THE situation in Great Britain was becoming deplorable; the Home
Secretary had been chased into the Serpentine; the Prime Minister and a
dozen members of Parliament had taken permanent refuge in the vaults of
the Bank of England; a vast army of suffragettes was parading the streets
of London, singing, cheering, and eating bon-bons. Statues, monuments,
palaces were defaced with the words "Votes for Women," and it was not an
uncommon sight to see some handsome young man rushing distractedly
through Piccadilly pursued by scores of fleet-footed suffragettes of the
eugenic wing of their party, intent on his capture for the purposes of
scientific propagation.
No young man who conformed to the standard of masculine beauty set by the
eugenist suffragettes was safe any longer. Scientific marriage between
perfectly healthy people was now a firmly established principle of the
suffragette propaganda; they began to chase attractive young men on sight
with the avowed determination of marrying them to physically qualified
individuals of their own sex and party, irrespective of social or
educational suitability.
This had already entailed much hardship; the young Marquis of Putney was
chased through Cadogan Place, caught, taken away in a taxi, and married
willy-nilly to a big, handsome, strapping girl who sold dumb-bells in the
new American department store. No matter who the man might be
professionally and socially, if he was young and well-built and athletic
he was chased on sight and, if captured, married to some wholesome and
athletic young suffragette in spite of his piteous protests.
"We will found," cried Mrs. Blinkerly Dank-some-Hankly triumphantly, "a
perfect human race and teach it the immortal principles of woman's
rights. So, if we can't persuade Parliament to come out for us, we'll
take Parliament by the slack of its degraded trousers, some day, and
throw it out!"
This terrible menace delivered in Trafalgar Square was cabled to the
_Outlook_, which instantly issued its first extra; and New York, already
in the preliminary throes of a feminine revolution, went wild.
That day the handsome young Governor of New York, attended by his
ornamental young Military Secretary in full uniform, had arrived at the
Waldorf-Astoria to confer with the attractive young Mayor of the
metropolis concerning a bill to be introduced into the legislature,
permitting the franchise to women under certain conditions. And on the
same day a monster suffragette parade was scheduled.
Some provisions of the proposed measure, somehow or other, had become
known to the National Federation of Women; and as the Governor, his
Military Secretary, and the Mayor sat in earnest conference in a private
room at the Waldorf, the most terrible riot that New York ever saw began
on Fifth Avenue just as the head of the parade, led by the suffragette
band of 100 pieces, arrived at the hotel.
The Governor, Mayor, and Secretary rushed to the windows; acres of
banners waved wildly below; cheer after cheer rent the raw March
atmosphere; in every direction handsome young men were fleeing, pursued
by eugenists. Under their very windows the shocked politicians beheld an
exceedingly good-looking youth seized by several vigorous and beautiful
suffragettes, dragged into a taxi, and hurried away toward a scientific
marriage, kicking and struggling. This was nothing new, alas. More than
one attractive young man had already been followed and spoken to in
Manhattan.
Mr. Dill, president of the Board of Aldermen, and the handsomest
incumbent of the office that the city ever beheld, had been courted so
persistently that, fearful of being picked up, he remained in hiding
disguised as a Broadway fortune teller, where the Mayor came at intervals
to consult him on pretense of having his palms read.
But now the suffragettes threw off all restraint; men, frightened and
confused, were being not only spoken to on Fifth Avenue, but were being
seized and forcibly conducted in taxicabs toward the marriage license
bureau.
It was a very St. Bartholomew for bachelors.
"John," said the Governor to his capable young Military Secretary, "take
off that uniform. I'm going to flee in disguise."
"What does your excellency expect me to flee in--dishabille?" stammered
the Military Secretary.
"I don't care what you flee in," said the Governor bluntly; "but I will
not have it said that the Governor of the great State of New York was
seized by a dozen buxom eugenists and hurried away to become the founder
of a physically and politically perfect race of politicians. Get out of
those gold-laced jeans!"
"I'll flee disguised as a chambermaid," muttered the handsome,
rosy-cheeked young Mayor. And he rang for one.
