Part 20 (2/2)

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: ”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 together 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 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 perhaps 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-excitable, irrational and very hard to deal with.”

”Dear me,” said Jaffry. ”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 irrational 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?

<script>