THE STURDY OAK 
 
 f J I I 
 
 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 
 
COPYRIGHT, 1917 
 
 BY 
 P. F. COLLIER & SON 
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1917 
 
 BY 
 HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY 
 
 Published November, 1917 
 
 THE QUINN 4 BOOEN CO. PRESS 
 RAHWAY, N. J. 
 
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 pos 
 sible. 
 
 Every author represented, every worker on the 
 team, has gratuitously contributed his or her services ; 
 and every dollar realized by the serial and book pub 
 lication 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 per 
 spiration from our brows, we urge every one to buy 
 this book! 
 
 ELIZABETH JORDAN. 
 NEW YORK, 
 November, 1917. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I BY SAMUEL MERWIN .... i 
 
 II BY HARRY LEON WILSON ... 27 
 
 III BY FANNIE HURST . " . . . 51 
 
 IV BY DOROTHY CANFIELD ... 71 
 
 V BY KATHLEEN NORRIS < ... 92 
 
 VI BY HENRY KITCHELL WEBSTER . 116 
 
 VII BY ANNE O HAGAN .... 143 
 
 VIII BY MARY HEATON VORSE . . . 168 
 
 IX BY ALICE DUER MILLER . . .185 
 
 X BY ETHEL WATTS MUMFORD . . 203 
 
 XI BY MARJORIE BENTON COOK . . 235 
 
 XII BY WILLIAM ALLEN WHITE . . 261 
 
 XIII BY MARY AUSTIN X .... 286 
 
 XIV BY LEROY SCOTT 312 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 " Nobody ever means that a woman really can t 
 get along without a man s protection, because 
 look at the women who do " . . Frontispiece 
 
 It was hard on the darling old boy to come home 
 to Miss Emelene and the cat and Eleanor and 
 Alys every night ! 104 
 
 " You mean because she s a suffragist ? You sent 
 her away for that! Why, really, that s 
 tyranny!" 174 
 
 Across the way, Mrs. Herrington, the fighting 
 blood of five generations of patriots roused in 
 her, had reinstated the Voiceless Speech . .314 
 
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 At 
 torney. 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 profes 
 sion, 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 des 
 tined prey. 
 
 Cousin Emelene. . . . On Genevieve s side. 
 tween thirty-five and forty, a born spinster but cring 
 ing to the hope of marriage as the only career for 
 women. Has a small and decreasing income. Af 
 fectedly feminine and genuinely incompetent. 
 
 ix 
 
x PRINCIPAL CHARACTERS 
 
 Mrs. Harvey Herrington. ... President of the 
 Woman s Club, the Municipal League, Suffrage bo- 
 ciety leader, wealthy, cultured and possessing a sense 
 of humor. 
 
 Percival Pauncefoot Sheridan. . . . Betty s brother, 
 fifteen, commonly called Pudge. Pink, pudgy, sensi 
 tive; 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 m 
 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 beauti 
 ful. 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 Hamil- 
 
THE STURDY OAK 
 
 ton City Tribune; and Mrs. Brewster-Smith re 
 ported 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 mis 
 tress 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 
 
THE STURDY OAK 3 
 
 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 them 
 selves 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, 
 
4 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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! 
 
THE STURDY OAK 5 
 
 She decided that it would be best not to talk about 
 George. Not one word about George! Her feel 
 ings 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, every 
 thing 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 be 
 gan 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 wonder 
 fully you have managed to give the old place your 
 own tone ! " 
 
6 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 " Nothing has been changed," murmured Gene- 
 vieve, a thought bewildered. 
 
 " Nothing, my dear, but yourself ! I am so look 
 ing 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 
 
THE STURDY OAK 7 
 
 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 con 
 solation that they won t find him there. " 
 
 " He isn t going to the office today," said Gene- 
 vieve. " 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 be 
 ginning of his campaign. Those vulgar women are 
 going to hound him. They ve begun already. As 
 
8 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 our committee wrote him last week, it is vitally 
 important that he should declare himself unequivo 
 cally 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 ad 
 miration 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 them 
 selves." 
 
 " 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 
 
THE STURDY OAK 9 
 
 let you run away like this, Mr. Jaff ry. Do sit down 
 and tell us about the work you are doing at the 
 Country Club. Is it to be bowling alley and swim 
 ming 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 anybody, eh ? " 
 
 " Yes, Uncle Martin. It s a very important state 
 ment 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. 
 
io THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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 im 
 mense 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 after 
 noon 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 
 
THE STURDY OAK 11 
 
 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 
 
12 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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 sun 
 daes 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 sun 
 daes, 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 fore 
 finger, felt this pause and knew that Billy s grin had 
 
THE STURDY OAK 13 
 
 gone; and his own mouth drooped and drooped. 
 It was a tense moment. 
 
 " You see, Pudge," Billy began in some embar 
 rassment, 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. Every 
 body 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 mov 
 ing when Penny Evans (christened Penfield) came 
 back from lunch. He wore an air Betty Sheridan 
 noted, from her typewriter desk within the rail 
 
H THE STURDY OAK 
 
 of determination. His nod toward herself was dis 
 tinctly 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 any 
 body; 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 com 
 posure, 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 , 
 
THE STURDY OAK 15 
 
 Betty seated herself opposite him, and was in 
 stantly 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." 
 
16 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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 break 
 ing 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 youVe 
 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 
 
THE STURDY OAK 17 
 
 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 my 
 self and prouder of it than " 
 
 " But that s absurd, Betty for you to be work 
 ing as a stenographer, of all things ! A girl with 
 
18 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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 independ 
 ence 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." 
 
THE STURDY OAK 19 
 
 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. Tempo 
 rarily 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 quiz 
 zical smile, to the composed young woman who 
 stood within the railing. 
 
 "Anybody here, Betty ?" 
 
 A slight movement of her prettily poised head in 
 dicated the door marked " Mr. Evans." And she 
 said, " Penny s there." 
 
 " Is he shut up, too ? His partner is too impor 
 tant 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. 
 
20 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 " Mrs. Harvey Herrington been in ? " 
 
 " Twice with a committee." 
 
 " Any idea what she wanted ? " 
 
 Betty was aware that the whimsical and round 
 about 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. 
 
THE STURDY OAK 21 
 
 Think better on my feet. I m in a bit of a quan 
 dary. 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 com 
 mittee 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 
 
22 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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 pen 
 ciled a note, which he sealed. Then he scribbled 
 another to Mrs. George Remington, asking her 
 to hand George the inclosure the moment he ap 
 peared 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, pro 
 duced 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 STURDY OAK 23 
 
 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, 
 
24 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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 
 
THE STURDY OAK 25 
 
 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 him 
 self a defender of the home, of the right. 
 
 At midnight, the last guest departed. George 
 and Genevieve stepped out into the summer moon 
 light 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 leav- 
 
26 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 ing 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 prom 
 ised 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 help 
 ing. 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 con 
 front all issues with a rugged valiance susceptible 
 of no misconstruction; that, in short, George Rem 
 ington 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-step 
 ping." 
 
 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 
 
 27 
 
28 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 come. Meantime the speaker boldly defies the 
 world to show a man holding woman in loftier re 
 gard 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 inward 
 ness of which, thanks to the venal activities of a 
 corrupt opposition, even an exclusively male con 
 stituency 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. 
 
THE STURDY OAK 29 
 
 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 re 
 volted all her finer instincts; he saw her insulted at 
 polling booths; saw her voting in company with 
 
30 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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 
 & . i 
 
 ought to vote? 
 r 
 
 And should not other critics known to us have 
 
 divined the racking anguish under which George 
 
THE STURDY OAK 31 
 
 had labored? For one, should not Elizabeth 
 Sheridan, amateur spinster, have been all sympathy 
 for one who was palpably more an alarmed bride 
 groom 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 humor 
 ous 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. 
 
