Part 5 (2/2)

”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. ”'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 demanded.

”Wiles, tricks, stratagems,” replied the rising young diplomat moodily, smarting under the moment's defeat.

”Serve him right for pulling all that old-fas.h.i.+oned 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. ”Oh, oh, oh!” This was low, tense, thrilling. It expressed horror. ”So that's what your convictions 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 ventured 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. ”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, a.s.suming 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 accusing 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 appearing to be engaged in deep thought.

Miss Sheridan, apparently for mere exclamatory purposes, now reread the fulmination of the absent 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, n.o.ble 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. Evans, suffering the throes of a mighty inspiration, suddenly found it sweetest music.

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