Retrospect and Prophecy
Just two years after the luncheon of the "Progressive Workers," at which the first proposition was made to elect a woman-mayor, the executive board met again to discuss plans for the coming winter. For the first time in many months Gertrude Van Deusen was with them. She had been obliged to forego club-meetings for the most part, unless she would neglect the affairs of her office, and she had all the woman's conscientious scruples about routine and detail.
"Well," said Mrs. Mason, who was president this year, "we can claim credit for a lot of good work in the past year or two. At last, we are a power in the city in fact, as well as in name."
"Yes," said Mrs. Bateman, "we are a recognized factor in public affairs. The chairman of the Municipal League came to me the other day to know what we propose to do about the winter campaign in politics and in civics."
"They know they can't do much without us," murmured the fluffy little woman in a new blue gown. "My husband says so."
"One doesn't wonder," said Cornelia Jewett, "when one looks over the city. We have our markets inspected, have shut up saloons and worse places, have put two women on the school board, cleaned the streets, established vacation schools and playgrounds, and elected a mayor."
"And by electing our mayor, have cleaned up the city pretty thoroughly from corruption," added Mrs. Turner. "For if Burke had been elected, things would have gone from bad to worse; if Allingham—well, I'm a little afraid of our men's doctrine of laissez-faire."
"Oh, I think Mr. Allingham would have done just as good work as has been done," said Gertrude, speaking for the first time. "He is both fearless and conscientious, and the moment he saw any sign of graft, he would have attacked it with courage and skill—and with less spectacular consequences than we did, perhaps," she added, smiling.
"I do not believe it," answered Mrs. Bateman. "He has developed wonderfully and is a man to be depended upon now; but it took you, Gertrude, to educate him."
The Mayor looked up quickly. The little episode on the bridge had never been told or repeated. Did anybody mistrust? But Mrs. Bateman kept on:
"There are thousands of good men who need awakening as to what women may do in the way of cleaning up a city, both literally and metaphorically. It takes both the man and the woman to make the model home; why not the model city?"
"We are going to have the honor of electing you again this winter, Gertrude?" asked Mrs. Mason. "May we announce it?"
"I scarcely think so," answered Gertrude. "I have done my full duty. I have given two years of the hardest work of which I am capable to my city. I stepped in as an emergency candidate; but now we shall find no difficulty in finding a candidate. Indeed, I may say that one is already being considered, although his name I must not tell."
"O, it's a shame that our men would think of setting up an opposition candidate," cried the fluffy lady, "after the splendid way you've filled the breach. My husband shall never countenance it in the world."
"Don't get excited, Bella," soothed Gertrude. "I may as well tell you, for it is a matter of considerable pride to me, that the regular committee from the Republican party has already waited upon me and asked me to accept the nomination again—"
She was interrupted by a vigorous clapping of hands.
"But the more I think it over, the more I feel that I did right in saying no," she went on. "I realize that I was an experiment—happily successful. But I believe it will be better all round now, to return to our normal condition, with a man in the mayor's chair."
"Only he must be a good one," said Mrs. Stillman, "one who will carry on your policy. And I can think of several who might be willing, now that you have performed the Herculean task—and who will keep the Augean stables clean."
"Rather than see them put a demagogue into my place I would try to keep it," answered Gertrude. "But with such good men in City Hall as we now have, there is no longer need for a woman there. I bespeak your co-operation for my successor, whose name shall be known in a few days, although I do not think he has consented yet. But when he does, and the candidate is announced, you must all work to elect him. Then I shall retire to private life—thank Heaven!"
"You aren't going to follow Mary Snow's example, are you?" asked the fluffy woman, saucily. "My husband says they are the happiest couple and the best mated, he ever saw."
"Your husband is right, Bella," said Gertrude. "Now, my friends, I must go. I have some work waiting in my office and two or three appointments to be made."
"Do you suppose she'd let us make her the next president of the P. W.'s?" asked Bella, when the mayor left the room.
"Bless you, no!" answered Mrs. Bateman. "What would a woman who has been mayor of a city want of our little club-presidency? Let her take the rest she has earned. She needs it; she is looking worn and pale."
"No wonder. I wish she would marry some nice man," answered the irrepressible Bella.
"There isn't any good enough for her," said Mrs. Mason shortly. "Now, ladies, if there is any business to be done, let's get at it."
When Gertrude arrived at her office John Allingham was waiting for her. She had not seen him alone for months, except for the few brief moments when he had been forced to consult her in regard to some detail of his department work. He looked anxiously at her when she entered the room, not dreaming that her heart was leaping in her bosom at sight of him.
"I want to see you alone a few minutes," he began.
The stenographer rose mechanically and withdrew, closing the door behind her.
"See here,—what is this about your retiring from office," he asked. "You mustn't do it."
"Mustn't I?" she asked.
"By no means," he answered decisively. "You have everything in good running order, your enemies routed, the grafters where they belong, a year of steady improvement under the new order of things,—and the public all with you. It is not right for you to leave now."
"Yes, it is," she answered, getting control of herself. "And it is time for you to take my place."
"I can't,—I have no desire to be mayor. You have proved your fitness for the post," he went on earnestly. "You have proved what a woman can do. Now keep on."
"No," she answered. "I want you to prove what you can do. The committee have asked you to stand?"
"Yes,—but then,—you should take another two years to fully establish and carry out the work you have begun. You see I have completely revised my ideas concerning a woman for mayor."
"Yes, thank you," she replied. "But, listen. I have, under God, had a successful term; I have been able to put through several changes for the better—with the help of good men like you. I am—yes, I admit it,—I am popular today with the people. But popularity is an uncertain thing, and there is no telling how soon it may wane. I am wise in letting go, while I am on the top-wave. Now, honestly, don't you think so?"
"If popularity is all you think of, yes," answered Allingham. "But it isn't."
"No, it isn't," she admitted. "But if you must have the truth, I'll go farther and say, the innovation of trying a woman for mayor was an experiment. The new broom has swept clean, and people are pleased so far. But the natural and right way of cities is to have a man at the helm. Between you and me, it is the fore-ordained method of nature to keep the man at the head of things, to take the brunt, to face the danger. Say what you will, the woman was not meant for this kind of thing. As we go on with our municipal life the realization of this is going to grow upon the people. While they are fully appreciative of all I have tried to do, there will develop the old desire for a man at the helm—and then comes discontent. Indeed, I can already see signs of it. You are the right man for the place. I shall always be thankful for the experience I have had; but I want no more." She smiled up at him. "I am more than content to pass it along,—not alone because the burden is heavy, and I am growing selfish,—but because you are the right man for mayor of Roma."
"Then if it is your wish," Allingham replied, "I will consent." He rose to go. "If only we might stand at the head together," he said. "With you to give a man courage—"
Gertrude interrupted him. "We should not be in accord. We could never agree. Don't talk about it." She rang the bell for the stenographer, and Allingham turned to go.
"May I say," she added, relenting at the expression on his face, "that you have done splendid work in your department? You have achieved the wonderful feat of improving our streets and keeping expenses down at the same time."
"That was not difficult," he answered, "where the opposite had been the practice for so long. I'm going down now to inspect that street we are laying out just back of your place. I'm sorry there had to be blasting."
"The street will be all the more picturesque when it's done," she replied. "Good afternoon, and thank you, for what you promised."
"O, I wonder if I can hold out," she said to herself as he went out. "If he had said another word, I should have given in,—but he didn't."
Still, that he would say it some other time, she knew. Then she would have to say yes.