32 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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 buoy 
 antly 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. 
 
THE STURDY OAK 33 
 
 " 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 
 i 
 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." 
 
 r 
 
 " 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." 
 
34 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 " Quixotic ! That s how it reads to me." 
 7 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 to 
 morrow instead of its having come off five weeks 
 ago," pursued Uncle Martin bitterly. 
 
THE STURDY OAK 35 
 
 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 under 
 stand 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. 
 
36 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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 
 
THE STURDY OAK 37 
 
 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 com 
 mitting himself so rabidly?" 
 
 "Who were the three?" queried Mr. Evans. 
 
 "Oh, poor Genevieve, of course; she goes with- 
 
38 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 out 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 be 
 lieve 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," 
 
THE STURDY OAK 39 
 
 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 de 
 ceived. The sheet had been drawn into the ma- 
 
40 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 chine 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 inter 
 ruption. 
 
 " 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 
 
THE STURDY OAK 41 
 
 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. 
 
42 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 " Of course I do, Betty. The idea of a candi 
 date 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 yes 
 terday. 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 mo 
 ment of impending triumph. 
 
 "Wasn t it the awfullest rot?" demanded the 
 spinster, pounding out a row of periods for em 
 phasis. 
 
 " And he s got to be made to eat his words," 
 said Mr. Evans, wisely taking the same by-path 
 
THE STURDY OAK 43 
 
 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 couldand if I do? " His in 
 tention was too pointed to be ignored. 
 
 " Oh, that! " He winced at the belittling " that." 
 " Of course I couldn t promise anyway I don t be 
 lieve 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. 
 
44 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 " 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 de 
 manded. 
 
 " Wiles, tricks, stratagems," replied the rising 
 young diplomat moodily, smarting under the mo 
 ment s defeat. 
 
 " Serve him right for pulling all that old-fash 
 ioned 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. 
 
THE STURDY OAK 45 
 
 " Oh, oh, oh ! " This was low, tense, thrilling. 
 It expressed horror. " So that s what your convic 
 tions 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 ven 
 tured 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. 
 
46 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 " 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 accus 
 ing 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 ap 
 pearing to be engaged in deep thought. 
 
 Miss Sheridan, apparently for mere exclamatory 
 purposes, now reread the fulmination of the absent 
 
THE STURDY OAK 47 
 
 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. 
 
48 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 Evans, suffering the throes of a mighty inspiration, 
 suddenly found it sweetest music. 
 
 When Miss Sheridan subsided, Mr. Evans ap 
 peared 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 him 
 self at his desk, then emerged to dictate three busi 
 ness 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 for 
 mally announced that he should be absent from the 
 office for perhaps an hour. 
 
THE STURDY OAK 49 
 
 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 ! Hon 
 estly, I didn t believe you had it in you. You cov 
 ered 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 
 
50 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 she wrote, contrived with her trained shoulders to 
 exhibit to his lingering eye an overwhelming con 
 tempt 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 plat 
 form, 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 hus 
 band s small planks, and if need be, spread her 
 prettily flounced skirts over the rotting places, was 
 
 51 
 
52 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 memorizing, with more pride than understanding, 
 extracts from the controversial article for quota 
 tion at the Woman s Club meeting, Mr. Penfield 
 Evans, with a determination which considerably ex 
 panded 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. Gal 
 lup s front yard. 
 
 While Mr. Evans waited he regarded its cast- 
 iron flanks, but not seeingly. His rather the ex 
 pression 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 ad 
 joining 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, 
 
THE STURDY OAK 53 
 
 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 un- 
 hatted, clicked past on slim, trim heels, all radiated 
 by the reflection from a pink parasol, gay embroid 
 ery bag dangling. 
 
 "Hello, Lyd!" 
 
 "Hello, Pen!" 
 
 "What s your hurry?" 
 
 " It s my middle name." 
 
 " Why hurry, when the future is always wait 
 ing?" 
 
 " Why aren t you holding your partner s head 
 since he committed political suicide in the 
 Sentinel f " 
 
 " 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 re 
 flection of the parasol, " is bounded on the north 
 
54 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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, ex 
 clusive 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 smooth 
 ness and coloring shone out above her weeds. 
 
 In the shadow of her and at her life job of bring 
 ing up the rear, with a large Maltese cat padding 
 
THE STURDY OAK 55 
 
 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 be 
 cause of them. 
 
 "Well, Penny Evans!" 
 
 " None other, Mrs. Smith, than the villain him 
 self." 
 
 " 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, muv- 
 ver 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." 
 
56 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 " 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 cour 
 age 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 
 
THE STURDY OAK 57 
 
 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 White 
 water 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 
 
58 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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 
 
 " 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 bread 
 winners 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 
 
 "Yes, yes, Mrs. Smith, I understa " 
 
 " But as my cousin says in his article, which in 
 
THE STURDY OAK 59 
 
 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 
 
60 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 God, are still uppermost and try to convert us 
 . )> 
 
 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 con 
 vinced that if there is one platform more than an- 
 
THE STURDY OAK 61 
 
 other upon which George Remington deserves his 
 election it is on the brave and chivalrous prin 
 ciples he has so courageously come out with in the 
 current Sentinel. Whatever may have been be 
 tween Betty Sheridan and " 
 
 " Mr. Evans, you don t mean to tell me that you 
 and Betty Sheridan have quarreled! Such a de 
 sirable 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 mod 
 ern 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 
 
62 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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 prohibi 
 tion. 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 
 
THE STURDY OAK 63 
 
 turn to see that boy in office," Mrs. Smith inter 
 rupted. 
 
 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 
 
 "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?" 
 
64 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 " 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 un 
 certain 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 representa 
 tive antis of this town would more than anything 
 strengthen his theories into facts. As unattached 
 women, particularly as women of his own family, 
 
THE STURDY OAK 65 
 
 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 widen 
 ing. 
 
 " 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 
 
66 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 " 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 be 
 ginning to go right against me ! That sago pudding 
 
THE STURDY OAK 67 
 
 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 " 
 
68 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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, reach 
 ing 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 contro 
 versy 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 tug 
 ging at the door. 
 
 " I ll run around now and arrange to have your 
 trunks called for at five. My congratulations and 
 
THE STURDY OAK 69 
 
 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. Turn now, Hanna, 
 get washed and new ribbon to go by-by. Her go 
 
70 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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 Her- 
 rington 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 pen 
 nant Votes for Women stiffened out like a sema 
 phore against the breeze. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 BY DOROTHY CANFIELD 
 
 GENEVIEVE REMINGTON sat in her pretty draw 
 ing-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 psy 
 chical 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 
 
 7* 
 
72 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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 im 
 portant 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 
 
 
THE STURDY OAK 73 
 
 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 essen 
 tial Tightness 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. 
 
74 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 " 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 Gene- 
 vieve 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 for 
 ward, set down her suitcase and clasped her young 
 cousin in her arms. 
 
 " Oh Genevieve dear, that noble wonderful hus 
 band 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 inter 
 vals, and talking very fast. 
 
THE STURDY OAK 75 
 
 " 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 / had no home to be sanctified, 7 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. 
 
