass. + +Even through the closed window which Penfield Evans hastily threw up, there +was an obvious quality to the disturbance which revealed its character even +before they had grasped its import. + +The street was still full of morning shadows, with here and there a dancing +glimmer on the cobbles of the still level sun, caught on swinging dinner +pails as the loosely assorted crowd drifted toward shop and factory. + +In many of the windows half-drawn blinds marked where spruce window +trimmers added last touches to masterpieces created overnight, but directly +opposite nothing screened the offense of the Voiceless Speech, which +continued to display its accusing questions to the passer-by. + +Clean through the plate-glass front a stone had crashed, leaving a heap of +shining splinters, on either side of which a score of men and boys loosely +clustered, while further down a ripple of disturbance marked where the +thrower of the stone had just vanished into some recognized port of safety. + +It was a clumsy crowd, half-hearted, moved chiefly by a cruel delight in. +destruction for its own sake, and giving voice at intervals to coarse +comment of which the wittiest penetrated through a stream of profanity, +like one of those same splinters of glass, to the consciousness of at least +two of the three men who hung listening in the window above: + +"To hell with the----suffragists!" + +At the same moment another stone hurled through the break sent the +Voiceless Speech toppling; it lay crumpled in a pathetic feminine sort +of heap, subject to ribald laughter, but Penny Evans' involuntary cry +of protest was cut off by his partner's hand on his shoulder. "They're +Noonan's men, Penny; it's a put-up job." + +George had marked some of the crowd at the meetings Noonan had arranged for +him, and the last touch to the perfunctory character of the disturbance was +added by the leisurely stroll of the policeman turning in at the head of +the street. Before he reached the crowd it had redissolved into the rapidly +filling thoroughfare. + +"It's no use, Penny. Our women have seen the light and beaten us to it; +we've got to go with them or with Noonan and his--Mike the Goat!" + +Recollection of his wife's plight cut him like a knife. "The Brewster-Smith +women have got to choose for themselves!" He felt about for his hat like a +man blind with purpose. + +The street sweeper was taking up the fragments of the shattered windows +half an hour later, when Martin Jaffry found himself going rather aimlessly +along Main Street with a feeling that the bottom had recently dropped +out of things--a sensation which, if the truth must be told, was greatly +augmented by the fact that he hadn't yet breakfasted. He had remained +behind the two younger men to get into communication with Betty Sheridan +and ask her to stay close to the telephone in case Miss Eliot should again +attempt to get into touch with her. He lingered still, dreading to go into +any of the places where he was known lest he should somehow be led to +commit himself embarrassingly on the subject of his nephew's candidacy. + +His middle-aged jauntiness considerably awry, he moved slowly down the +heedless street, subject to the most gloomy reflections. Like most men, +Martin Jaffry had always been dimly aware that the fabric of society is +held together by a system of mutual weaknesses and condonings, but he +had always thought of himself and his own family as moving freely in the +interstices, peculiarly exempt, under Providence, from strain. Now here +they were, in such a position that the first stumbling foot might tighten +them all into inextricable scandal. + +It is true that Penny, at the last moment, had prevailed on George to put +off the relief of his feelings by public repudiation of his political +connections, at least until after a conference with the police. And to +George's fear that the newspapers would get the news from the police before +he had had a chance to repudiate, he had countered with a suggestion, drawn +from an item in the private history of the chief--known to him through his +father's business--which he felt certain would quicken the chief's sense of +the propriety of keeping George's predicament from the press. + +"My God!" said George in amazement, and Martin Jaffry had responded +fervently with "O Lord!" + +Not because it shocked him to think that there might be indiscretions known +to the lawyer of a chief of police which the chief might not wish known to +the world, but because, with the addition of this new coil to his nephew's +affairs, he was suddenly struck with the possibility of still other coils +in any one of which the saving element of indiscretion might be wanting. + +Suppose they should come upon one, just one impregnable honesty, one soul +whom the fear of exposure left unshaken. On such a possibility rested the +exemption of the Jaffry-Remingtons. It was the reference to E. Eliot in his +instructions to Betty which had awakened in Jaffry's mind the disquieting +reflection that just here might prove such an impregnability. They probably +wouldn't be able to "do anything" with E. Eliot simply because she herself +had never done anything she was afraid to go to the public about. To do him +justice, it never occurred to him that in the case of a lady it was easily +possible to invent something which would be made to answer in place of an +indiscretion. + +Probably that was Martin Jaffry's own impregnability--that he wouldn't have +lied about a lady to save himself. What he did conclude was that it was +just this unbending quality of women, this failure to provide the saving +weakness, which unfitted them for political life. + +He shuddered, seeing the whole fabric of politics fall in ruins around +an electorate composed largely of E. Eliots, feeling himself stripped of +everything that had so far distinguished him from the Noonans and the +Doolittles. + +Out of his sudden need for reinstatement with himself, he raised in his +mind the vision of woman as the men of Martin Jaffry's world conceived +her--a tender, enveloping medium in which male complacency, unchecked by +any breath of criticism, reaches its perfect flower--the flower whose +fruit, eaten in secret and afar from the soil which nourishes it, is graft, +corruption and civic incompetence. + +Instinctively his need directed him toward the Remington place. + +Mrs. Brewster-Smith was glad to see him. Between George's hurried departure +and Jaffry's return several of the specters that haunt such women's lives +looked boldly in at the window. + +There was the specter of scandal, as it touched the Remingtons, touching +that dearest purchase of femininity, social standing; there was the specter +of poverty, which threatened from the exposure of the source of her income +and the enforcement of the law; nearer and quite as poignant, was the +specter of an ignominious retreat from the comfort of George Remington's +house to her former lodging, which she was shrewd enough to realize would +follow close on the return of her cousin's wife. + +All morning she had beaten off the invisible host with that courage--worthy +of a better cause--with which women of her class confront the assaults of +reality; and the sight of Martin Jaffry coming up the broad front walk met +her like a warm waft of security. She flung open the door and met him with +just that mixture of deference and relief which the situation demanded. + +She was terribly anxious about poor Geneviève, of course, but not so +anxious that she couldn't perceive how Genevieve's poor uncle had suffered. + +"What, no breakfast! Oh, you poor man! Come right out into the +dining-room." + +Mrs. Brewster-Smith might have her limitations, but she was entirely aware +of the appeasing effect of an open fire and a spread cloth even when no +meal is in sight; she was adept in the art of enveloping tenderness and the +extent to which it may be augmented by the pleasing aroma of ham and eggs +and the coffee which she made herself. And oh, those _poor_ women, what +_disaster_ they were bringing on themselves by their prying into things +that were better left to more competent minds, and what pain to _other_ +minds! So _selfish_, but of course they didn't realize. Really she hoped +it would be a lesson to Geneviève. The dear girl was so changed that she +didn't see how she was going to go on living with her; though, of course, +she would like to stand by dear George--and a woman did so appreciate a +home! + +At this point the enveloping tenderness of Mrs. Brewster-Smith concentrated +in her fine eyes, just brushed the heart of her listener as with a passing +wing, hovered a moment, and dropped demurely to the tablecloth. + +In the meantime two sorely perplexed citizens were grappling with the +problem of the disappearance of two highly respectable women from their +homes under circumstances calculated to give the greatest anxiety to +faithful "party" men. It hadn't needed Penny's professional acquaintance +with Chief Buckley to impress the need of secrecy on that official's soul. +"Squeal" on Noonan or Mike the Goat? Not if he knew himself. Naturally Mr. +Remington must have his wife, but at the same time it was important to +proceed regularly. + +"And the day before election, too!" mourned the chief. "Lord, what a mess! +But keep cool, Mr. Remington; this will come out all right!" + +After half an hour of such ineptitudes, Penfield Evans found it necessary +to withdraw his partner from the vicinity of the police before his +impatience reached the homicidal pitch. + +"Buckley's no such fool as he sounds," Penny advised. "He probably has a +pretty good idea where the women are hidden, but you must give him time to +tip off Mike for a getaway." + +But the suggestion proved ill chosen, at least so far as it involved a hope +of keeping George from the newspapers. Shocked to the core of his young +egotism as he had been, Remington was yet not so shocked that the need of +expression was not stronger in him than any more distant consideration. + +"Getaway!" he frothed. "Getaway! While a woman like my wife--" But the bare +idea was too much for him. + +"They may get away, but they'll not get off--not a damned one of them--of +_us_," he corrected himself, and with face working the popular young +candidate for district attorney set off almost on a run for the office of +the Sentinel. + +Reflecting that if his friend was bent upon official suicide, there was +still no reason for his being, a witness to it, Penny turned aside into +a telephone booth and called up Betty Sheridan. He heard her jump at the +sound of his voice, and the rising breath of relief running into his name. + +"O-o-oh, Penny! Yes, about twenty minutes ago. Geneviève is with her.... +Oh, yes, I'm sure." + +Her voice sounded strong and confident. + +"They're in a house about an hour from the factory," she went on, "among +some trees. I'm sure she said trees. We were cut off. No, I couldn't get +her again.... Yes ... it's a party line. In the Redfield district. Oh, +Penny, do you think they'll do her any harm?" + +It was, no doubt, the length of time it took to assure Miss Sheridan on +this point that prevented Evans from getting around to the _Sentinel_, +whose editor was at that moment giving an excellent exhibition of +indecision between his obligation as a journalist and his rôle of leading +citizen in a town where he met his subscribers at dinner. + +It was good stuff--oh, it was good! What headlines! + +PROMINENT SOCIETY WOMEN KIDNAPPED + +CANDIDATE REMINGTON REPUDIATES PARTY! + +It was good for a double evening edition. On the other hand, there was +Norton, one of his largest advertisers. There was also the rival city of +Hamilton, which was even now basely attempting to win away from Whitewater +a recently offered Carnegie library on the ground of its superior fitness. + +Finally there was the party. + +The _Sentinel_ had always been a sound party organ. But _what_ a scoop! +And suppose it were possible to save the party at the expense of its worst +element? Suppose they raised the cry of reform and brought Remington in on +a full tide of public indignation? + +Would Mike stand the gaff? If it were made worth his while. But what about +Noonan and Doolittle? So the editorial mind shuttled to and fro amid the +confused outpourings of the amazed young candidate, while with eyes bright +and considering as a rat's the editor followed Remington in his pacings up +and down the dusty, littered room. + +Completely occupied with his own reactions, George's repudiation swept on +in an angry, rapid stream which, as it spent itself, began to give place to +the benumbing consciousness of a divided hearing. + +Until this moment Remington had had a pleasant sense of the press as a fine +instrument upon which he had played with increasing mastery, a trumpet upon +which, as his mind filled with commendable purposes, he could blow a very +pretty tune,--a noble tune with now and then a graceful flourish acceptable +to the public ear. Now as he talked he began to be aware of flatness, of +squeaking keys.... + +"Naturally, Mr. Remington, I'll have to take this up with the business +management..." dry-lipped, the tune sputtered out. At this juncture the +born journalist awaked again in the editorial breast at the entrance of +Penfield Evans with his new item of Betty's interrupted message. + +Two women shut up in a mysterious house among the trees! Oh, hot stuff, +indeed! + +Under it George rallied, recovered a little of the candidate's manner. + +"Understand," he insisted. "This goes in even if I have to pay for it at +advertising rates." + +A swift pencil raced across the paper as Remington's partner swept him off +again to the police. + +Betty's call had come a few minutes before ten. What had happened was very +simple. + +The two women had been given breakfast, for which their hands had been +momentarily freed. When the bonds had been tied again it had been easy for +E. Eliot to hold her hands in such a position that she was left, when their +keeper withdrew, with a little freedom of movement. + +By backing up to the knob she had been able to open a door into an +adjoining room, in which she had been able to make out a telephone on a +stand against the wall. + +This room also had locked windows and closed shutters, but her quick wit +had enabled her to make use of that telephone. + +Shouldering the receiver out of the hook, she had called Betty's number, +and, with Geneviève stooping to listen at the dangling receiver, had called +out two or three broken sentences. + +Guarded as their voices had been, however, some one in the house had been +attracted by them, and the wire had been cut at some point outside the +room. E. Eliot and Geneviève came to this conclusion after having lost +Betty and failed to raise any answer to their repeated calls. Somebody came +and looked in at them through the half-open door, and, seeing them still +bound, had gone away again with a short, contemptuous laugh. + +"No matter," said E. Eliot. "Betty heard us, and the central office will be +able to trace the call." + +It was because she could depend on Betty's intelligence, she went on to +say, that she had called her instead of the Remington house--for suppose +that fool Brewster-Smith woman had come to the telephone! + +She