AFTER the adjournment Vernon sought out Maria Greene and walked with her
down Capitol Avenue toward the hotel. He was prepared to enjoy her
congratulations, but she was silent for a while, and before they spoke
again "Doc" Ames, striding rapidly, had caught up with them. He was
still scowling.
"I was sorry you didn't finish your speech as you intended, sir," he
said, with something of the acerbity of a reproach.
"Why," began Vernon, looking at him, "I--"
"You laid out very broad and comprehensive ground for yourself," the old
man continued, "but unfortunately you did not cover it. You should have
developed your subject logically, as I had hopes, indeed, in the
beginning, you were going to do. An argument based on principle would
have been more to the point than an appeal to the passions. I think Miss
Greene will agree with me. I am sorry you did not acquaint me with your
intention of addressing the Senate on this important measure; I would
very much have liked to confer with you about what you were going to
say. It is not contemplated by those in the reform movement that the
charms of woman shall be advanced as the reason for her right to equal
suffrage with man. It is purely a matter of cold, abstract justice. Now,
for instance," the doctor laid his finger in his palm, and began to
speak didactically, "as I have pointed out to the House, whatever the
power or the principle that gives to man his right to make the law that
governs him, to woman it gives the same right. In thirty-seven states
the married mother has no right to her children; in sixteen the wife has
no right to her own earnings; in eight she has no separate right to her
property; in seven--"
Vernon looked at Miss Greene helplessly, but she was nodding her head in
acquiescence to each point the doctor laid down in his harsh palm with
that long forefinger. Vernon had no chance to speak until they reached
the hotel. She was to take the midday train back to Chicago, and Vernon
had insisted on going to the station with her. Just as she was about to
leave him to go up to her room she said, as on a sudden impulse:
"Do you know that the women of America, yes, the people of America, owe
you a debt?"
Vernon assumed a most modest attitude.
"If we are successful," she went on, "the advocates of equal suffrage
all over the United States will be greatly encouraged; the reform
movement everywhere will receive a genuine impetus."
"You will be down next Wednesday when the resolution comes up again,
won't you?" asked Vernon.
"Indeed, I shall," she said. "Do you have any hopes now?"
"Hopes?" laughed Vernon. "Why certainly; we'll adopt it. I'll give my
whole time to it between now and then. If they don't adopt that
resolution I'll block every other piece of legislation this session,
appropriations and all. I guess that will bring them to time!"
"You're very good," she said. "But I fear Mr. Porter's influence."
"Oh, I'll take care of him. You trust it to me. The women will be voting
in this state next year."
"And you shall be their candidate for governor!" she cried, clasping her
hands.
Vernon colored; he felt a warm thrill course through him, but he waved
the nomination aside with his hand. He was about to say something more,
but he could not think of anything quickly enough. While he hesitated,
Miss Greene looked at her watch.
"I've missed my train," she said, quietly.
Vernon grew red with confusion.
"I beg a thousand pardons!" he said. "It was all my fault and it was
certainly very stupid of me."
"It's of no importance. Where must I go to reserve space on the night
train?" said Miss Greene.
Vernon told her, and proffered his services. He was now delighted at the
philosophical way in which she accepted the situation--it would have
brought the average woman, he reflected, to tears--and then he went on
to picture to himself the practical results in improving women's
characters that his new measure, as he had already come to regard it,
would bring about.