76 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 " Do you know, dear Genevieve, I had almost 
 
 A / 
 
 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 sup 
 port 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 
 
THE STURDY OAK 77 
 
 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 mahog 
 any 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 
 
78 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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 express 
 men coming down the stairs and said in so fierce 
 a voice that they shrank back visibly, " There s an 
 other trunk to take up to the room next to that. 
 And if you let it down with the bang you did this 
 
THE STURDY OAK 79 
 
 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 
 
80 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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 sup 
 pose 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 ex 
 pressmen came downstairs, still treading softly, 
 and went out. Genevieve was alone again in her 
 front hall. 
 
THE STURDY OAK 81 
 
 To her came tiptoeing Marie, with wide eyes of 
 query and alarm. And from Mane 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. Rem 
 ington! I don t know what to tell you, Marie, till 
 I have seen Mr. Remington! I must see my hus 
 band! 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 dis 
 organized 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 
 
82 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 first quarrel." The hypothesis would instantly have 
 been withdrawn if any one had continued looking 
 after the fleeing bride long enough to see her, re 
 gardless 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 mo 
 ments 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 
 
THE STURDY OAK 83 
 
 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 to 
 gether. 
 
 " 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. 
 
84 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 " 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. 
 
THE STURDY OAK 85 
 
 " 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? 
 
v/ 
 
 86 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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 per 
 fectly 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 be 
 gan! You are seeing Woman in her proper place, 
 the Home, ... if not her own Home, some- 
 
 i. 
 
 body 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. 
 
THE STURDY OAK 87 
 
 "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 im 
 passioned 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, col 
 lapsed against a lilac bush, shaking and convulsed, 
 
88 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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 ! " 
 
 fs/ 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 them 
 selves about trees for support when their legs gave 
 way under them. 
 
 " Did you see George s face when Eme- 
 lene let the cat eat out of her plate ! " cried 
 Betty. 
 
 " And did you see Genevieve s when Mrs. 
 
THE STURDY OAK 89 
 
 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, abomi 
 nable 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 ! 
 
go THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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 rev 
 erent fingers. 
 
THE STURDY OAK 91 
 
 " Betty," he said in a rather unsteady voice, " its 
 true, all that bally-rot about women being better 
 than men. You are I" 
 
 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 wreck 
 age, 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 
 
 92 
 
THE STURDY OAK 93 
 
 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. 
 
94- THE STURDY OAK 
 
 " Their trunks ! They didn t lose any time, did 
 they? But do you mean to say there was no tele 
 phoning 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 ! " 
 
 V " 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 !" 
 
THE STURDY OAK 95 
 
 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 un 
 tenable 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 misunder 
 standing, 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 
 
96 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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. 
 
THE STURDY OAK 97 
 
 " 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 drum 
 stick. 
 
 " 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 con 
 demned, and that unless I do something or other 
 they ll all be condemned. It s a horrid neighbor 
 hood, 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 
 

 98 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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 " 
 
THE STURDY OAK 99 
 
 " 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 col 
 lecting 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 morn 
 ing, 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. 
 
ioo THE STURDY OAK 
 
 " 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 yes 
 terday 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 reason 
 able? 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 Gene- 
 vieve 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. Gene- 
 
THE STURDY OAK 101 
 
 vieve, who had been gazing in some astonishment 
 at the once hot-headed, rebellious girl, sighed sym 
 pathetically. Every one knew about the Reverend 
 Mr. Totter s death. 
 
 " And after that I just wanted to be busy/ con 
 tinued 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 rub 
 bers 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 attrac 
 tive to men ? " 
 
 George cleared his throat. 
 
102 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 u All women can t marry, I suppose. It s in 
 England, I believe, that there are a million unmar 
 ried 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 in 
 nocently. 
 
 Genevieve listened in a stupefaction. This was 
 married life, then? Not since her childhood had 
 Genevieve so longed to stamp, to scream, to pro 
 test, 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 indig 
 nantly quite a fool. But she felt that if George 
 went on being martyred, and mechanically polite, 
 
THE STURDY OAK 103 
 
 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 per 
 mitted; but Gene vie ve 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 thought 
 ful, 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 
 
104 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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 every 
 where were talking about George s article, and ex 
 pected 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 worry 
 ing 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. 
 
It was hard on the darling old boy to come home to Miss Emelene 
 and the cat and Eleanor and Alys every night! 
 
THE STURDY OAK 105 
 
 " 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 Gene- 
 vieve 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 shoul 
 der 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 
 
106 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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, sweet 
 heart, 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 
 
THE STURDY OAK 107 
 
 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 
 
io8 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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 ! " Gene- 
 vieve 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 yester 
 day," 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 vet 
 eran of the civil as well as the Spanish war had 
 told you that it was the restless outbreaking of a 
 
THE STURDY OAK 109 
 
 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, pleas 
 antly. " 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 men 
 tion an anonymous Colonel, of course they all sit 
 up ! He says that he s going to get a signed state 
 ment from you that he never said that, and publish 
 it!" 
 
 " Ridiculous ! " said George. 
 
 "Then here are two letters," Betty pursued. 
 
i io THE STURDY OAK 
 
 " 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 mis 
 taken " 
 
 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. 
 
THE STURDY OAK in 
 
 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: Cath 
 erine 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, 
 
ii2 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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, some 
 times ! " 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 con 
 served 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. 
 
THE STURDY OAK 113 
 
 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." 
 
ii4 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 " 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. 
 
THE STURDY OAK 115 
 
 " One hundred and sixty-one ! " said Betty. \J 
 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, Gene- 
 vieve 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 inter 
 vals 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. 
 
 116 
 
THE STURDY OAK 117 
 
 At the end of twenty minutes or so George began 
 turning a delicate blue and a clatter as of distant 
 castanets provided an obligate 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 
 
n8 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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. Lean 
 ing back on her hands, as she did, she could see 
 
THE STURDY OAK 119 
 
 the red come up the back of his neck and spread 
 into his ears. But it didn t make him conversa 
 tionally 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 far 
 ther 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 ap 
 propriate 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 
 
120 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 too outrageously rude, even for George. But be 
 fore 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 Suf 
 frage 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. 
 
THE STURDY OAK 121 
 
 " 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 be 
 lated 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, 
 
122 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 / 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 micro 
 scopic differences. 
 
 But Betty was wrong here and the married pair 
 A on the front seat were right. 
 
 Just reflect for a minute what Genevieve s George 
 was. He was her knight, her Bayard, her thor 
 oughly Tennysonian King Arthur. The basis of 
 
 her adoration was that he should remain like tfyat. 
 
 W 
 You can see then what a staggering experiend^ 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 en 
 shrined, 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! 
 
THE STURDY OAK 123 
 
 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 /Eonian 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 Eme 
 lene 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 ! " 
 
124 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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, anti 
 septic care. 
 
 He had taken pleasure in recommending Miss 
 Eliot, he explained, and Mrs. Brewster-Smith was 
 acting on his recommendation. Any questions aris 
 ing 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 satis 
 faction, " that s done ! " 
 
 The grimness lasted, but the satisfaction did not. 
 Or only until the return of the office boy, half an 
 
THE STURDY OAK 125 
 
 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 prop 
 erty 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, v 
 " 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; 
 
126 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 namely, that business was business, and that a busi 
 ness woman had the same privilege a business man 
 had, of declining a job that looked as if it would en 
 tail 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 in 
 volved the adjustment of some troublesome details. 
 But unless Miss Eliot would undertake it, he 
 wouldn t know just where to turn. Alys had quar 
 reled with Allen, and Sampson was a skate. And 
 perhaps a little plain talk to Alys about the condi 
 tion of the cottages " from one of her own sex," 
 
THE STURDY OAK 127 
 
 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 stenog 
 rapher 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 volum 
 inous typewritten document, was E. Eliot herself. 
 It was almost superfluous to mention that her name 
 was Edith. She never signed it, and there was 
 
128 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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 intelli 
 gent, homely face, which probably got the attrac 
 tion 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 be 
 fore this." 
 