and Geneviève occupied themselves with their bonds, fumbling back to +back for a while, until Geneviève had a brilliant idea. Kneeling, she bit +at the cords which held Miss Eliot's wrists until they began to give. + + * * * * * + +What Betty had done intelligently was nothing to what she had done without +meaning it. She had been unkind to Pudge. Young Sheridan was in a condition +which, according to his own way of looking at it, demanded the utmost +kindness. + +Following a too free indulgence in _marrons glacés_ he had been relegated +to a diet that reduced him to the extremity of desperation. + +Not only had he been forbidden to eat sweets, but while his soul still +longed for its accustomed solace, his stomach refused it, and he was unable +to eat a box of candied fruit which he had with the greatest ingenuity +secured. + +And that was the occasion Betty took--herself full of nervous starts and +mysterious recourse to the telephone behind locked doors--to remind him +cruelly that he was getting flabby from staying too much in the house and +to recommend a long walk for his good. + +It was plain that she would stick at nothing to get her brother out of the +way, and Pudge was cut to the heart. + +Oh, well, he would go for a walk, from which he would probably be brought +home a limp and helpless cripple. Come to think of it, if he once got +started to walk he was not sure he would ever turn back; he would just walk +on and on into a kinder environment than this. + +After all, it is impossible to walk in that fateful way in a crowded city +thoroughfare. Besides, one passes so many confectioners with their mingled +temptation and disgust. Pudge rode on the trolley as far as the city +limits. Here there was softer ground underfoot and a hint of melancholy in +the fields. A flock of crows going over gave the appropriate note. + +Off there to the left, set back from the road among dark, crowding trees, +stood a mysterious house. Pudge always insisted that he had known it for +mysterious at the first glance. It had a mansard roof and shutters of a +sickly green, all closed; there was not a sign of life about, but smoke +issued from one of the chimneys. + +Here was an item potent to raise the sleuth that slumbers in every boy, +even in such well-cushioned bosoms as Pudge Sheridan's. + +He paused in his walk, fell into an elaborately careless slouch, and tacked +across the open country toward the back of the house. Here he discovered a +considerable yard fenced with high boards that had once been painted the +same sickly green as the shutters, and a great buckeye tree just outside, +spreading its branches over the corner furthest from the house. + +Toward this post of observation he was drifting with that fine assumption +of aimlessness which can be managed on occasion by almost any boy, when he +was arrested by a slight but unmistakable shaking of one of the shutters, +as though some one from within were trying the fastenings. + +The shaking stopped after a moment, and then, one after another, the slats +of the double leaves were seen to turn and close as though for a secret +survey of the field. After a moment or two this performance was repeated at +the next window on the left, and finally at a third. + +Here the shaking was resumed after the survey, and ended with the shutter +opening with a snap and being caught back from within and held cautiously +on the crack. Pudge kicked clods in his path and was pretentiously occupied +with a dead beetle which he had picked up. + +All at once something flickered across the ground at his feet, swung two or +three times, touched his shoe, traveled up the length of his trousers and +rested on his breast. How that bosom leaped to the adventure! + +He fished hurriedly in his pocket and brought up a small round mirror. It +had still attached to its rim a bit of the ribbon by which it had been +fastened to his sister's shopping bag, from which, if the truth must be +told, he had surreptitiously detached it. + +Pretending to consult it, as though it were some sort of pocket oracle, +Pudge flashed back, and presently had the satisfaction of seeing a +bright fleck of light travel across the shutter. Immediately there was +a responsive flicker from the window: one, two, three, he counted, and +flashed back: one, two, three. + +Pudge's whole being was suffused with delicious thrills. He wished now he +had obeyed that oft-experienced presentiment and learned the Morse code; it +was a thing no man destined for adventure should be without. This wordless +interchange went on for a few moments, and then a hand, a woman's hand--O +fair, imprisoned ladies of all time!--appeared cautiously at the open +shutter, waved and pointed. + +It pointed toward the buckeye tree. Pudge threw a stone in that direction +and sauntered after it, pitching and throwing. Once at the corner, after a +suitable exhibition of casualness, he climbed until he found himself higher +than the fence, facing the house. + +While he was thus occupied, things had been happening there. The shutter +had been thrown back and a woman was climbing down by the help of a window +ledge below and a pair of knotted window curtains. + +Another woman prepared to follow her, gesticulating forcibly to the other +not to wait, but to run. Run she did, but it was not until Pudge, lying +full length on the buckeye bough, reached her a hand that he discovered her +to be his sister's friend, Geneviève Remington. + +In the interval of her scrambling up by the aid of the bent bough and such +help as he could give her, they had neglected to observe the other woman. +Now, as Mrs. Remington's heels drummed on the outside of the fence, Pudge +was aware of some commotion in the direction of the house, and saw Miss +Eliot running toward him, crying: "Run, run!" while two men pursued her. +She made a desperate jump toward the tree, caught the branch, hung for +a moment, lost her hold, and brought Pudge ignominiously down in a heap +beside her. + +If Miss Eliot had not contradicted it, Pudge would have believed to his +dying day that bullets hurtled through the air; it was so necessary to +the dramatic character of the adventure that there should be bullets. +He recovered from the shock of his fall in time to hear Miss Eliot say: +"Better not touch me, Mike; if there's so much as a bruise when my friends +find me, you'll get sent up for it." + +Her cool, even tones cut the man's stream of profanity like a knife. He +came threateningly close to her, but refrained from laying hands on either +of them. + +Meantime his companion drew himself up to the top of the fence for a look +over, and dropped back with a gesture intended to be reassuring. Pudge rose +gloriously to the occasion. + +"The others have gone back to call the police," he announced. Mike spat out +an oath at him, but it was easy to see that he was not at all sure that +this might not be the case. The possibility that it might be, checked +a movement to pursue the fleeing Geneviève. Miss Eliot caught their +indecision with a flying shaft. + +"Mrs. George Remington," she said, "will probably be in communication with +her friends very shortly. And between his wife and his old and dear friend +Mike it won't take George Remington long to choose." + +This was so obvious that it left the men nothing to say. They fell in +surlily on either side of her, and without any show of resistance she +walked calmly back toward the house. Pudge lingered, uncertain of his cue. + +"Beat it, you putty-face!" Mike snarled at him, showing a yellow fang. "If +you ain't off the premises in about two shakes, you'll get what's comin' to +you. See?" + +Pudge walked with