NONE of the ladies relaxed at Vernon's approach, Mrs. Overman
Hodge-Lathrop least of all. On the contrary she seemed to swell into
proportions that were colossal and terrifying, and when Vernon came
within her sphere of influence his manner at once subdued itself into an
apology.
"Why, Amelia--Mrs. Hodge-Lathrop!" he cried, "and Mrs. Standish, Mrs.
Barbourton, Mrs. Trales, Mrs. Langdon--how do you do?"
He went, of course, straight to Mrs. Overman Hodge-Lathrop's side, the
side that sheltered Amelia, and he tried to take the hands of both women
at once. Amelia gave him hers coldly, without a word and without a look.
He grew weak, inane, and laughed uneasily.
"Delightful morning," he said, "this country air down here is--"
"Morley," said Mrs. Overman Hodge-Lathrop, severely, "take that seat at
the foot of the table."
He obeyed, meekly. The ladies, he thought, from the rustle of their
skirts, withdrew themselves subtly. The only glances they vouchsafed him
were side-long and disapproving. He found it impossible to speak, and so
waited. He could not recall having experienced similar sensations since
those menacing occasions of boyhood when he had been sent to the library
to await his father's coming.
"Delightful morning, indeed!" Mrs. Overman Hodge-Lathrop said, in her
most select tones. "Delightful morning to bring us poor old ladies down
into the country!"
"I bring you down!" ejaculated Vernon.
"Morley," she said, "I don't wish to have one word from you, not one; do
you understand? Your talent for speech has caused trouble enough as it
is. Lucky we shall be if we can undo the half of it!"
Vernon shrank.
"Morley Vernon," Mrs. Overman Hodge-Lathrop continued, "do you know what
I have a notion to do?"
"No, Mrs. Hodge-Lathrop," he said in a very little voice.
"Well, sir, I've a notion to give you a good spanking."
Vernon shot a glance at her.
"Oh, you needn't look, sir," she continued, "you needn't look! It
wouldn't be the first time, as you well know--and it isn't so many years
ago--and I have your mother's full permission, too."
The chain of ladylike sympathy that passed about the table at this
declaration was broken only when its ends converged on Vernon. Even then
they seemed to pinch him.
"Your poor, dear mother," Mrs. Overman Hodge-Lathrop went on, "insisted,
indeed, on coming down herself, but I knew she could never stand such a
trip. I told her," and here Mrs. Overman Hodge-Lathrop paused for an
instant, "I told her that I thought _I_ could manage."
There was a vast significance in this speech.
The waiter had brought the substantials to the ladies, and Mrs. Overman
Hodge-Lathrop began eating determinedly.
"It was, of course, just what I had always predicted," she went on, in a
staccato that was timed by the rise of her fork to her lips, "I knew
that politics would inevitably corrupt you, soon or late. And now it has
brought you to this."
"To what?" asked Vernon, suddenly growing bold and reckless. Amelia had
not given him one glance; she was picking at her chop.
Mrs. Overman Hodge-Lathrop, raising her gold glasses and setting them
aristocratically on the bridge of her nose, fixed her eyes on Vernon.
"Morley," she said, "we know. We have heard and we have read. The
Chicago press is an institution that, fortunately, still survives in
these iconoclastic days. You know very well, of course, what I mean.
Please do not compel me to go into the revolting particulars." She took
her glasses down from her nose, as if that officially terminated the
matter.
"But really, Mrs. Hodge-Lathrop," said Vernon. He was growing angry, and
then, too, he was conscious somehow that Miss Greene was looking at him.
His waiter, John, timidly approached with a glance at the awful presence
of Mrs. Overman Hodge-Lathrop, and said:
"Yo' breakfus, Senato', is gettin' col'."
"That may wait," said Mrs. Overman Hodge-Lathrop, and John sprang back
out of range.
Vernon was determined, then, to have it out.
"Really, Mrs. Hodge-Lathrop, jesting aside--"
"Jesting!" cried Mrs. Overman Hodge-Lathrop, "jesting! Indeed, my boy,
this is quite a serious business!" She tapped with her forefinger.
"Well, then, all right," said Vernon, "I don't know what I've done. All
I have done has been to champion a measure--and I may add, without
boasting, I hope, with some success--all I have done has been to
champion a measure which was to benefit your sex, to secure your rights,
to--"
"Morley!" Mrs. Overman Hodge-Lathrop said, cutting him short. "Morley,
have you indeed fallen so low? It is incomprehensible to me, that a
young man who had the mother you have, who had the advantages you have
had, who was born and bred as you were, should so easily have lost his
respect for women!"
"Lost my respect for women!" cried Vernon, and then he laughed. "Now,
Mrs. Hodge-Lathrop," he went on with a shade of irritation in his tone,
"this is too much!"
Mrs. Overman Hodge-Lathrop was calm.
"Have you shown her any respect?" she went on. "Have you not, on the
contrary, said and done everything you could, to drag her down from her
exalted station, to pull her to the earth, to bring her to a level with
men, to make her soil herself with politics, by scheming and voting and
caucusing and buttonholing and wire-pulling? You would have her degrade
and unsex herself by going to the polls, to caucuses and conventions;
you would have her, no doubt, in time, lobbying for and against measures
in the council chamber and the legislature."
Mrs. Overman Hodge-Lathrop paused and lifted her gold eye-glasses once
more to the bridge of her high, aristocratic nose.
"Is it that kind of women you have been brought up with, Morley? Do we
look like that sort? Glance around this table--do we look like that sort
of women?"
The ladies stiffened haughtily, disdainfully, under the impending
inspection, knowing full well how easily they would pass muster.
"And, if that were not enough," Mrs. Overman Hodge-Lathrop went on
inexorably, "we come here to plead with you and find you hobnobbing with
that mannish thing, that _female_ lawyer!"
She spoke the word _female_ as if it conveyed some distinct idea of
reproach. She was probing another chop with her fork. She had sent the
pot of coffee back to the kitchen, ordering the waiter to tell the cook
that she was accustomed to drink her coffee hot.
"And now, Morley Vernon, listen to me," she said, as if he were about to
hear the conclusion of the whole matter. "If you have any spark of honor
left in you, you will undo what you have already done. This resolution
must be defeated in the Senate to-day; I am down here to see that it is
done. We go to the State House after breakfast, and these ladies will
assist me in laying before each member of the Senate this matter in its
true and exact light. As for our rights," she paused and looked at him
fixedly, "as for our rights, I think we are perfectly capable of
preserving them."
Her look put that question beyond all dispute.
"And now," she resumed, "you would better take a little breakfast
yourself; you look as if you needed strength."
Vernon rose. He stood for an instant looking at Amelia, but she glanced
at him only casually.
"I suppose, Amelia, I shall see you later in the morning?"
"I suppose so, Mr. Vernon," she said. "But pray do not let me keep you
from rejoining your companion." She was quite airy, and lifted her
coffee-cup with one little finger quirked up higher than he had ever
seen it before.
He went back to where Miss Greene sat, and where his breakfast lay.
"My goodness!" he said, seating himself. "I've had a time!"
"I should imagine so," said Miss Greene.
She was just touching her napkin to her lips with a final air. She
carefully pushed back her chair, and rose from the table.
"I beg your pardon," he stammered, getting up himself, "I'll see you
after breakfast."
Miss Greene bowed. Then she left the dining-room.