THE STURDY OAK 129 
 
 "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 inter- 
 
130 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 posed 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 ques 
 tion seriously," she said. " It has a certain im 
 portance. But I didn t mean to interrupt you. Go 
 ahead." 
 
THE STURDY OAK 131 
 
 " 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 busi 
 ness 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 
 
132 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 property to attend to have had it dumped on their 
 hands in middle life, or after, by the wills of lov 
 ing husbands. Those women, I ll say frankly, are 
 the devil and all to deal with. But it s their hus 
 bands and fathers fault, and not their own. Any 
 how, that isn t the reason I wouldn t take those 
 cottages. 
 
 V " It was the cottages themselves, and not the 
 woman who owned them, that decided me. That 
 whole Kentwood district is a disgrace to civiliza 
 tion. The sanitary conditions are filthy; have been 
 for years. The owners have been resisting con 
 demnation 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 
 
THE STURDY OAK 133 
 
 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 
 
134 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 answering. But coming from this source, it sur 
 prised her into a speechless stare. 
 
 " Why," she said at last, " I do it because I be 
 lieve 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 be 
 lieve 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 
 
THE STURDY OAK 135 
 
 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 ex 
 claimed 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, j */ 
 
 to get 
 
 when I m pretty busy, I haven t been able 
 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 
 
136 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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 sicken 
 ing 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 senti 
 mental 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 
 
THE STURDY OAK 137 
 
 honestly believes that women are made of some 
 thing 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 
 
138 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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 attor 
 ney 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 
 
THE STURDY OAK 139 
 
 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, any 
 way." 
 
 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 
 
140 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 by women, girls of my age, standing over a ma 
 chine 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 or 
 ganized 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. 
 
^JifCr** 
 THE STURDY OAK 141 
 
 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 pre 
 liminary 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 
 
i 4 2 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 her success had taught her how hard success is to 
 obtain. She saw much farther into the conse 
 quences of the proposed campaign than Betty could 
 see. She realized the bitter animosity that it would 
 provoke. She knew it was well within the prob 
 abilities 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 di 
 rector, 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 cam 
 paign, " 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." 
 
 143 
 
H4 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 To George, itchingly aware through all his rasped 
 nerves of Mrs. Herrington s letter in that morn 
 ing 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 fur 
 niture 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 pa 
 pers; let em heckle you on the stump. All that 
 you ve got to say is that you ve expressed your per 
 sonal 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 run 
 ning 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 
 
THE STURDY OAK 145 
 
 Whitewater County, the prosecution of the race 
 track 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 ir 
 relevancy 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 Mar- 
 
146 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 tin 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 affecta 
 tion of bucolic calm dropped from him. He turned 
 abruptly. 
 
 " What s that going on at McMonigal s corner ? " 
 he demanded sharply. 
 
THE STURDY OAK 147 
 
 " 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 lead 
 ing 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 damn 
 able irritation: 
 
 " SOME QUESTIONS FOR CANDIDATE REMINGTON." 
 
 A foot high, an inch broad, black as Erebus, the 
 letters shouted at him against an orange background. 
 
148 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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, cun 
 ningly 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 on 
 lookers 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 man 
 ager could see that each sheet bore that horrid 
 headline : 
 
 " QUESTIONS FOR CANDIDATE REMINGTON." 
 
 The whole population of Whitewater, 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 hori 
 zontal behind him. As statesman and as undertaker, 
 
THE STURDY OAK 149 
 
 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 Rem 
 ington 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 re 
 sponded 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 mean 
 ing of that scene." 
 
 Betty looked out with an air of intelligent in 
 terest. 
 
 " Oh yes ! " she said vivaciously. " I think I can. 
 It s a Voiceless Speech." 
 
 " A voice 1 " George s own face was a voice 
 less speech as he repeated two syllables of his stenog 
 rapher s explanation. 
 
 Yes. Don t you know about voiceless speeches ? 
 
150 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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 Herring- 
 ton 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 de 
 cencies 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 cam 
 paign?" 
 
 But before George could tell her why his indig 
 nation against his prospective hostess was imper 
 sonal and unemotional, the long figure of Mr. Doo- 
 little again projected itself upon the scene. 
 
 Betty effaced herself, gliding from the inner of- 
 
THE STURDY OAK 151 
 
 fice, 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 suf 
 frage 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 break 
 ing 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. Doo- 
 
V 
 
 152 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 little, 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 WOMAN 
 HOOD. " 
 
 A critical listener would have caught a note of 
 
THE STURDY OAK 153 
 
 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 woman 
 hood, 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 HERI 
 TAGE. 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. 
 
 Allen 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 
 
 A 
 
154 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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 sym 
 pathy yourself. Oh, come now, Mrs. McMoni- 
 gal " 
 
 But Mrs. McMonigal did not come now. The 
 campaign manager frowned as he replaced the re 
 ceiver. 
 
 " Widow owns the place. That Eliot woman is 
 the agent. The suffrage gang has the owner s per 
 mission to use the building from now on to elec 
 tion. She says she s in sympathy. Well, we ll have 
 to think of something " 
 
 "It s easy enough," declared George. "Til 
 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." 
 
THE STURDY OAK 155 
 
 " 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 White 
 water County and this city is feelin the benefits 
 of it. People are buying things clothes, flour, fur 
 niture, victrolas, automobiles, rum. 
 
 " There ain t a merchant of any description in 
 this county but his business is booming on account 
 
156 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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. Reming 
 ton 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. 
 
 \J It ain t decent citizenship to try it. It ain t neigh 
 borly. 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, be 
 come its banner bearer without possessing certain 
 political apperceptions. He knew, as Benjie Doo- 
 little spoke, that Benjie spoke the truth White- 
 
THE STURDY OAK 157 
 
 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 man 
 ager 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 com 
 pletely and satis fyingly 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 im 
 politic, too, as he realized impolitic but irresist 
 ible. It was the easiest way in which candidate 
 
158 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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 
 
THE STURDY OAK 159 
 
 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 bit 
 ing 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 bar- 
 
160 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 gain 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 dis 
 trict 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 unmistak- 
 
THE STURDY OAK 161 
 
 able sounds of a desk being permanently cleared of 
 i its present incumbent s belongings. 
 
 After a while, Betty bade him a too courteous 
 I 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 op 
 portune 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 Eme- 
 lene 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 
 
162 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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 com 
 pleteness 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 hus 
 bandly 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 
 
THE STURDY OAK 163 
 
 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 go 
 ing 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 dis 
 cussion," she said mildly. " It doesn t initiate any 
 
1 64 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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 accept 
 ance 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 con 
 tinuation of those factory conditions upon the dis 
 trict attorney s office, had doubtless repeated those 
 damn fool, impractical questions which the suffra 
 gists 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 in 
 tellectually 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. 
 
THE STURDY OAK 165 
 
 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 eve 
 ning 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 , 
 1 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?X/ 
 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 masque 
 rading 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, 
 
1 66 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 trying to interpret the question that had been in her 
 eyes, trying to interpret her careful silence, he real 
 ized 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-exam 
 ination 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 post- 
 
THE STURDY OAK 167 
 
 poned 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 
 inear the door and looking at him with a new ex 
 pression 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, 
 iwhatever you decide now always I love you. 
 JEven 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, promis- 
 jing 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 con 
 scious expectation of anything from him in the way 
 of response. She had vaguely but confidingly ex 
 pected 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 beau 
 tifully. His Uncle Jaffry, for instance, had his 
 
 168 
 
THE STURDY OAK 169 
 
 openly skeptical moments. But George even lived 
 up to his uncle s skepticism. He accepted his re 
 marks 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 unsympa 
 thetic hand. 
 
