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MAKING PEOPLE HAPPY
[Illustration]
MAKING PEOPLE HAPPY
by
THOMPSON BUCHANAN
Author of A WOMAN'S WAY
Frontispiece by HARRISON FISHER
NEW YORK
W.J. WATT & COMPANY
PUBLISHERS
COPYRIGHT, 1911, BY W. J. WATT & COMPANY
_Published September_
PRESS OF BRAUNWORTH & CO.
BOOKBINDERS AND PRINTERS
BROOKLYN, N.Y.
MAKING PEOPLE HAPPY
CHAPTER I
The bride hammered the table desperately with her gavel. In vain! The
room was in pandemonium.
The lithe and curving form of the girl--for she was only twenty,
although already a wife--was tense now as she stood there in her own
drawing-room, stoutly battling to bring order out of chaos. Usually the
creamy pallor of her cheeks was only most daintily touched with rose: at
this moment the crimson of excitement burned fiercely. Usually her eyes
of amber were soft and tender: now they were glowing with an indignation
that was half-wrath.
Still the bride beat a tattoo of outraged authority with the gavel,
wholly without avail. The confusion that reigned in the charming
drawing-room of Cicily Hamilton did but grow momently the more
confounded. The Civitas Club was in full operation, and would brook no
restraint. Each of the twelve women, who were ranged in chairs facing
the presiding officer, was talking loudly and swiftly and incessantly.
None paid the slightest heed to the frantic appeal of the gavel....
Then, at last, the harassed bride reached the limit of endurance. She
threw the gavel from her angrily, and cried out shrilly above the massed
clamor of the other voices:
"If you don't stop," she declared vehemently, "I'll never speak to one
of you again!"
That wail of protest was not without its effect. There came a chorus of
ejaculations; but the monologues had been efficiently interrupted, and
the attention of the garrulous twelve was finally given to the presiding
officer. For a moment, silence fell. It was broken by Ruth Howard, a
girl with large, soulful brown eyes and a manner of rapt earnestness,
who uttered her plaint in a tone of exceeding bitterness:
"And we came together in love!"
At that, Cicily Hamilton forgot her petulance over the tumult, and
smiled with the sweetness that was characteristic of her.
"Really, you know," she confessed, almost contritely, "I don't like to
lecture you in my own house; but we came together for a serious
purpose, and you are just as rude as if you'd merely come to tea."
One of the women in the front row of chairs uttered a crisp cry of
approval. This was Mrs. Flynn, a visiting militant suffragette from
England. Her aggressive manner and the eager expression of her narrow
face with the gleaming black eyes declared that this woman of forty was
by nature a fighter who delighted in the fray.
"Yes; Mrs. Hamilton is right," was her caustic comment. "We are
forgetting our great work--the emancipation of woman!"
Cicily beamed approval on the speaker; but she inverted the other's
phrase:
"Yes," she agreed, "our great work--the subjugation of man!"
The statement was not, however, allowed to go unchallenged. Helen
Johnson, who was well along in the twenties at least, and still a
spinster, prided herself on her powers of conquest, despite the fact
that she had no husband to show for it. So, now, she spoke with an air
of languid superiority:
"Oh, we've already accomplished the subjugation of man," she drawled,
and smiled complacently.
"Some of us have," Cicily retorted; and the accent on the first word
pointed the allusion.
"Oh, hush, dear!" The chiding whisper came from Mrs. Delancy, a
gray-haired woman of sixty-five, somewhat inclined to stoutness and
having a handsome, kindly face. She was the aunt of Cicily, and had
reared the motherless girl in her New York home. Now, on a visit to her
niece, the bride of a year, she found herself inevitably involved in the
somewhat turbulent session of the Civitas Club, with which as yet she
enjoyed no great amount of sympathy. Her position in the chair nearest
the presiding officer gave her opportunity to voice the rebuke without
being overheard by anyone save the militant Mrs. Flynn, who smiled
covertly.