as much dignity as he could muster in the direction +of the public road. He could see nothing of Mrs. Remington in either +direction; now and then a private motor whizzed by, but there was no other +house near enough to suggest a possibility of calling for help. + +He concealed himself in a group of black locusts and waited. In about half +an hour he heard a car coming from the house with the mansard roof, and saw +that it held three occupants, two men and a woman. The men he recognized, +and he was certain that the woman, though she was well bundled up, was +not E. Eliot. + +The motor turned away from the town and disappeared in the opposite +direction. Pudge surmised that Mike was making his getaway. He waited +another half hour and began to be assailed by the pangs of hunger. The +house gave no sign; even the smoke from the chimney stopped. + +He was sure Miss Eliot was still there; imagination pictured her weltering +in her own gore. Between fear and curiosity and the saving hope that there +might be food of some sort in the house, Pudge left his hiding place and +began a stealthy approach. + +He came to the low stoop and crept up to the closed front door. Hovering +between fear and courage, he knocked. But there was no response. With +growing boldness he tried the door. It was locked. + +The rear door also was bolted; but, creeping on, he found a high side +window that the keepers of this prison in their hasty flight had forgotten +to close. With the aid of an empty rain barrel, which he overturned and +rolled into position, Pudge scrambled with much hard breathing through +the window and dropped into the kitchen. Here he listened; his ears could +discern no sound. On tiptoe he crept through the rooms of the first +floor--but came upon neither furtive enemy nor imprisoned friend. Up the +narrow stairway he crept--peeped into three bedrooms--and finally opening +the door of what was evidently a storeroom, he found the object of his +search. + +E. Eliot sat in an old splint-bottomed chair--gagged, arms tied behind her +and to the chair's back, and her ankles tied to the chair's legs. In a +moment Pudge had the knotted towel out of her mouth, and had cut her bonds. +But quick though Pudge was, to her he seemed intolerably slow; just then E. +Eliot was thinking of only one thing. + +This was the final afternoon of the campaign and she was away out here, far +from all the great things that might be going on. + +She gave a single stretch of her cramped muscles as she rose. "I know +you--you're Betty Sheridan's brother--thanks," she said briskly. "What time +is it?" + +Pudge drew out his most esteemed possession, a watch which kept perfect +time--except when it refused to keep any time at all. + +"Three o'clock," he announced. + +"Then our last demonstration is under way, and when I tell my story--" E. +Eliot interrupted herself. "Come on--let's catch the trolley!" + +With Pudge panting after her, she hurried downstairs, unbolted the door, +and, running lightly on the balls of her feet, sped in the direction of the +street car line. + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +BY LEROY SCOTT + + +In the meantime, concern and suspense and irruptive wrath had their chief +abode in the inner room of Remington and Evans. George had received a +request, through Penny Evans, from the chief of police to remain in his +office, where he could be reached instantly if information concerning +Geneviève were received, and where his help could instantly be secured were +it required; and Penny had enlarged that request to the magnitude of a +command and had stood by to see that it was obeyed, and himself to give +assistance. + +George had recognized the sense of the order, but he rebelled at the +enforced inactivity. Where was Geneviève?--why wasn't he out doing +something for her? He strode about the office, fuming, sick with the +suspense and inaction of his rôle. + +But Geneviève was not his unbroken concern. He was still afire with the +high resentment which a few hours earlier had made him go striding into the +office of the _Sentinel_. Fragments of his statement to the editor leaped +into his mind; and as he strode up and down he repeated phrases silently, +but with fierce emphasis of the soul. + +Now and again he paused at his window and looked down into Main Street. +Below him was a crowd that was growing in size and disorder: the last +afternoon of any campaign in Whitewater was exciting enough; much more so +were the final hours of this campaign that marked the first entrance of +women into politics in Whitewater on a scale and with an organized energy +that might affect the outcome of the morrow's voting. + +Across the way, Mrs. Herrington, the fighting blood of five generations +of patriots roused in her, had reinstated the Voiceless Speech within the +plate-glass window broken by the stones of that morning and was herself +operating it; and, armed with banners, groups of women from the Woman's +Club, the Municipal League and the Suffrage Society were marching up and +down the street sidewalks. It was their final demonstration, their last +chance to assert the demands of good citizenship--and it had attracted +hundreds of curious men, vote-owners, belonging to what, in such periods of +political struggle, are referred to on platforms as "our better element." + +Also drifting into Main Street were groups of voters of less prepossessing +aspect--Noonan's men, George recognized them to be. These jeered and +jostled the marching women and hooted the remarks of the Voiceless +Speech--but the women, disregarding insults and attacks, went on with their +silent campaigning. The feeling was high--and George could see, as Noonan's +men kept drifting into Main Street, that feeling was growing higher. + +Looking down, George felt an angered exultation. Well, his statement in the +_Sentinel_, due upon the street almost any moment, would answer all these +and give them something to think about!--a statement which would make an +even greater stir than the declaration which he had issued those many weeks +ago, when, fresh from his honeymoon, he had begun his campaign for the +district attorneyship.--[Illustration: Across the way, Mrs. Herrington, +the fighting blood of five generations of patriots roused in her, had +reinstated the Voiceless Speech.] These people below certainly had a +jolt coming to them! + +George's impatient and glowering meditations--the hour was then near +four--were broken in upon by several interruptions, which came on him in +quick succession, as though detonated by brief-interval time-fuses. The +first was the entrance of that straw-haired misspeller of his letters who +had succeeded Betty Sheridan as guardian of the outer office. + +"Mr. Doolittle is here," she announced. "He says he wants to see you." + +"You tell Mr. Doolittle _I_ don't want to see _him_!" commanded the +irritated George. + +But Mr. Benjamin Doolittle was already seeing his candidate. As political +boss of his party, he had little regard for such a formality as being +announced to any person on whom he might call--so he had walked through the +open door. + +"Well, what d'you want, Doolittle?" George demanded aggressively. + +Mr. Doolittle's face wore that look of bland solicitude, that unobtrusive +partnership in the misfortune of others, which had made him such an +admirable and prosperous officiant at the last rites of residents of +Whitewater. + +"I just wanted to ask you, George--" he was beginning in his soft, +lily-of-the-valley voice, when the telephone on George's desk started +ringing. George turned and reached for it, to find that Penny had already +picked up the