 The next morning, while George was still shav 
 ing, the telephone rang. -It was Betty. 
 
 " Can you have lunch with me at Thome 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 re 
 plied. 
 
 "Hasn t George told you?" 
 
170 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 " 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 
 
THE STURDY OAK 171 
 
 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 an- 
 i other 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 ques 
 tion in the world. 
 
 Why, indeed, had he fired Betty Sheridan? He 
 hadn t really given himself an account of the in 
 ward reasons yet. The episode had been too dis 
 turbing; and it was George s characteristic to put 
 
172 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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, un 
 opened, 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. 
 
THE STURDY OAK 173 
 
 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 question- 
 ingly 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 find 
 ing himself quarreling with the perfect wife, a 
 vagrant memory came to George that he had heard 
 that Genevieve had a hot temper. 
 
174 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 She certainly had. He didn t notice how hand 
 some 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 foun 
 dation 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 iden 
 tifying him with one single mistake. He was will 
 ing 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, " pom 
 pous " 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 per 
 ceived the same awful truth. Each saw that love 
 
You mean because she s a suffragist? You sent her away 
 for that? Why, really, that s tyranny!" 
 
THE STURDY OAK 175 
 
 in the other s heart was dead, and that things never 
 could be the same again. So they stood look 
 ing 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 
 
176 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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," pur 
 sued Cousin Emelene. 
 
 " Yes, that s all," replied Genevieve, her melan 
 choly 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 win 
 dows ? " she questioned. 
 
 " Yes," he returned. " Our friend Mrs. Herring- 
 ton 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 ? " 
 
THE STURDY OAK 177 
 
 " 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 fol 
 lowed 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 impos 
 sible. 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 
 
178 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 you mean to say that you had the nerve to send 
 her away, send her out of my office without con 
 sulting 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 num 
 ber 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 ! " 
 
THE STURDY OAK 179 
 
 " 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 
 
i8o THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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 un 
 savory stranger." 
 
 He left, and George sat down to gloomy reflec 
 tion. 
 
 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 
 
THE STURDY OAK 181 
 
 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 con 
 centrate 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 
 
182 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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 cry 
 ing 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 in 
 forming 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 after 
 noon Mr. Doolittle lounged heavily in. 
 
 " Have some gum, George ? " he inquired, insert 
 ing a large piece in his own mouth. 
 
 He chewed rhythmically for a space. George 
 
THE STURDY OAK 183 
 
 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 suf 
 fragists 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 White- 
 
i8 4 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 water 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 in 
 quired. 
 
 "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 Thome 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." 
 
 185 
 
1 86 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 " 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. 
 
THE STURDY OAK 187 
 
 " 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 magnifi 
 cent 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. 
 
1 88 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 " Has Genevieve been well, we won t say poking 
 the hose 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. Doo- 
 little 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: 
 
THE STURDY OAK 189 
 
 " 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 to 
 gether 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 
 

 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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 per 
 haps 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-ex 
 citable, irrational and very hard to deal with." 
 
 " Dear me," said JafTry. " 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 irra- 
 
THE STURDY OAK 191 
 
 tional 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 ex 
 clamation. 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 * 
 
i 9 2 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 of her beauty, her abilities, her charms; and par 
 ticularly he liked to think about her love for him. 
 
 A week ago he would have met the present sit 
 uation 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 pres 
 ent." 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 Gene- 
 vieve 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." 
 
THE STURDY OAK 193 
 
 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 remem 
 bered 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 
 
194 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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 rinding 
 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 in-, 
 vestigation ; 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 un- 
 candid ? 
 
 " 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." 
 
THE STURDY OAK 195 
 
 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 work 
 ing 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 in 
 spectors 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 mem 
 bers 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? 
 
196 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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, dif 
 ferent 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 
 
THE STURDY OAK 197 
 
 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 prac 
 tical 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 
 
i 9 8 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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 con- 
 
THE STURDY OAK 199 
 
 fides something not always confided to women, " en 
 forcing 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 tkat 
 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 4 
 meant women when I said we. George, I m A 
 
200 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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, 
 
THE STURDY OAK 201 
 
 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 dis 
 solve 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 partner 
 ship! 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 any 
 thing 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 
 
202 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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 stenog 
 rapher," he said, " my wife, my partner; next, per 
 haps it will be my election." 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 BY ETHEL WATTS MUMFORD 
 
 PENNY,, pacing the drawing-room with panther- 
 esque 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, 5 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 
 
 203 
 
204 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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 apolo 
 gize?" 
 
 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 particu 
 larly 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," 
 
THE STURDY OAK 205 
 
 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. Con 
 found 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 V 
 you ve turned out at least half -decent, Betty 11 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 " 
 
206 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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 cir 
 cumstance was deepening to cancerous vindictive- 
 ness. 
 
 As Pennington left with a cheery good-by and a 
 final half-cynical word of advice " to get onto him- 
 
THE STURDY OAK 207 
 
 self " 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, 
 
2o8 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 " 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 
 Allen 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 amaze 
 ment he flushed crimson. " I mean lots of these 
 complaints are really mere red tape; some self-im 
 portant 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 
 
THE STURDY OAK 209 
 
 says that the conditions out there are really dread 
 ful." 
 
 " I ll talk to Allen," said George with an affecta 
 tion 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 / 
 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. 
 
210 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 " I have utter confidence in George," she an 
 swered 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 confi 
 dence implied accepted responsibility, and he ac 
 knowledged to himself that he wanted to and would 
 dodge the unwelcome burden. He turned a benign 
 Jovian expression on Mrs. Brewster-Smith and con 
 descended 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 Samp 
 son nor er Eliot is, I think, advisable for your 
 best interests." 
 
 At the mention of the last name Genevieve s ex 
 pressive 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 
 
THE STURDY OAK 211 
 
 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. 
 
212 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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 in 
 tentions. 
 
 A telephone call interrupted the meal. He an 
 swered it with relief, bowing a hurried, self-impor 
 tant 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 head 
 quarters. 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 circumspec 
 tion. The words were in like manner enlightening. 
 
THE STURDY OAK 
 
 " 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 hurt 
 ing 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 
 
2i 4 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 so frank, dear, but we women must help one an 
 other by our experience and our intuitions." 
 
 Genevieve looked at her. Oblique angles had be 
 come 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 bro- 
 midic, Emelene comforted her. 
 
THE STURDY OAK 215 
 
 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 bor 
 rowed. 
 
 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 pro 
 longed 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 
 I Country Club flashed by. Now the sky to the right 
 
216 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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 " Work 
 men s Cottages." 
 
 Amid the confusion, irregular trodden paths led, 
 short-cutting, toward the clattering, grinding muni 
 tion 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 de 
 mand for labor. A large weather-beaten signboard 
 at a wired cross-road bore the name of " Kent- 
 wood," 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 
 
THE STURDY OAK 217 
 
 toward the unlovely but productive outskirts, Gene- 
 vieve 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 col 
 lapsed 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 morn 
 ing, you know." 
 
 " Very well, then, Alys ! " Genevieve s voice as 
 sumed 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." 
 
2i8 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 " I know you haven t. But I m going to walk 
 through. / am making a report for the Woman s 
 Forum." 
 
 Alys face crimsoned with anger. 
 
 " You have no right to do such a thing," she ex 
 claimed. " 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 in 
 cisive 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 
 
THE STURDY OAK 219 
 
 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. Chil 
 dren 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 ad 
 joining 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 
 
220 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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 Kentwood." 
 
