Part 11 (2/2)
”Good gracious!” Mrs. Hamilton exclaimed, with some trepidation. ”I hope it's nothing that they would not approve of.”
”Be easy,” Ferguson, admonished, soothingly. ”Sure, it's only that we're talking business. It's a matter of wages. The woman folk always approve of them.”
Schmidt rolled his eyes heavenward in despair.
”But, when we tell them of the ten per cent. cut! _Ach, Himmel!_”
Cicily turned a startled glance on her husband.
”A ten per cent. cut!” she exclaimed, involuntarily. ”Why, Charles!”
Hamilton was annoyed by this unexpected irruption of the feminine into the most serious of business discussions--the intrusion of the female on the financial. He spoke with distinct note of disapproval in his voice:
”Now, Cicily, you know nothing of this.”
Delancy, too, added the weight of his accustomed authority.
”Don't bother with things that do not concern you, Cicily.” There was a patronizing quality in the admonition that irritated the wife.
Ferguson spoke to the same effect, but with a radically different motive underlying his words:
”Of course, it don't concern you, Mrs. Hamilton. I guess you'll be glad to have some more money to put in bath-tubs and libraries and gymnasiums. No, ma'am, it don't concern you. But it'll make some difference to our wives and daughters, I'm thinking--ten per cent. out of the pay-envelope every week. It'll take the curl out of my Sadie's false hair, all right.”
”There will be always some good in everything,” Schmidt murmured cynically, but not loud enough for the Yankee to hear.
Cicily was aware of the tension about her, and deemed it the part of wisdom to create a diversion.
”What a coincidence!” she exclaimed, gayly. ”Mrs. Schmidt and Mrs.
Ferguson and Mrs. McMahon are all coming around here this afternoon. I invited them to attend a meeting of our club.”
The dignified face of Mr. Delancy, which was that of the old-school business man, clean-shaven save for the white tufts of side-whisker, was distorted by an emotion of genuine horror; his pink cheeks grew scarlet.
”Cicily!” he gasped.
Hamilton, too, was hardly less disconcerted, for all his familiarity with his wife's equalization whimsies.
”Invited them here?” he questioned, frowning.
The manner of both utterances was of a sort that must inevitably offend the husbands of the women. Cicily, with the sensitiveness of her s.e.x, sought to cover the impression by speaking with a manner of increased enthusiasm.
”Oh, yes,” she answered. ”Isn't it good of them? They have promised to return my call this afternoon.”
Ferguson yielded to a Yankee propensity for dry humour:
”I only hope that Mr. Delancy and Mr. Hamilton won't be too nice to them.”
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