Cicily bent forward, and spoke softly to her aunt's ear:
"I just had to say it, auntie," she avowed happily. "You know, she tried
her hardest to catch Charles."
Mrs. Morton, a middle-aged society woman, who displayed sporadic
interest in the cause of woman during the dull season, now rose from the
chair immediately behind Mrs. Flynn, and spoke with a tone of great
decisiveness:
"Yes, ladies of the Civitas Club, Mrs. Flynn is perfectly right." She
indicated the identity of the militant suffragette, who was a stranger
to most of those in the company, by a sweeping gesture. "It is our duty
to follow firmly on the path which our sister has indicated toward the
emancipation of woman. We should get the club started at once, and the
work done immediately. Lent will be over soon, and then there will be no
time for it."
"Yes, indeed," Cicily agreed enthusiastically, as Mrs. Morton again
subsided into her chair; "let's get the club going right away." The
presiding officer hesitated for a moment, fumbling among the papers on
the table. "What's the name--? Oh, here it is!" she concluded, lifting a
sheet from the litter before her. "Listen! It's the Civitas Society for
the Uplift of Woman and for Encouraging the Spread of Social Equality
among the Masses."
As this gratifyingly sonorous designation was enunciated by Cicily in
her most impressive voice, the members of the club straightened in their
places with obvious pride, and there was a burst of hand-clapping. Ruth
Howard's great eyes rolled delightedly.
"Oh," she gushed, "isn't it a darling duck of a name! Let's see--the
Vivitas Society for--for--what is it for, anyhow?"
Cicily came to the rescue of the forgetful zealot.
"It's for the purpose of bringing men and women closer together," she
explained with dignity.
Miss Johnson gushed approval with her usual air of coquettish
superiority.
"Oh, read it again, Cicily," she urged. "It's so inspiring!"
"Yes, do read it again," a number of enthusiasts cried in chorus.
The presiding officer was on the point of complying with the demand for
a repetition of the sonorous nomenclature:
"The Civitas Society for--" she began, with stately emphasis. But she
broke off abruptly, under the impulse of a change in mood. "Oh, what's
the use?" she questioned flippantly. "You'll all get copies of it in
full in your mail to-morrow morning." Mightily pleased with this
labor-saving expedient, Cicily beamed on her fellow club-members. "What
next?" she inquired, amiably.
Mrs. Carrington rose to her feet, and addressed the assembly with that
dignity befitting one deeply experienced in parliamentary exercises.
"Having voted on the name," she remarked ponderously, evidently
undisturbed by the exceedingly informal nature of the voting, if such it
could be called, "I think it is now time for us to start the society."
She stared condescendingly through her lorgnette at the duly impressed
company, and sank back into her chair.
There were many exclamations of assent to Mrs. Carrington's timely
proposal, and much nodding of heads. Plainly, the ladies were minded to
start the society forthwith. Unhappily, however, there remained an
obstacle to the accomplishment of that desirable end--a somewhat general
ignorance as to the proper method of procedure. Ruth Howard turned the
gaze of her large brown eyes wistfully on Mrs. Carrington, and voiced
the dilemma by a question:
"How do we start?" she asked, in a tone of gentle wonder.
Before Mrs. Carrington could formulate a reply to this pertinent
interrogation, the militant suffragette from England began an oration.
"The start of a great movement such as is this," Mrs. Flynn declaimed,
"is like unto the start of a great race, or the start of a noble sport;
it is like--"
Cicily was so enthusiastic over this explanation that she interrupted
the speaker in order to demonstrate the fact that she understood the
matter perfectly.
"You mean," she exclaimed joyously, "that you blow a whistle, or shoot a
pistol!"
This appalling ignorance of parliamentary tactics induced some of the
more learned to ill-concealed titters; Miss Johnson permitted herself to
laugh in a gurgling note that she affected. But it was Mrs. Carrington
who took it on herself to utter a veiled rebuke.