 "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 Kent- 
 
THE STURDY OAK 221 
 
 wood, 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 nego 
 tiating the muddy thoroughfare between the dilapi 
 dated 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 occa 
 sional tap at the wide-apart hydrants, installed by 
 the factories for protection in case of fire, as evi 
 denced 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 
 
222 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 evidence of the same, balanced on a rut and sur 
 veyed 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 tod 
 dlers to gawky girls and boys of school age. 
 
 Genevieve s eyes widened. " Dear me," she ex 
 claimed, " 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. 
 
THE STURDY OAK 223 
 
 " 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 
 
 i 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 inspec 
 tor/ said Genevieve, amused, in spite of her indig 
 nation, at the dark picture presented. 
 
 "Distric nothin ," the other sneered. "There 
 
 ain t nothin here but rent an taxes doggone if I 
 
 I don t quit. There s plenty to do this here mindin 
 
224 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 work, an I bet I could make more at the factory. 
 They re payin grand for overtime." 
 
 Genevieve looked at the thin shoulders and nar 
 row chest of the girl, noted her growing pallor and 
 wondered how long such a physique could with 
 stand 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 sacri 
 fice 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 
 
THE STURDY OAK 225 
 
 town it d cost them the trolley both ways, and all 
 the time lost. It s the location they pay for. Mr. 
 Allen 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 expres 
 sion 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 
 
226 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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 sani 
 tation, no trenching, no mosquito-extermination 
 plant. Malaria and typhoid are prevalent; it s all 
 very bad, very bad, indeed. And you d hardly be 
 lieve, Mrs. Brewster-Smith, what difficulties we are 
 having with the owners as a class. The five big 
 gest 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 STURDY OAK 227 
 
 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 rep 
 resent Mrs. Brewster-Smith." 
 
 " Oh, I know, I know," Mr. Glass hastened to 
 exonerate his companion. 
 
 " I believe Miss Eliot declined the honor," Gene- 
 jyieve s voice was heard. 
 
 " I did," the agent affirmed. She laughed shortly. 
 Otherwise you would hardly find me here in my 
 Dresent 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 
 ^he had been taught to shirk as a sacred feminine 
 fight. Therefore, feeling injured, she voiced her 
 nnocence. 
 
 " Your husband, my dear Genevieve, has been 
 rood enough to administer my little estate. What- 
 
228 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 ever 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 con 
 tinue this insulting attitude ? " 
 
THE STURDY OAK 229 
 
 " 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 every 
 body s pardon. I m sure, it was awfully bad man 
 ners 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, pub 
 lic-spirited district attorney get into office even if 
 
230 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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. Occa 
 sionally an expression of commiseration or con 
 demnation 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 
 
THE STURDY OAK 231 
 
 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 
 
 I 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 
 
232 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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 com 
 mand. 
 
 The very terseness of her question seemed to jerk 
 an unwilling answer from the guard. 
 
 " Michael Mehan." 
 
 " And you re employed by the Owners Protec 
 tive 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 
 
THE STURDY OAK 233 
 
 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 em 
 ployed you. How about that ? " 
 
 "I m put here by the O. P. L. That s good 
 enough fer yer lady owner not 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, Mc- 
 Laughlin 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 
 

 .234 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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 trav 
 eled highway, " how do you like the purlieus of our 
 noble little city?" 
 
 Genevieve was silent. Then she spoke with con 
 viction. 
 
 " 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 confront 
 ing him was this : was he prepared to sell his politi 
 cal birthright for the mess of pottage they offered 
 him? 
 
 He stood a second at the door of the office, peer 
 ing through the reeking, smoke-filled atmosphere, 
 
 235 
 
236 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 to get a bird s-eye view of the situation before he 
 entered. 
 
 Mr. Doolittle sat on the edge of a table mono- 
 loguing to Wes Norton and Pat Noonan. Mr. 
 Norton was the president of the Whitewater Com 
 mercial 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 work 
 ers 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 
 
THE STURDY OAK 237 
 
 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 state 
 ment 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. 
 
238 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 " 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 him 
 self and Remington, and while he did not under 
 stand 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." 
 
THE STURDY OAK 239 
 
 " 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 con 
 ditions 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 dis 
 cussion, please," said George with tardy but noble 
 I 
 
 loyalty. 
 
240 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 " 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 ? " im 
 patiently. 
 
 "Are ye aimin to answer them voiceless ques 
 tions ? " 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." 
 
THE STURDY OAK 241 
 
 " 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 highway 
 man. What do you take me for, Doolittle ? " 
 
242 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 " 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 under jaw, 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 hoist 
 ing his big body on to its short legs, " in politics we 
 don t call a spade a spade. We call it ( a agricul 
 tural implument. 
 
 With this sage remark Mr. Doolittle took his de 
 parture, followed by the other prominent citizens. 
 
 George sat where they left him, head in hands, 
 
THE STURDY OAK 243 
 
 i 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 de 
 manded 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 rub 
 ber doll? He would telephone Doolittle that he 
 would rather give up his candidacy. Here he paused. 
 
 Suppose he did withdraw, nobody would under 
 stand. The town would think the women had fright 
 ened him off. He couldn t come out now and de 
 nounce 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 strug 
 gle was taking place in the Remington family. 
 
244 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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 con 
 sidered 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 Kent wood 
 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 
 
THE STURDY OAK 245 
 
 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 Kent- 
 wood, that she hated Cousin Alys ! 
 
 The following Sunday, when she put on her coat, 
 she found a souvenir of that visit in4ier pocket, a 
 soiled reminder of poverty and toil. She remem 
 bered 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! 
 
246 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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 muni 
 tion 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 mid 
 night 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 
 
THE STURDY OAK 247 
 
 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 an 
 nounce 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 excite 
 ment. 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. 
 
248 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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 mo 
 ment, 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." 
 
THE STURDY OAK 249 
 
 " She s human, I guess didn t want to see dis 
 turbing 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?" 
 
250 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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 em 
 barrass 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 
 
THE STURDY OAK 251 
 
 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 fore 
 seen 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 
 
252 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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 modu 
 lated 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 hur 
 ried on. 
 
THE STURDY OAK 253 
 
 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 be 
 hind 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 per 
 fectly still in the shadow. At the same moment the 
 two burly gentlemen ran round the corner and saw 
 nothing. 
 
254 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 " 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 con 
 versation 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, 
 charring, 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 -" 
 
THE STURDY OAK 255 
 
 " 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 dis 
 trict. 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 ? " de 
 manded 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 ? " 
 
256 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 " 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 White 
 water 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 sac 
 rifices? I m on to you. You re one of them up 
 town reformers. What do you know about sacri- 
 y\ fices ? Ye got a sure place to sleep, ain t ye ? Ye Ve 
 
THE STURDY OAK 257 
 
 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 under 
 tone of anger which to an experienced speaker 
 would have been ominous. But Genevieve blun 
 dered 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 land 
 lords of Kent wood 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." 
 
258 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 " Listen a minute. Don t waste your time get 
 ting mad at this girl. She s a friend of mine. 
 And you may not believe me, but she means all 
 right." 
 
 " What s she pussyf ootin 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 
 
THE STURDY OAK 259 
 
 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. 
 
260 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 "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 candi 
 date 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 Reming 
 ton 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 
 
 261 
 
262 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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 samje. 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 pa 
 triotic 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 on.e box and 
 
THE STURDY OAK 263 
 
 the bad Americans in another box. I want the votes 
 of those of all castes and cults who believe in pros 
 perity [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 sway 
 ing 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 Gene- 
 vieve 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." 
 