instrument. + +"I'll answer it, George.... Hello... Mr. Remington is here, but is busy; +I'll speak for him--I'm Mr. Evans.... What--it's you! Where are you?... +Stay where you are; I'll come right over for you in my car." + +"Who was that?" demanded George. + +"Geneviève," Penny said rapidly, seizing his hat, "and I'm going----" + +"So am I!" exclaimed George. + +"Not till we've had a little understanding," sharply put in Doolittle, +blocking his way. + +"Stay here, George," his partner snapped out--"she's perfectly safe--just +a little out of breath--telephoned from a drug store over in the Red-field +district. I'll have her back here in fifteen minutes." And out Penny +dashed, slamming the door. + +But perhaps it was the straw-haired successor of Betty Sheridan who really +prevented George from plunging after his partner. + +"You ordered the _Sentinel_ sent up as soon as it was out," she said. "Here +are six copies." + +George seized the ink-damp papers, and as the straw-haired one walked out +in rubber-heeled silence he turned savagely upon his campaign manager. + +"Well, Doolittle?" he demanded. + +"I just want to ask you, George----" + +George exploded. "Oh, you just want to ask me! Well, everything you want to +ask me is answered in that paper. Read it!" + +Doolittle took the copy of the _Sentinel_ which was thrust into his hands. +George watched him with triumphant grimness, awaiting the effect of the +bomb about to explode in the other's face. Mr. Doolittle unfolded the +_Sentinel_--looked it slowly through--then raised his eyes to George. His +face seemed somewhat puzzled, but otherwise it was overspread with that +sympathetic concern which, as much as his hearse and his folding-chairs, +was a part of his professional equipment. + +"Why, George. I don't just get what you're driving at." + +Forgetting that he was holding several copies of the Sentinel, George +dropped them all upon the floor and seized the paper from Mr. Doolittle. He +glanced swiftly over the first page--and experienced the highest voltage +shock of his young public career. Feverishly he skimmed the remaining +pages. But of all that he had poured out in the office of the _Sentinel_, +not one word was in print. + +Automatically clutching the paper in a hand that fell to his side, he +stared blankly at his campaign manager. Mr. Doolittle gazed back with his +air of sympathetic concern, bewildered questioning in his eyes. And for a +space, despite the increasing uproar down in the street, there was a most +perfect silence in the inner office of Remington and Evans. + +Before either of the two men could speak, the door was violently flung open +and Martin Jaffry appeared. His clothing was disarranged, his manner +agitated--in striking contrast to the dapper and composed appearance usual +to that middle-aged little gentleman. + +"George," he panted, "heard anything about Geneviève?" + +"She's safe. Penny's got charge of her by this time." + +His answer was almost mechanical. + +"Thank God!" Uncle Martin collapsed in one of the office chairs. "Mind--if +sit here minute--get my breath." + +George did not reply, for he had not heard. He was gazing steadily at Mr. +Doolittle; some great, but as yet shapeless, force was surging up dazingly +within him. But he somehow held himself in control. + +"Well, Doolittle," he demanded, "you said you came to ask something." + +Mr. Doolittle's manner was still propitiatingly bland. "I'll mention +something else first, George, if you don't mind. You just remarked I'd find +your answer in the _Sentinel_. There must 'a' been some little slip-up +somewhere. So I guess I better mention first that the _Sentinel_ has +arranged to stand ready to get out an extra." + +"An extra! What for?" + +"Principally, George, I reckon to print those answers you just spoke of." + +George still kept that mounting something under his control. "Answers to +what?" + +"Why, George," the other replied softly, persuasively. "I guess we'd better +have a little chat--as man to man--about politics. Meaning no offense, +George, stalling is all right in politics--but this time you've carried +this stalling act a little too far. As the result of your tactics, George, +why here's all this disorder in our streets--and the afternoon before +election. If you'd only really tried to stop these messing women----" + +"I didn't try to stop them by kidnapping them!" burst from George--and +Uncle Martin, his breath recovered, now sat up, clutching his homespun cap. + +"Kidnapping women?" queried the bland, bewildered voice of the party boss. +"I say, George, I don't know what you're talking about." "Why, you--" But +George caught himself. "Speak it out, Doolittle--what do you want?" + +"Since you ask it so frankly, George, I'll try to put it plain: You been +going along handing out high-sounding generalities. There's nothing better +and safer than generalities--usually. But this ain't no usual case, George. +These women, stirring everything up, have got the solid interests so +unsettled that they don't know where they're at--or where you're at. And a +lot of boys in the organization feel the same way. What the crisis needs, +George, is a plain statement of your intentions as district attorney, +which we can get into that _Sentinel_ extra and which will reassure the +public--and the organization." + +"A plain statement?" There was a grim set to George's jaw. + +"Oh, it needn't go into too many details. Just what you might call a +ringing declaration about this being the greatest era of prosperity +Whitewater has ever known, and that you conceive it to be the duty of your +administration to protect and stimulate this prosperity. The people will +understand, and the organization will understand. I guess you get what I +mean, George." + +"Yes, I get what you mean!" exploded George, his fist crashing upon the +table. "You mean you want me to be a complacent accessory to all the legal +evasions that you and your political gang and the rich bunch behind you +may want to get away with! You want me to be a crook in office! By God, +Doolittle----" + +"Shut up, Remington," snapped the political boss, his soft manner now +vanished, his whole aspect now grimly menacing. "I know the rest of what +you're going to say. I was pretty certain what it 'ud be before I came +here, but I had to know for sure. Well, I know now, all right!" + +His lank jaws snapped again. + +"Since you are not going to represent the people that put you up, I demand +your written withdrawal as candidate for the district attorney's office." + +"And I refuse to give it!" cried George. "I was nominated by a convention, +not by you. And I don't believe the party is as crooked as you--anyhow I'm +going to give the decent members of the party a chance to vote decently! +And you can't remove me from the ballot, either, for the ballot is already +printed and----" + +"That'll do you no----" + +"I thought some time ago I was through with this political mess," George +drove on. "But, Doolittle, damn you, I've just begun to get in it! And I'm +going to see it through to the finish!" + +Suddenly a thin little figure thrust itself between the bellicose pair and +began shaking George's hand. It was Martin Jaffry. + +"George--I guess I'm my share of an old scoundrel--and a trimmer--but +hearing some one stand up and talk man's talk--" He broke off to shake +George's hand again. "I thought you were the king of boobs--but, boy, I'm +with you to wherever you want to go--if my money will last that far!" + +"Keep out of this, Jaffry," roughly growled Doolittle. "It's too late for +your dough to help this young pup. Remington, we may not take you off the +ballot, but