"I fear Mrs. Hamilton has not been a member of many clubs," she
remarked, icily.
At Miss Johnson's open flouting, Cicily had flushed painfully. Now,
however, she was ready with a retort to Mrs. Carrington's implied
criticism:
"Oh, on the contrary!" she exclaimed. "Why, I was chief rooter of the Pi
Iota Gammas, when I went to boarding-school at Briarcliff."
Miss Johnson spoke with dangerous suavity of manner:
"Then, my dear, since you were one of the Pigs--pardon my using the
English of it, but I never could pronounce those Greek letters--"
"Of course not," Cicily interrupted, with her sweetest smile. "I
remember, Helen, dear: you had no chance to practise, not having
belonged at Briarcliff."
Kindly Mrs. Delancy was on nettles during the passage of the gently
spoken, but none the less acrimonious, remarks between her niece and
Miss Johnson. She was well aware of Cicily's deep-seated aversion for
the coquettish older woman, who had not scrupled to employ all her arts
to win away another's lover. That she had failed utterly in her efforts
to make an impression on the heart of Charles Hamilton did not mitigate
the offense in the estimation of the bride. So strong was Cicily's
feeling, indeed, and so impulsive her temperament, that the aunt was
really alarmed for fear of an open rupture between the two young women,
for Helen Johnson had a venomous tongue, and a liking for its
employment. So, now, Mrs. Delancy hastened to break off a conversation
that threatened disaster.
"Let us select the officers, the first thing," she suggested, rising for
the sake of effectiveness in securing attention to herself. "It is, I
believe, usual in clubs to have officers, and, for that reason, it seems
to me that it would be well to select officers for this club, here and
now." Mrs. Delancy reseated herself, well satisfied with her effort, for
there was a general buzz of interest among her auditors.
Cicily, with the lively change of moods that was distinctive of her, was
instantly smiling again, but now with sincerity. Without a moment of
hesitation, she accepted the suggestion, and acted upon it. She turned
toward Mrs. Carrington, and addressed her words to that dignified
person:
"Yes, indeed," she declared gladly, "I accept the suggestion.... Won't
you be president, Mrs. Carrington?"
The important lady was obviously delighted by this suggestion. She
smiled radiantly, and she fairly preened herself so that the spangles on
her black gown shone proudly.
"Thank you, my dear Mrs. Hamilton," she replied tenderly, with a
pretense of humility that failed completely. "But I believe there are
certain formalities that are ordinarily observed--I believe that it is a
matter of selection by the club as a whole. Of course, if--" She paused
expectantly, and regarded those about her with a smile that was weighted
with suggestion.
Cicily was somewhat perturbed by the error into which she had fallen. It
occurred to her that Helen Johnson might here find another opportunity
for the gratification of malice. A glance showed that this detestable
young woman was in fact exchanging pitying glances with Mrs. Flynn.
Cicily was flushed with chagrin, as she spoke falteringly, with an
apologetic inflection:
"Oh, the president has to be elected? I beg your pardon! I thought it
was like the army, and--went by age."
At this unfortunate explanation, the simper of gratified vanity on Mrs.
Carrington's features vanished as if by magic. She stiffened visibly, as
she acridly ejaculated a single word:
"Really!" The inflection was scathing.
Mrs. Flynn, who was smiling complacently over the evident confusion of
Cicily, now stood up to instruct that unhappy presiding officer:
"No, indeed, Mrs. Hamilton," she announced with great earnestness, "for
the most part, it is the young women, even young wives no older than
yourself oftentimes, who are at the front, fighting gloriously the
battle of all women in this great movement.... At least, that is the way
in England." She paused and bridled as she surveyed the attentive
company, her manner full of self-content. "There, I may say, the
youngest and the most beautiful women have been the leaders in the fray.
Ahem!"
