I
ST. PIERRE was the big city of the state. Around it a host of little towns, farming, manufacturing, farther away even mining, made it their center and paid it tribute by mail-order and otherwise. It was one of the Middle West cities at which every big theatrical star, every big musical “attraction,” every well booked lecturer spent at least one night. It boasted branch establishments of exclusive New York and Chicago shops. It had its paragraph in the marriage, birth and death section in Vogue. Altogether it was not at all to be ignored.
Harriet Thompson had known what she was doing when she sent Margaret Duffield West to organize the women of the St. Pierre section in groups which could be manipulated for the Republican party.
Margaret stayed with Mrs. Brownley for a few days and then spent a week with Helen, during which time she found a pleasant room and bath which she leased by the month, and to which she insisted on going.
Helen’s remonstrances had no effect.
“You’re foolish to think of such a thing as my camping on you. Why I may be here for several months. No, I couldn’t. Besides we’ll have a really better time if we don’t have to be guesting each other. And I get a reasonable amount for expenses which really needn’t be added on to your grocery bill. Gage has party expense enough.”
Gage was very cordial, particularly as he saw that her visit was not to be indefinite. It hurried him perhaps into greater gallantry than he might have otherwise shown. He did everything to be the obliging host and to his surprise enjoyed himself immensely. Margaret was more than a good talker. She gave him inside talk on some things that had happened in Washington. She could discuss politicians with him. No one spoke of the deteriorating influences of marriage and the home on women. Margaret was delightful with the children. She did not hint at a desire to see him psychoanalyzed. He found himself rather more coöperative than antagonistic and on the day of Margaret’s definite removal to her new room he was even sorry.
Helen found the new room most attractive. It was a one-room and bath apartment, so-called, furnished rather badly but with a great deal of air and light.
“It feels like college,” she said, sinking down on a cretonne covered couch bed. “Atrocious furniture but so delightfully independent. What fun it must be to feel so solidly on your own, Margaret.”
“Not always fun, but satisfying,” said Margaret, making a few passes at straightening furniture.
Helen sighed faintly and then lost the sigh in a little laugh.
“I’m actually afraid to ask you some things,” she admitted, “I’m afraid of what you’ll say. Would you really sooner not be married?”
“I think so. Emotional moments of course. On the whole I think I’d rather not be.”
“But you didn’t always feel that way.”
“No—not six years ago.”
“Then was there a man you wanted?”
“There were several men. But I didn’t want them hard enough or they didn’t want me simultaneously.”
“Where are they now?”
“God knows—quarreling with their wives, perhaps.”
“And you don’t care?”
“Truly—not a bit.” Margaret’s eyes were level and quite frank. “It’s all dreadful nonsense, this magazine story stuff about the spinsters with their secret yearnings covered up all the time. I’m going to do something to prick that bubble before I die. Of course the conceit of married people is endless but at least spinsters have a right to as much dignity as bachelors.”
“All right,” said Helen, “I’ll respect you. I know I’m going home and that you aren’t following me with wistful eyes wishing you could caress my babies. Is that it? You comb your hair without a qualm and go down to dinner.”
“Exactly. Only before you go I want you to promise to go with us on this trip to the country towns. We’ll be gone three days only. Gage can spare you.”
“I don’t quite see what use I’d be.”
“I do. I want you to talk to them and charm them. I can organize. Mrs. Brownley can give them Republican gospel. What I want you to do is to give them a little of the charm of being a Republican. Borrow some of Gage’s arguments and use your own manner in giving them and the result will be what I want.”
“Don’t I seem rather superfluous?”
“We couldn’t do it without you. Mrs. Brownley for name—you for charm—and I’ll do the rest of the work.”
Helen looked at her watch.
“Gage will beat me,” she declared, “I’m late for dinner again.”