the organization kin send out word to the boys----" + +"To knife me! Of course, I expect that! All right--go to it! But I'm on +the ballot--you can't deprive people of the chance of voting for me. And I +shall announce myself an independent and shall run as one!" + +"We may not be able to elect our own nominee," harshly continued Doolittle, +"but we kin send out word to back the Democratic candidate. Miller ain't +much, but, at least, he's a soft man. And that _Sentinel_ extra is going +to say that a feeling has spread among the respectable element that it has +lost confidence in you, and is going to say that prominent party members +feel the party has made a mistake in ever putting you up. So run, damn +you--run as a Democrat, a Republican, an Independent--but how are you going +to git it across to the public in a way to do yourself any good--without +backing? How are you going to git it across to the public?" + +His last words, flung out with overmastering fury, brought George up short, +and he saw this. Doolittle's wrath had mounted to that pitch which should +never be reached by the resentment of a practical politician; it had +attained such force that it drove him on to taunt his man. "How are you +going to git it before the public?" he again demanded, eyes agleam with +triumphant rancor--"with us shutting you off and hammering you on one +side?--and them damned messy women across the street hammering you from the +other side? Oh, it's a grand chance you have--one little old grand chance! +Especially with those dear damned females loving you like they do! Jest +take a look at what the bunch over there are doing to you!" + +Doolittle followed his own taunting suggestion; and George, too, glanced +through his window across the crowded street into the shattered window +whence issued the Voiceless Speech. In that jagged frame in the raw +November air still stood Mrs. Harvey Herrington, turning the giant leaves +of her soundless oratory. The heckling request which then struck George's +eyes began: "_Will Candidate Remington answer_----" + +George Remington read no more. His already tense figure suddenly stiffened; +he caught a sharp breath. Then, without a word to the two men with him, +he seized his hat and dashed from his office. The street was even more a +turbulent human sea, with violently twisting eddies, than had appeared from +George's windows. It seemed that every member of the organizations whom +Mrs. Herrington (and also Betty Sheridan, and later E. Eliot, and, at the +last, Geneviève) had brought into this fight, were now downtown for the +supreme effort. And it seemed that there were now more of the so-called +"better citizens." Certainly there were more of Noonan's men, and these +were still elbowing and jostling, and making little mass rushes--yet +otherwise holding themselves ominously in control. + +Into this milling assemblage George flung himself, so dominated by the +fiery urge within him that he did not hear Geneviève call to him from +Penny's car, which just then swung around the corner and came to a sharp +stop on the skirts of the crowd. George shouldered his way irresistibly +through this mass; the methods of his football days when he had been famed +as a line-plunging back instinctively returned--and, all the fine chivalry +forgotten which had given to his initial statement to the voters of +Whitewater so noble a sound, he battered aside many of those "fairest +flowers of our civilization, to protect whom it is man's duty and +inspiration." + +His lunging progress followed by curses and startled cries of feminine +indignation, he at length emerged upon the opposite sidewalk, and, +breathless and disheveled, he burst into the headquarters of the Voiceless +Speech. + +Some half-dozen of Mrs. Herrington's assistants cried out at his abrupt +entrance. Mrs. Herrington, forward beside the speech, turned quickly about. + +"Mr. Remington, you here!" she cried in amazement as he strode toward her. +"What--what do you want?" + +"I want--I want--" gasped George. But instead of finishing his sentence he +elbowed Mrs. Herrington out of the way, shoved past her, and stepped forth +in front of the Voiceless Speech. There, standing in the frame of jagged +plate-glass, upon what was equivalent to a platform raised above the crowd, +he sent forth a speech which had a voice. "Ladies and gentlemen!" he +called, raising an imperative hand. The uproar subsided to numerous +exclamations, then to surprised silence; even Noonan's men checked their +disorder at this appearance of their party's candidate. + +"Ladies and gentlemen," and this Voiceful Speech was loud,--"I'm here to +answer the questions of this contrivance behind me. But first let me tell +you that though I'm on the ballot as the candidate of the Republican party, +I do not want the backing of the Republican machine. I'm running as an +Independent, and I shall act as an Independent. + +"Here are my answers: + +"I want to tell you that I shall enforce all the factory laws. + +"I want to tell you that I shall enforce the laws governing housing +conditions--particularly housing conditions in the factory district. + +"I want to tell you that I shall enforce the laws governing child labor and +the laws governing the labor of women. + +"And I want to tell you that I shall enforce every other law, and shall try +to secure the passage of further laws, which will make Whitewater a clean, +forward-looking city, whose first consideration shall be the welfare of +all. + +"And, ladies and gentlemen--" he shouted, for the hushed voices had begun +to rise--"I wish I could address you all as fellow-voters!--I want to tell +you that I take back that foolish statement I made at the opening of the +campaign. + +"I want to tell you that I stand for, and shall fight for, equal suffrage! + +"And I want to tell you that what has brought this change is what some of +the women of White-water have shown me--and also some of the things our men +politicians have done--our Doolittles, our Noonans----" + +But George's speech terminated right there. Noise there had been before; +now there burst out an uproar, and there came an artillery attack of eggs, +vegetables, stones and bricks. One of the bricks struck George on the +shoulder and drove him staggering back against the Voiceless Speech, +sending that instrument of silent argument crashing to the floor. Regaining +his balance, George started furiously back for the window; but Mrs. +Herrington caught his arm. + +"Let me go!" he called, trying to shake her off. + +But she held on. "Don't--you've said enough!" she cried, and pulled him +toward the rear of the room. "Look!" + +Through the window was coming a heavier fire of impromptu grenades that +rolled, spent, at their feet. But what they saw without was far more +stirring and important. Noonan's men in the crowd, their hoodlumism now +unleashed, were bowling over the people about them; but these really +constituted Noonan's outposts and advance guards. + +From out of two side streets, though George and Mrs. Herrington could not +see their first appearance upon the scene, Noonan's real army now came +charging into Main Street, as per that gentleman's grim instructions to +"show them messin' women what it means to mess in politics." Hundreds of +Whitewater's women were flung about, many sent sprawling to the pavement, +and some hundreds of the city's most respectable voters, caught unawares, +were hustled about and knocked down by the same ruthless drive. + +"My God!" cried George, impulsively starting forward. "The damned brutes!" + +But Mrs. Herrington still held his arm. "Come on--they're making a drive +for this