While the Governor and his Secretary were exchanging clothes they heard
the Mayor in the hallway arguing with a large German chambermaid in an
earnest and fatherly manner, punctuated by coy screams from the maid.
By and by he came back to the room, perspiring.
"I bought her clothes," he said; "she'll throw them over the transom."
The clothing arrived presently by way of the transom; the Governor and
the Secretary tried to aid the Mayor to get into the various sections of
clothing, but as they all were bachelors and young they naturally were
not aware of the functions of the various objects scattered over the
floor.
The Governor picked up a bunch of curls attached to a cup-shaped turban
swirl.
"Good heavens!" he said. "The girl has scalped herself for your sake,
John!"
"I bought that, too," said the Mayor, sullenly. "Do you know which way it
goes on, George?"
They fixed it so that two curls fell down and dangled on either side of
his Honour's nose.
Meanwhile the unfortunate Military Secretary had dressed in the top hat
and cutaway of the Governor.
He said huskily, "If I can't outrun them they'll catch me and try to
start raising statesmen."
"It's your duty to defend me," observed the Governor.
"Yes, with my life, but not with my p-progeny--"
"Then you'd better run faster than you've ever run in all your life,"
said the Governor coldly.
At that moment there came a telephone call.
"Lady at the desk to speak to the Governor," came a voice.
"Hello, who is it?" asked his excellency coyly.
"Professor Elizabeth Challis!" came a very sweet but determined voice.
At the terrible name of the new President of the National Federation of
American Women the Governor jumped with nervousness. Anonymous letters
had warned him that she was after him for eugenic purposes.
"What do you want?" he asked tremulously.
"In the name of the Federation I demand that you instantly destroy the
draft of that infamous bill which you are preparing to rush through at
Albany."
"I won't," said the Governor.
"If you don't," she said, "the committee on eugenics will seize you."
"Let 'em catch me first," he replied, boldly; and rang off.
"Now, John," he said briskly, "as soon as they catch sight of you in my
top hat and cutaway they'll start for you. And I advise you to leg it if
you want to remain single."
The unfortunate Military Secretary gulped with fright, buttoned his
cutaway coat, crammed his top hat over his ears, and gazed fearfully out
of the window, where in the avenue below the riot was still in lively
progress. Terrified young men fled in every direction, pursued by
vigorous and youthful beauty, while the suffragette band played and
thousands of suffragettes cheered wildly.
"Isn't it awful!" groaned the Mayor, arranging the lace cap on his
turban-swirl and shaking out his skirts. "The police are no use. The
suffragettes kidnap the good-looking ones. Are you ready for the sortie,
Governor?"
The Governor in the handsome uniform of his Military Secretary adjusted
his sword and put on the gold-laced cap. Then, thrusting the draft of the
obnoxious bill into the bosom of his tunic, he strode from the room,
followed by his Secretary and the unfortunate Mayor, who attempted in
vain to avoid treading on his own trailing skirts.
"George," said the Mayor, spitting out a curl that kept persistently
getting into his mouth every time he opened it, "I'll be in a pickle
unless I can reach Dill's rooms. . . . Wait! There's a pin sticking into
me----"
"Too late," said the Governor; "it will spur you to run all the faster. .
. . Where is Dill's?"
The Mayor whispered the directions, spitting out his curl at intervals
when it incommoded him; the Governor walked faster to escape.
Down in the elevator they went, gazed at by terror-stricken bell-hops and
scared porters.
As the cheering and band playing grew louder and more distinct the
Secretary quailed, but the Governor admonished him:
"You've simply _got_ to save me," he said. "_Pro_ _bono publico!_ Come
on now. Make a dash for a taxi and the single life! One--two--three!"
The next moment the Secretary's top hat was carried away by a brick; the
Mayor's turban-swirl went the same way, amid showers of confetti and a
yell of fury from a thousand suffragettes who saw in his piteous attempt
to disguise himself, by aid of a turban-swirl, an insult to womanhood the
world over.
A perfect blizzard of missiles rained on the terrified politicians; the
Secretary and the Mayor burst into a frantic canter up Thirty-fourth
Street, pursued by a thousand strikingly handsome women. The Governor ran
west.
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