Cicily did not hesitate to remove all ambiguity from the utterance of
the militant suffragette with the sallow, narrow face.
"And you were a great leader, were you not, Mrs. Flynn?" she demanded,
bluntly.
There were covert smiles from the other women; but the Englishwoman was
frankly gratified by the implication. She was smiling with pleasure as
she answered:
"I may say truthfully that I know the inside of almost every
police-station in London."
At this startling announcement, uttered with every appearance of pride,
the suffragette's hearers displayed their amazement by exclamations and
gestures. Mrs. Carrington especially made manifest the fact that she had
scant patience with this manner of martyrdom in the cause of woman's
emancipation.
"My dear Mrs. Flynn," she said, with a hint of contempt in her voice,
"here in America, we do not think that getting into jail is necessarily
a cause for pride." There were murmurs of assent from most of the
others; but Mrs. Flynn herself was in no wise daunted.
"Well, then, it should be," she retorted, briskly. "Zeal is the
watchword!"
"I think that Mrs. Flynn should be president," Miss Johnson cried with
sudden enthusiasm. "She has suffered in the cause!"
"Oh, for that matter," interjected Mrs. Morton flippantly, "most of us
are married." It was known to all those whom she addressed, save perhaps
the Englishwoman, that at the age of forty Mrs. Morton had undergone two
divorces, and that she was now living wretchedly with a third husband,
so she spoke with the authority of one having had sufficient experience.
But Mrs. Flynn was too much interested in her own harrowing experiences
to be diverted by cynical raillery.
"The last time I went to jail," she related, "I had chained myself to
the gallery in the House of Commons, and, when they tried to release me,
I bit a policeman--hard!"
"Oh, you man-eater!" It was Cicily who uttered the exclamation,
half-reproachfully, half-banteringly.
"I fail to see why, if one should prefer even Chicago roast beef to an
Irish policeman, that should be held against one." This was Mrs.
Carrington's indignant comment on the narrative of the mordant martyr.
The remark affected Mrs. Flynn, however, in a fashion totally
unexpected. She cried out in genuine horror and disgust over the
suggested idea.
"Good heavens! Do you imagine I would ever bite an Irish policeman?"
"If not," Mrs. Carrington rejoined slyly, "you will have very small
opportunity in New York for the exercise of your very peculiar talents."
Cicily interposed a remark concerning the appetizing charms of some of
the mounted policemen. It seemed to her that the conversation between
the two older women had reached a point where interruption were the
course of prudence. "I think we had better do some more business, now,"
she added hastily, with an appealing glance toward her aunt.
Mrs. Delancy rose to the emergency on the instant.
"By all means," she urged. "Let us get on with the business. We haven't
been going ahead very fast, it seems to me. Why not elect the officers
right away?"
Once again, the entire company became agog with interest over the
project of securing duly authorized officials. There were murmured
conversations, confidential whisperings. As Ruth Howard earnestly
declared, it was so exciting--a real election. A stealthy canvas of
candidates was in full swing. The names of Mrs. Flynn and of Mrs.
Carrington were heard oftenest. Incidentally, certain sentences threw
light on individual methods of determining executive merit. A prim
spinster shook her head violently over some suggestion from the woman
beside her. "No, my dear," she replied aggressively, "I certainly shall
not vote for her--vote for a woman who wears a transformation? No,
indeed!"... Cicily improved the interval of general bustle to inquire
secretly of her aunt as to the possible shininess of her nose. "It
always gets shiny when I get excited," she explained, ruefully. As a
matter of fact, there was nothing whatever the matter with that dainty
feature, which had a fascination all its own by reason of the fact that
one was forever wondering whether it was classically straight or
up-tilted just the least infinitesimal fraction.
It was Mrs. Morton who first took energetic action toward an election.
She stood up, and spoke with a tone of finality:
"I think that dear Mrs. Carrington would make a splendid officer. I
nominate dear Mrs. Carrington for our president."