264 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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 agi 
 tation by the women and this investigation of condi 
 tions 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. 
 
THE STURDY OAK 265 
 
 " 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 remem 
 ber 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 race 
 track gang because she was trying to live decent ? " 
 
 George smiled in remembrance. 
 
266 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 " 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 vo 
 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 any 
 thing 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 tele 
 phone the first thing in the morning and make cer- 
 
THE STURDY OAK 267 
 
 tain 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 pro 
 gram 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 inconven- 
 
 
268 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 ienced 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 laconi 
 cally. " 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 be 
 hind 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 
 
THE STURDY OAK 269 
 
 Mrs. George Remington that she s spendin the 
 week-end with Mrs. Napoleon Boneypart," she 
 called. " My man says he s a good friend of George 
 Remington and is supportin him for district attor 
 ney, 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 Repub 
 lican 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! 
 
270 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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 intelli 
 gence 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 investi 
 gating 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, * con 
 tinued Evans. ".He expects you to rise. He ex 
 pects 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 ques 
 tion. 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- 
 
THE STURDY OAK 271 
 
 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." 
 
272 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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 unthink 
 ing 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." 
 
THE STURDY OAK 273 
 
 " What a sweet valedictory address you are mak 
 ing 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 
 
274 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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 com 
 fortably, " 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 Reming 
 ton 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 
 
THE STURDY OAK 275 
 
 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 ami 
 able 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/ " 
 
276 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 " 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 pay 
 ing 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. "JThe sturdy 
 oak will support the clinging vine ! But while he is 
 doing it he will be defeated. And if he doesn t pro 
 test he will be defeated, for I shall talk! " 
 
 " George Remington will face defeat like a gen 
 tleman, Miss Eliot; have no fear of that. He will 
 speak out, no matter what happens." 
 
THE STURDY OAK 277 
 
 " And when he speaks, when he tells the truth 
 about this whole alliance between the greedy, ruth 
 less rich and the brutal, vicious dregs of this com 
 munity 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 
 
278 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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 Gene- 
 vieve. 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 per 
 son at all it was some ruse to get your car and com 
 promise 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. 
 
THE STURDY OAK 279 
 
 " 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 Arme 
 nian! They ve got Genevieve with that Eliot 
 woman! God Why, Penny, for God s sake, 
 what " 
 
 " Slowly, George slowly. Let s move care 
 fully." 
 
 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 
 
280 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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 de 
 feated you ! " 
 
 The two men stared at each other. Remington 
 said : " You mean I must shield the organiza 
 tion ! " 
 
 " 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 STURDY OAK 281 
 
 the fact, with Norton and Doolittle as corroborat 
 ing witnesses for him ! Oh, you re learning politics 
 fast, George ! " 
 
 The thought of what Gene vie ve 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 learn 
 ing something more than politics. He walked the 
 floor of the room. 
 
 " Weil," he said at last, " let s call in Uncle Mar 
 tin 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 five thousand 
 dollars or so in your behalf that they had con 
 sulted you. And then Doolittle winked and Noonan 
 cocked his head rakishly, and Uncle Martin put 
 
282 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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 com- 
 
THE STURDY OAK 283 
 
 mitted 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 
 
284 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 y " 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. 
 I 
 
 " And because the moral sense of the community 
 
 was in the hearts and heads of the women of the 
 
THE STURDY OAK 285 
 
 community," he went on, " those who are uphold 
 ing the immoral compact between business and poli 
 tics 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 dis 
 illusionment 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 di 
 rectly opposite nothing screened the offense of the 
 
THE STURDY OAK 287 
 
 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 disturb 
 ance 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 com 
 ment 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. 
 
288 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 "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 dis 
 turbance was added by the leisurely stroll of the 
 policeman turning in at the head of the street. Be 
 fore 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 aug 
 mented by the fact that he hadn t yet breakfasted. 
 
THE STURDY OAK 289 
 
 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 some 
 how 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, sub 
 ject 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 sys 
 tem of mutual weaknesses and condonings, but he 
 had always thought of himself and his own family 
 as moving freely in the interstices, peculiarly ex 
 empt, 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 pre 
 vailed 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. 
 
290 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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 sug 
 gestion, 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 Jaff ry 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 sud 
 denly struck with the possibility of still other coils 
 in any one of which the saving element of indis 
 cretion might be wanting. 
 
 Suppose they should come upon one, just one 
 impregnable honesty, one soul whom the fear of ex 
 posure left unshaken. On such a possibility rested 
 the exemption of the Jafrry-Remingtons. 
 
THE STURDY OAK 291 
 
 It was the reference to E. Eliot in his instruc 
 tions 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 be 
 cause 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 impreg 
 nability 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 un 
 fitted 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 
 
292 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 as the men of Martin Jaffry s world conceived her 
 a tender, enveloping medium in which male com 
 placency, unchecked by any breath of criticism, 
 reaches its perfect flower the flower whose fruit, 
 eaten in secret and afar from the soil which nour 
 ishes it, is graft, corruption and civic incompetence. 
 
 Instinctively his need directed him toward the 
 Remington place. 
 
 Mrs. Brewster-Smith was glad to see him. Be 
 tween George s hurried ,d e P ar ture and Jaffry s re 
 turn 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 lodg 
 ing, 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 
 
THE STURDY OAK 293 
 
 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 per 
 ceive 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 en 
 veloping 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 ! 
 
294 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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 disappear 
 ance 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. Natu 
 rally 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 STURDY OAK 295 
 
 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 consider 
 ation. 
 
 " 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 
 
296 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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 ex 
 hibition of indecision between his obligation as a 
 
THE STURDY OAK 297 
 
 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 head 
 lines ! 
 
 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 Ham 
 ilton, 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 re 
 form and brought Remington in on a full tide of 
 public indignation? 
 
 Would Mike stand the gaff? If it were made 
 
298 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 worth his while. But what about Noonan and Doo- 
 little? So the editorial mind shuttled to and fro 
 amid the confused outpourings of the amazed 
 young candidate, while with eyes bright and con 
 sidering 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 accepta 
 ble 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. 
 
THE STURDY OAK 299 
 
 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 posi 
 tion 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 
 
3 oo THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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 in 
 telligence, she went on to say, that she had called 
 her instead of the Remington house for suppose 
 
THE STURDY OAK 301 
 
 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 
 
302 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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 help 
 less 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 appro 
 priate note. 
 
 Off there to the left, set back from the road 
 among dark, crowding trees, stood a mysterious 
 
THE STURDY OAK 303 
 
 house. Pudge always insisted that he had known 
 it for mysterious at the first glance. It had a man 
 sard 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 shak 
 ing of one of the shutters, as though some one from 
 within were trying the fastenings. 
 
 The shaking stopped after a moment, and then, 
 
304 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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 perform 
 ance 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 fas 
 tened to his sister s shopping bag, from which, if 
 the truth must be told, he had surreptitiously de 
 tached it. 
 
 Pretending to consult it, as though it were some 
 
THE STURDY OAK 305 
 
 sort of pocket oracle, Pudge flashed back, and pres 
 ently 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! ap 
 peared 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 
 
306 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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, gesticu 
 lating 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 com 
 motion 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 igno- 
 miniously 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 
 
THE STURDY OAR 307 
 
 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 \\hcn 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 easv to see that he was not at all sure that 
 this might not be the ease. The possibility that it 
 might be. chocked a movement to pursue the fleeing 
 denevieve. Miss I Hot caught their indecision with 
 a flying shaft. 
 