office!" breathlessly cried the quick-minded lady. "You can do no +good here. Out the rear way--my car's waiting in the back street." + +Still clutching his sleeve, Mrs. Herrington opened a door and ran across +the back yard of McMonigal's building in a manner which indicated that that +lady had not spent her college years (and similarly spent the years since +then propped among embroidered cushions consuming marshmallows and fudge.) + +The lot crossed, she hurried through a little grocery and thence into the +street. Here they ran into a party that, seeing the riot on Main Street +and the drive upon the window from which George had spoken, had rushed up +reinforcements from the rear--a party consisting of Penny, E. Eliot, Betty +Sheridan and Geneviève. "Geneviève!" cried George, and caught her into his +arms. + +"Oh, George," she choked. "I--I heard it all--and it--it was simply +wonderful!" + +"George," cried Betty Sheridan, "I always knew, if you got the right kind +of a jolt, you'd be--you'd be what you are!" + +E. Eliot gripped his hand in a clasp almost as strong as George's arm. "Mr. +Remington, if I were a man, I'd like to have the same sort of stuff in me." + +"George, you old roughneck--" began Penny. + +"George," interrupted Geneviève, still chokingly, her protective, wifely +instinct now at the fore, "I saw you hit, and we're going to take you +straight home----" + +"Cut it all out," interrupted the cultured Mrs. Herrington. "This isn't Mr. +Remington's honeymoon--nor his college reunion--nor the annual convention +of his maiden aunts. This is Mr. Remington's campaign, and I'm his new +campaign manager. And his campaign manager says he's not going away out to +his home on Sheridan Road. His campaign headquarters are going to be in +the center of town, at the Commercial Hotel, where he can be reached--for +there's quick work ahead of us. Come on." + +Five minutes later they were all in the Commercial Hotel's best suite. + +"Now, to business, Mr. Remington," briskly began Mrs. Herrington. "Of +course, that was a good speech. But why, in heaven's name, didn't you come +out with it before?" + +"I guess I really didn't know where I stood until today," confessed George, +"and today I tried to come out with it." + +And George went on to recount his experience with the _Sentinel_--his scene +with Doolittle--and Doolittle's plan for an extra of the Sentinel, which +was doubtless then in preparation. + +"So they've got the _Sentinel_ muzzled, have they--and are going to get out +an extra repudiating you," Mrs. Herrington repeated. There came a flash +into her quick, dark eyes. "I want our candidate to stay right here--rest +up--get his thoughts in order. There are a lot of things to be done. I'll +be back in an hour, Mr. Remington. The rest of you come along--you, too, +Mrs. Remington." + +Mrs. Herrington did not altogether keep her word in the matter of time. It +was two hours before she was back. To George she handed a bundle of papers, +remarking: "Thought you'd like to see that _Sentinel_ extra." + +"I suppose Doolittle has done his worst," he remarked grimly. He glanced at +the paper. His face went loose with bewilderment at what he saw--headlines, +big black headlines, bigger and blacker than he had ever before seen in the +politically and typographically conservative _Sentinel_. He read through a +few lines of print, then looked up. + +"Why, it's all here!" he gasped. "The kidnapping of Miss Eliot and +Geneviève by Noonan's men--my break with Doolittle, my denunciation of the +party's methods, my coming out as an independent candidate--that riot on +Main Street! How on earth did that ever get into the _Sentinel_?" + +"Some straight talk, and quick talk, and the exercise of a little of the +art of pressure they say you men exercise," was the prompt reply. "I +telephoned Mr. Ledbetter of the _Sentinel_ advising him to hold the extra +Mr. Doolittle had threatened until he heard from Mr. Wesley Norton, +proprietor of the Norton Dry Goods Store. You know, Mr. Norton is the +_Sentinel_'s largest single advertiser and president of the Whitewater +Business Men's Club. + +"Then a committee of us women called on Mr. Norton and told him that we'd +organize the women of the city and would carry on a boycott campaign +against his store--we didn't really put it quite as crudely as that--unless +he'd force the _Sentinel_ to stop Mr. Doolittle's lying extra and print +your statement. + +"Mr. Norton gave in, and telephoned the _Sentinel_ that if it didn't do as +he said he'd cancel his advertising contract. Then, to make sure, we got +hold of Mr. Jaffry, called on Mr. Ledbetter, who called in the business +manager--and your Uncle Martin told them that unless they printed the +truth, and every bit of it, and printed it at once, he was going to put up +the money to start an opposition paper that _would print the truth_. +That explains the extra." "Well," ejaculated George, still staring, "you +certainly are a wonder as a campaign manager!" + +"Oh, I only did my fraction. That Miss Eliot did as much as I--she's a +find--she's going to be one of Whitewater's really big women. And Betty +Sheridan, you can't guess how Betty's worked--and your wife, Mr. Remington, +she's turning out to be a marvel! + +"But that's not all," Mrs. Herrington continued rapidly. "We bought ten +thousand copies of that extra for ourselves--your uncle paid for them--and +we're going to distribute them in every home in town. When the best element +in Whitewater read how the women were trampled down by Noonan's mob--well, +they'll know how to vote! Mr. Noonan will never guess how much he has +helped us." + +"You seem to have left nothing for me to do," said George. + +"You'll find out there'll be all you'll want," replied the brisk Mrs. +Herrington. "We're organizing meetings--one in every hall in the city, one +on almost every other street corner, and we're going to rush you from one +to the next--most of the night--and there'll be no letup for you tomorrow, +even if it is election day. Yes, you'll find there'll be plenty to do!" + +The next twenty-four hours were the busiest that George Remington had ever +known in his twenty-six years. + +But at nine o'clock the next evening it was over--the tumult and the +shouting and the congratulations--and all were gone save only Martin +Jaffry; and District-Attorney-Elect Remington sat in his hotel suite alone +in the bosom of his family. + +He was still dazed by what had happened to him--at the part he had +unexpectedly played--dazed by the intense but well-ordered activity of +the women: their management of his whirlwind tour of the city; their +organization of parades with amazing swiftness; their rapid and complete +house-to-house canvass--the work of Mrs. Herrington, of Betty, of that +Miss Eliot, of hundreds of women--and especially of Geneviève. He marveled +especially at Geneviève because he had never thought of Geneviève as doing +such things. But she _had_ done them--he felt that somehow she was a +different Geneviève: he didn't know what the difference was--he was in too +much of a whirl for analysis--but he had an undefined sense of _aliveness_, +of a spirited, joyous initiative in her. + +She and all the rest seemed so strange as to be unbelievable. And yet, +she--and all of it--true!... + +From dramatic events and intangible qualities of the spirit, his +consciousness shifted to material things--his immediate surroundings. +Not till this blessed moment of relaxation did he become aware of the +discomforts of this suite--nor did Geneviève fully appreciate the +flamboyantly flowered maroon wall-paper and the jig-saw furniture. + +"George,"' she sighed, "now