"Did you hear that, Mrs. Carrington?" Cicily inquired, with a pleased
smile for the one thus honored. "You're nominated."
"Oh, it's so thrilling!" Ruth Howard exclaimed, with irrepressible
enthusiasm.
But Miss Johnson, to whom Ruth particularly addressed herself, had on
occasion been unmercifully snubbed by Mrs. Carrington. In consequence,
now, she showed no sign of sympathy with her companion's emotion. On the
contrary, she sniffed indignantly, and muttered something about "that
woman!"
Meantime, Mrs. Morton was waxing restless over the fact that things
remained at a standstill, despite the nomination she had made. She rose
to her feet, and surveyed the company with a glance eloquent of haughty
surprise.
"I am waiting for a second to my motion," she remarked, icily. Then, as
there was no audible response to this information, she added with rising
indignation: "Well, really!" There was a wealth of contemptuous reproach
in the tone.
The effect on the susceptible Cicily was instantaneous. With her
customary impulsiveness, and her eagerness to do the right thing for any
and all persons, she felt that she herself had been woefully remiss in
not having hurried to Mrs. Morton's support at once. So, to make amends,
she spoke with vivacity:
"Oh, I second it!... Mrs. Carrington," she continued, turning to the
gratified candidate, "you're seconded." She was rewarded for her conduct
by a stately bow of thanks from Mrs. Morton. Half a dozen others,
taking their cue from the presiding officer, noisily cried out in
seconding the candidacy of Mrs. Carrington, whereat Mrs. Morton grew
flushed with pleasure, and was moved to consummate the affair without a
moment's delay.
"I move that the election of Mrs. Carrington as president be now made,
and also that the election be made unanimous," she demanded, with much
unction in her voice. She smiled persuasively at the presiding officer
as she concluded: "Won't you put that motion, my dear?"
Cicily rose to the occasion with an access of becoming dignity.
"It is moved and seconded," she announced loudly, "that Mrs. Carrington
be elected president of this club. All in favor of this motion--"
"One moment, please," Miss Johnson interrupted, excitedly. "Madam
Chairman, I move that Mrs. Flynn, the great, the tried, the proven, the
trusted crusader in the cause of women, from England, be elected
president, and that her election be made unanimous." She paused to turn
to Ruth, whom she addressed in a fierce whisper: "If you don't second
me, I'll never speak to you again."
"Oh, I second you," Ruth cried, anxiously. "Of course, I second you."
But, by this time, Cicily had come to a realization of the fact that the
other women present were every whit as ignorant of parliamentary law as
was she herself. So, in this emergency, she did not scruple to make
audacious retort. She answered with exceeding blandness:
"But, you see, Miss Johnson, there's already a motion before the house."
Thereupon, Mrs. Morton hastened valiantly to her own support.
"Yes, indeed," she declared, haughtily; "my motion was first. I must
insist that it be voted upon. If Miss Johnson wished to have an imported
English president for our American society, she should have nominated
Mrs. Flynn first." She made direct appeal to the presiding officer. "Am
I not right, dear?"
Cicily beamed on Mrs. Morton, and was about to reply, when a sudden
thought came to her that did greater credit to her ingenuity than to her
executive knowledge. Forthwith, she beamed, somewhat hypocritically, on
Miss Johnson in turn.
"Yes, certainly," she affirmed; "I'm sure you're both quite right."
"Thank you, Madam Chairman, for agreeing with me," Miss Johnson replied,
placated by Cicily's unexpected amiability toward her. "My motion also
is before the house, and I insist that it be voted on. Mrs. Flynn has
been seconded."
There was a spirit of hostility in the manner with which Miss Johnson
and Mrs. Morton faced each other that boded ill for peace. The rival
candidates sat in rigid erectness, disdainfully aloof while their
supporters wrangled. The whisperings of the others suggested a growing
acrimoniousness of debate. That earnest maiden, Ruth, was alarmed by the
tension of strife.