 " Mrs. George Remington," she said. " will prob 
 ably be in communication with her friends very 
 
308 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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 prem 
 ises 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 direc 
 tion; now and then a private motor whizzed by, 
 but there was no other house near enough to sug 
 gest 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 cer- 
 
THE STURDY OAK 309 
 
 tain that the woman, though she was well bundled 
 up, was not E. Eliot. 
 
 The motor turned away from the town and dis 
 appeared 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; imagina 
 tion pictured her weltering in her own gore. Be 
 tween 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. 
 
3 io THE STURDY OAK 
 
 With the aid of an empty rain barrei, which he 
 overturned and rolled into position, Pudge scram 
 bled 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. 
 
THE STURDY OAK 311 
 
 " 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 re 
 fused 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 her 
 self. " Come on let s catch the trolley ! " 
 
 With Pudge panting after her, she hurried down 
 stairs, 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 irrup- 
 tive 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 Gene- 
 vieve were received, and where his help could in 
 stantly be secured were it required ; and Penny had 
 enlarged that request to the magnitude of a com 
 mand 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 some 
 thing for her? He strode about the office, fuming, 
 sick with the suspense and inaction of his role. 
 
 But Genevieve was not his unbroken concern. 
 31* 
 
THE STURDY OAK 313 
 
 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 state 
 ment 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 after 
 noon 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 ban 
 ners, groups of women from the Woman s Club, 
 the Municipal League and the Suffrage Society 
 were marching up and down the street sidewalks. 
 
3 H THE STURDY OAK 
 
 It was their final demonstration, their last chance 
 to assert the demands of good citizenship and it 
 had attracted hundreds of curious men, vote-own 
 ers, belonging to what, in such periods of political 
 struggle, are referred to on platforms as " our bet 
 ter 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, disregard 
 ing 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 state 
 ment 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 attorney- 
 
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 If 
 
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 W) 
 
THE STURDY OAK 315 
 
 ship. These people below certainly had a jolt com 
 ing 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 suc 
 ceeded 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 7 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 de 
 manded aggressively. 
 
 Mr. Doolittle s face wore that look of bland solici 
 tude, that unobtrusive partnership in the misfortune 
 
3i6 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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 be 
 ginning 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 
 
THE STURDY OAK 317 
 
 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 an 
 swered 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 
 
3i8 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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 driv 
 ing 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 Senti 
 nel, 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 up 
 roar 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 man- 
 
THE STURDY OAK 319 
 
 ner agitated in striking contrast to the dapper and 
 composed appearance usual to that middle-aged little 
 gentleman. 
 
 " George," he panted, " heard anything about 
 Gene vie ve? " 
 
 " 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 
 
320 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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, persua 
 sively. " 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 be 
 fore 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, bewil 
 dered voice of the party boss. " I say, George, I 
 don t know what you re talking about." 
 
THE STURDY OAK 321 
 
 "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 unset 
 tled that they don t know where they re at or 
 where you re at. And a lot of boys in the organiza 
 tion 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 Sen 
 tinel 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 
 
322 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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 any 
 how I m going to give the decent members of the 
 
THE STURDY OAK 323 
 
 party a chance to vote decently ! And you can t re 
 move 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, Doo- 
 little, 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 scoun 
 drel 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 
 
324 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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 promi 
 nent party members feel the party has made a mis 
 take 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 prac 
 tical politician; it had attained such force that it 
 drove him on to taunt his man. 
 
THE STURDY OAK 325 
 
 " 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 sound 
 less oratory. The heckling request which then 
 struck George s eyes began : " Will Candidate Rem 
 ington 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. 
 
326 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 The street was even more a turbulent human sea, 
 with violently twisting eddies, than had appeared 
 from George s windows. It seemed that every mem 
 ber 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 him 
 self, 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 r< 
 turned and, all the fine chivalry forgotten whicl 
 had given to his initial statement to the voters oJ 
 
THE STURDY OAK 327 
 
 Whitewater so noble a sound, he battered aside 
 many of those " fairest flowers of our civili 
 zation, 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 amaze 
 ment 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. Herring- 
 ton 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. 
 
328 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 " 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 appear 
 ance 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 
 
THE STURDY OAK 329 
 
 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 up 
 roar, and there came an artillery attack of eggs, 
 vegetables, stones and bricks. One of the bricks 
 struck George on the shoulder and drove him stag 
 gering back against the Voiceless Speech, sending 
 that instrument of silent argument crashing to the 
 floor. Regaining his balance, George started furi- 
 
330 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 ously 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 ap 
 pearance upon the scene, Noonan s real army now 
 came charging into Main Street, as per that gentle 
 man s grim instructions to " show them messin 
 women what it means to mess in politics." Hun 
 dreds of Whitewater s women were flung about, 
 many sent sprawling to the pavement, and some hun 
 dreds of the city s most respectable voters, caught 
 
THE STURDY OAK 331 
 
 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 ! " breath 
 lessly 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 McMoni- 
 gal 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 em 
 broidered cushions consuming marshmallows and 
 fudge. 
 
 The lot crossed, she hurried through a little gro 
 cery 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 Sheri 
 dan and Genevieve. 
 
332 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 " Genevieve ! " cried George, and caught her into 
 his arms. 
 
 " Oh, George/ 5 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 honey 
 moon nor his college reunion nor the annual con 
 vention of his maiden aunts. This is Mr. Reming 
 ton 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 
 
THE STURDY OAK 333 
 
 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 Commer 
 cial 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 candi- 
 A date to stay right here rest up get his thoughts 
 in order. There are a lot of things to be done. I ll 
 
334 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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 re 
 marked 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 kidnap 
 ping 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 ex 
 ercise of a little of the art of pressure they say you 
 men exercise," was the prompt reply. 
 
THE STURDY OAK 335 
 
 " I telephoned Mr. Ledbetter of the Sentinel ad 
 vising 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 Busi 
 ness 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 state 
 ment. 
 
 " Mr. Norton gave in, and telephoned the Sentinel 
 that if it didn t do as he said he d cancel his adver 
 tising 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." 
 
336 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 "Well," ejaculated George, still staring, "you 
 certainly are a wonder as a campaign mana 
 ger!" 
 
 " 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," re 
 plied the brisk Mrs. Herrington. " We re organiz 
 ing meetings one in every hall in the city, one on 
 
THE STURDY OAK 337 
 
 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 congratu 
 lations 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 swift 
 ness; their rapid and complete house-to-house can 
 vass the work of Mrs. Herrington, of Betty, of 
 that Miss Eliot, of hundreds of women and espe 
 cially of Genevieve. 
 
338 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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 tri 
 umph was so exultingly fresh. With a jar he had 
 
THE STURDY OAK 339 
 
 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 scrib 
 bled 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 im 
 portance that George had to communicate to Gene 
 vieve. Nor half an hour later, when he led his 
 
340 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 bride of four mcnths up to their home, had he de 
 livered 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 handker 
 chief 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, 
 
THE STURDY OAK 341 
 
 " after your invitation you you apostate to chiv 
 alry ! 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." 
 
342 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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 cor 
 rected. 
 
 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 
 iq 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 
 
THE STURDY OAK 343 
 
 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 " 
 
344 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 "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, back 
 ing away. 
 
 Betty gave an affrighted cry it was a long swift 
 journey down from where she had just been. Her 
 
THE STURDY OAK 345 
 
 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 out 
 raged Pudge, his utterance throttled down some 
 what 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 some 
 thing, 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 re won its 
 dominance. 
 
 " Guess I know what they was doing, all right 
 aw, wouldn t it make you sick ! " And, in disgust 
 
346 THE STURDY OAK 
 
 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 
 
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