that you're not needed down here, can't we go +home?" + +"Home!" The word came out half snort, half growl--hardly the tone becoming +one whose triumph was so exultingly fresh. With a jar he had come back to a +present which he fully understood. "Damn home! I haven't any home!" + +Geneviève stared. Uncle Martin snickered, for Uncle Martin had the gift of +understanding. + +"You mean those flowers of womanhood whom chivalrous man----" + +"Shut up," commanded George. He thought for a brief space; then his jaw +set. "Excuse me a moment." + +Drawing hotel stationery toward him, he scribbled rapidly and then sealed +and addressed what he had written. + +"Uncle Martin, your car's outside doing nothing; would you mind going on +ahead and giving this little note to Cousin Alys Brewster-Smith, and then +staying around and having a little supper with Geneviève and me? We'll be +out soon, but there are a few things I want to talk over with Geneviève +alone before we come." + +Uncle Martin would oblige. But when he had gone, there seemed to be nothing +of pressing importance that George had to communicate to Geneviève. Nor +half an hour later, when he led his bride of four months up to their home, +had he delivered himself of anything which seemed to require privacy. + +As they stepped up on the porch, softly lighted by a frosted bulb in its +ceiling, Cousin Emelene, her cat under her arm, came out of the front door +and hurried past them, without speech. + +"Why, Cousin Emelene!" George called after her. + +She paused and half turned. + +"You--you--" she half choked upon expletives that would not come forth. +"The man will come for my trunks in the morning." Thrusting a handkerchief +to her face, she hurried away. + +"George, what can have happened to her?" cried the amazed Geneviève. + +But George was saved answering her just then. Another figure had emerged +from the front door--a rather largish figure, all in black--her left hand +clutching the right hand of a child, aged, possibly, five. And this figure +did not cower and hurry away. This figure halted, and glowered. + +"George Remington," exclaimed Cousin Alys, "after your invitation--you--you +apostate to chivalry! That outrageous letter! But if I am leaving your +home, thank God I'm leaving it for a home of my own! Come on, Martin!" + +With that she stalked away, dragging the sleepy Eleanor. + +Not till then did George and Geneviève become aware that Uncle Martin +was before them, having until now been obscured by Mrs. Brewster-Smith's +outraged amplitude. His arms were loaded with coats, obviously feminine. + +"Uncle Martin!" exclaimed George. + +"George," gulped his uncle--"George--" And then he gained control of a +dazed sort of speech. "When I gave her that letter I didn't know it was +a letter of eviction. And the way she broke down before me--a woman, you +know--I--I--well, George, it's my home she's going to." + +"You don't mean----" + +"Yes, George, that's just what I mean. Though, of course, I'm taking her +back now to Mrs. Gallup's boarding-house until--until--good-night, George; +good-night, Geneviève." The little man went staggering down the walk +with his burden of wraps; and after a minute there came the sound of his +six-cylinder roadster buzzing away into the darkness. + +"I didn't tell 'em they had to go tonight," said George doggedly. "But I +did remark that even if every woman had a right to a home, every woman +didn't have the right to make my home her home. Anyhow," his tone becoming +softer, "I've at last got a home of my own. Our own," he corrected. + +He took her in his arms. "And, sweetheart--it's a better home than when we +first came to it, for now I've got more sense. Now it is a home in which +each of us has the right to think and be what we please." + + * * * * * + +At just about this same hour just about this same scene was being enacted +upon another front porch in Whitewater--there being the slight difference +that this second porch was not softly illuminated by any frosted globule of +incandescence. Up the three steps leading to this second porch Mr. Penfield +Evans had that moment escorted Miss Elizabeth Sheridan. + +"Good-night, Penny," she said. + +He caught her by her two shoulders. + +"See here, Betty--the last twenty-four hours have been mighty busy +hours--too busy even to talk about ourselves. But now--see here, you're not +going to get away with any rough work like that. Come across, now. Will +you?" + +"Will I what?" + +"Say, how long do you think you're a paid-up subscriber to this little +daily speech of mine?... Well, if I've got to hand you another copy, here +goes. You promised me, on your word of honor, if George swung around for +suffrage, you'd swing around for me. Well, George has come around. Not that +I had much to do with it--but he surely did come around! Now, the point +is, Miss Betty Sheridan, are you a woman of your promise--are you going to +marry me?" + +"Well, if you try to put it that way, demanding your pound of flesh----" +"One hundred and twenty pounds," corrected Penny. + +"I'll say that, of course, I don't love you, but I guess a promise is a +promise--and--and--" And suddenly a pair of strong young arms were flung +about the neck of Mr. Penfield Evans. "Oh, I'm so happy, Penny dear!" + +"Betty!" + +After that there was a long silence ... silence broken only by that softly +sibilant detonation which belongs most properly to the month of June, +but confines itself to no season ... to a long, long silence born of and +blessed by the gods ... until one Percival Sheridan, coming stealthily home +from a late debauch at Humphrey's drug store, and mounting the steps in +the tennis sneakers which were his invariable wear on dry and non-state +occasions, bumped into the invisible and unhearing couple. + +"Say, there--" gasped the startled youth, backing away. + +Betty gave an affrighted cry--it was a long swift journey down from where +she had just been. Her right hand, reaching drowningly out, fell upon a +familiar shoulder. + +"It's Pudge!" she cried. "Pudge"--shaking him--"snooping around, listening +and trying to spy----" + +"You stop that--it ain't so!" protested the outraged Pudge, his utterance +throttled down somewhat by the chocolate cream in his mouth. + +"Spying on people! And, besides, you've been stuffing yourself with candy +again! You're ruining your stomach with that sticky sweet stuff--you're +headed straight for a candy-fiend's grave. Now, you go upstairs and to +bed!" + +She jerked him toward the door, opened it, and as he was thrust through +the door Pudge felt something, something warm, press impulsively against a +cheek. Not until the door had closed upon him did he realize what Betty had +done to him. He stood dazed for a moment--unbalanced between impulses. Then +the sturdy maleness of fourteen rewon its dominance. + +"Guess I know what they was doing, all right--aw, wouldn't it make you +sick!" And, in disgust which another chocolate cream alleviated hardly at +all, he mounted to his bed. + +Outside there was again silence ... faintly disturbed only by that softly +sibilant, almost muted percussion which recalls inevitably the month of +June.... + +THE END + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Sturdy Oak, by Samuel Merwin + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STURDY OAK *** + +This file should be named 8soak10.txt or 8soak10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, 8soak11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, 8soak10a.txt + +Produced by Eric Eldred, David Widger +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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