"I think I'd rather go," she faltered. "I'm afraid you're going to
quarrel, Helen."
But the resources of Cicily's inspiration were by no means ended. She
waved a conciliatory hand toward the adversaries, and spoke with an air
of finality that produced an instantaneous effect as of oil on troubled
waters.
"I'll tell you: I'll put one motion, and the other can be an amendment."
At this profound suggestion, the whole company breathed a sigh of
relief. Only Ruth appeared somewhat puzzled.
"What's an amendment?" she questioned frankly, while the others regarded
her with evident scorn for such ignorance.
"An amendment, Ruth," the presiding officer explained patiently,
"is--is--oh, just listen, and don't interrupt the proceedings, and
you'll know all about it in a few minutes." She beamed once again, first
on Mrs. Morton and then on Miss Johnson. "Which of you would rather be
the amendment?" she inquired.
Mrs. Morton, as became her years, was first to make reply.
"It's entirely immaterial to me, just so my motion is put."
Miss Johnson adopted a manner that was not without signs of heroic
self-sacrifice.
"I'll be the amendment," were her words. With that, she bowed very
formally to Mrs. Morton, who returned the salute with a fine dignity,
after which the two at last subsided into their chairs.
Cicily was elated with the subtle manner in which she had evolved order
out of chaos. Her eyes glowed with pride, and the flush in her cheeks
deepened. There was an added music in her voice, as she once more
addressed the company.
"Splendid!" she ejaculated. "Now, all in favor of Mrs. Motion's
morton--I mean Mrs. Morton's motion, please say ay!"
In a clear, ringing voice she led the chorus in the affirmative. Yes,
every woman present, including the presiding officer, voted an
enthusiastic ay, whereupon Cicily declared the motion carried; and Mrs.
Morton rose and said: "Thank you, ladies." Next, Mrs. Carrington stood
up, placed a hand on her heart, and expressed her appreciation of the
honor done her: "I deeply thank you, ladies." The incident was fittingly
concluded by an outburst of applause in which all the club joined,
although Ruth beat her palms in rather a bewildered manner.... Cicily
immediately entered on the new phase of the situation.
"Now, all in favor of Miss Johnson's amendment, please say ay," she
directed. Again, she led the chorus in the affirmative, and the entire
company joined in the vote without a dissenting voice. "Amendment
carried," the presiding officer announced, gleefully. It was now the
turn of Miss Johnson to rise and offer her thanks, and Mrs. Flynn
followed, saying, very neatly: "From over the sea, I thank you." The
usual applause was of the heartiest.... But Cicily was still energetic.
"Now, all in favor of the motion and of the amendment, please say ay,"
she requested. For the third time, she led the chorus, and the vote was
unopposedly affirmative. "The motion and the amendment are carried
unanimously," Cicily announced, and the hand clapping sounded a happy
content on the part of the Civitas Club.
Afterward, came a little intermission of conversation in which was
expressed much appreciation of the efficiency of the club in carrying on
its session. "It all goes to show how businesslike women can be," Mrs.
Carrington remarked, triumphantly. Mrs. Flynn was even more emphatic.
"I've never seen a meeting more gloriously typical of our great cause."
The tribute was welcomed with a buzz of assent.... But, finally, there
came a lull in the talking. It was broken by Mrs. Delancy, who spoke
thoughtlessly out of a confused mind, with no suspicion as to the
sinister effect to be wrought by her words:
"Who's elected?" was her simple question.
There was a moment of amazed silence, in which the members of the club
stared at one another with widened eyes. It was broken very speedily,
however, by Mrs. Carrington, who rose to her feet with more activity of
movement than was customary to her dignified bearing.
"I have the honor," she stated, sharply.
Instantly, Mrs. Flynn, the militant suffragette, was up, her face
belligerent.
"Pardon me, but the honor belongs to me," she snapped, regarding the
first claimant with a fierce indignation that was returned in kind. Most
of the others were too confounded for speech, but Mrs. Morton rose to
support her candidate's claims.
"Pray pardon me," she began placatingly, "but probably Mrs. Flynn does
not understand. The interpretation of parliamentary law in England may
be quite different. Probably, it is. The customs of that country vary
widely from ours in many respects. So, they probably do in the matter of
elections in clubs. Now, I belong to ten clubs--American clubs--and I
assure you that, according to the parliamentary law in every one of
those ten clubs, Mrs. Carrington is certainly elected."
This advocacy was, naturally, a challenge to Miss Johnson, who promptly
rose up to champion her own candidate.
"Mrs. Carrington, I am sure, has no desire to take advantage of a
distinguished stranger within our gates--and one who has served as
gloriously in the cause as Mrs. Flynn--but, even if someone--" she
regarded Mrs. Morton with great significance--"I say, even if someone
should wish to take unfair advantage of a technicality, it would be
altogether impossible, for my amendment to the original motion was
carried--unanimously! Mrs. Flynn is the president of the club, duly
elected."
Some hazy notion of parliamentary procedure moved Mrs. Flynn to a
suggestion.
"I think the matter might best be settled by the chair," she said,
doubtfully. "The chair put the motion. Let us then leave the decision to
Madam Chairman." Mrs. Carrington nodded a stately agreement to the
proposal, and the company as a whole appeared vastly relieved, with the
exceptions of Miss Johnson, who sniffed defiantly, and of Ruth, who
appeared more than ever bewildered by the succession of events.
Now, at last, Cicily felt herself baffled by the crisis of her own
making. She looked from one to another with reproach in her amber eyes.
"But--but you cannot expect me to decide between my guests," she
espostulated. There was appeal for relief in the pathetic droop of the
scarlet lips of the bride, but it was of no avail. The company asserted
with vehemence that she must render the decision in this unfortunate
dilemma.... And, again, the angel of inspiration whispered a solution of
the difficulty. Impulsive as ever, a radiant smile curved her mouth, and
her eyes shone happily.
"Very well," she yielded. "Since you insist on putting your hostess in
such an unfortunate position, I decide that it is up to the ladies
themselves. Which one wishes to take the office, to force herself
forward against the wishes of the other?" She cast a seemingly guileless
glance of inquiry first on Mrs. Carrington, then on Mrs. Flynn, who
simultaneously uttered exclamations of indignation at the imputation
thus laid upon them.
Mrs. Carrington was quick to make explicit answer.
"If the ladies of the club do not desire me to be president, I must
decline to accept the office, in spite of a unanimous vote. If,
however--" She broke off to stare accusingly at her rival, then about
the room in search of encouragement for her claims.
[Illustration]
Mrs. Flynn took advantage of the opportunity for speech in her own
behalf.
"Naturally, as a stranger, I hesitate to force myself forward, even
though my record is such that it is hard to see how any opposition could
possibly develop against me. However--"
"Of course, Mrs. Carrington is elected," Mrs. Morton interrupted.
At the same time, Miss Johnson urged aggressiveness on her candidate.
"Don't back down," she implored. "Remember the policeman!"
Mrs. Carrington muttered maliciously, as she caught the words.
"In view of Mrs. Flynn's record," she began, "I scarcely feel
justified--" Her mock humility was copied by Mrs. Flynn on the instant.
"As a stranger, I cannot force myself--"
The presiding officer decided that this was in truth the psychological
moment in which to dominate the situation.
"Indeed, the chair appreciates the rare quality of your self-denial,"
she announced in an authoritative voice that commanded the respectful
attention of all. "Now, ladies," she continued with an air of grave
rebuke, "you see what comes of putting your hostess in such an
unfortunate position as compelling her to force on one of her guests
something she doesn't want. Mrs. Carrington and Mrs. Flynn, both, are my
friends and my guests as well, and I must certainly decline to embarrass
them further in this matter. The only thing I can do, since neither of
them is willing to take the presidency, is regretfully to accept it
myself. So, I will be president, and I do now so declare myself."
At this astounding decision, Mrs. Carrington and Mrs. Flynn sank down in
their chairs, too dumfounded to protest: but their distress, along with
the similar emotion of Mrs. Morton and Miss Johnson, was not observed by
the others in the general hubbub of enthusiasm aroused by the new
Solomon come to judgment. After an interval of tumultuous cheering,
there came demand for a speech by the newly fleeted president....
Cicily acceded, after due urging.
"I'm ever so much obliged to you," she declared, and kissed her hands
gracefully to her fellow club-members. Thereat, the applause was of the
briskest. "Really, I am," she made assurance, and wafted another kiss.
On this occasion, the applause was of even greater volume than ever
before, although four of those present did not join in the ovation to
the new chief executive. "Yes, really--truly!" Cicily went on, fluently.
"And I think this is a wonderful club we have started. We need a club.
It gives us--us married women--something to do. That's the real
answer--the real cause, I think, of the woman question. These men have
gone on inventing vacuum cleaners and gas-stoves and apartment hotels
and servants that know more than we do. They haven't treated us fairly.
They've taken away all our occupation, and now we've got to retaliate.
We can't keep house for them any more, and, if we--if we care anything
about them, or want to help them, we've got to go into business, or to
help them vote.... Well, they brought it on themselves. They've got too
proud. They used to be dependent on us: now, we're dependent on them,
on their inventions and their servants. So, we're going to show them.
We'll make them dependent on us in the wider outside world, just as they
used to be dependent on us in the home. They've hurt our pride, and
we're going to make them pay. They say we are nervous and reckless and
always on the go.... It's their fault: they've made the new woman, and
now we are going to make the new man. They put us out of work, and made
us so, and now they're going to be sorry.... The time is fast coming
when each of us will have at least three or four men--"
It was Miss Johnson who caused the interruption to this burst of
eloquence.
"Why, that's positively immoral!" gasped the outraged spinster.
"--at least three or four men dependent upon her," concluded the
unabashed president of the Civitas Club, as she cast a withering look on
her enemy, who quailed visibly. "And I think that's all," Cicily added,
contentedly. She felt that she could with justice claim to have
conducted herself nobly throughout a critical situation.
"I move that we adjourn," said Mrs. Flynn, energetically. Her vigorous
temperament would permit no longer sulking in silence despite the
humiliation to which she had so recently been subjected.
Mrs. Carrington, however, had not yet rejected all hope of office.
"We must first select a secretary," she suggested.
This was opposed by Miss Johnson, always persistently moved to discredit
the older woman who had snubbed her socially.
"Why not select a professional stenographer as a member of the club;
then make her secretary? Any number of young working women would
doubtless be glad of the honor." This brought an outcry against the
admission of any professional working woman into the exclusive Civitas.
"Oh, remember that we have ideals!" Ruth Howard remonstrated, with
sincere, if vague, adherence to her ideals; and she up-turned her great
eyes toward the ceiling.
Mrs. Flynn, curiously enough, was opposed to the idealist in this
instance.
"Yes," she said, "I fear that it's quite true. The professional working
woman thinks more of her salary and a comfortable living than of our
great cause."
Cicily herself disposed of the matter with a blithesome nonchalance that
was beautiful to behold.
"Oh, don't bother," was her way of cutting the Gordian knot. "I'll make
my husband's stenographer do the work."
"I move that we adjourn," the militant suffragette repeated in a most
businesslike manner.
Mrs. Carrington was determined that her rival should not outdistance her
at the finish. She spoke with her most forcible dignity:
"I second the motion."
The motion was put and carried.... Thus ended the first session of that
epoch-marking organization: The Civitas Society for the Uplift of Woman
and for Encouraging the Spread of Social Equality among the Masses.