"She's becoming terribly popular, in the front line of everything, the last word in feminism and all that, you know. A lot of the most progressive clubs have her down for winter talks. But The Fortnightly has to be careful. We have a good many of the old families and we have to go slowly. Mrs. Herrick is extremely radical and speaks at labor meetings and strikes and all that kind of thing, you know. Besides, she's divorced."
Gregory's pencil jabbed a hole in the blue-print. "Is she?"
"Yes, one of the horrid kind." Margaret's tone separated divorces, tolerated some and excluded others. "Mabel wrote to a cousin in California to find out before we asked her. Goodness knows we're not straight-laced, but there are things one can't stand for officially. This Herrick was an artist, Mabel says, did futurist things before any one else heard of them and drank like a fish. He abused her shamefully, but she stood it as long as she could."
Gregory got up and pushed back his chair.
"But when he began to bring women right into the house, she left him. So of course it wasn't her fault. Mabel says she's a wonderful speaker, just a little masculine in her manner, but then such a life wouldn't make her specially clinging or gentle. We've about decided to have her."
Gregory closed the drawing board and Puck came hopefully to his side.
"You mustn't tease daddy, dear; he's busy."
Margaret moved toward the door and beckoned Puck. "Can you take her for just a little walk this afternoon, before the Dawsons come? They're going to bring Squdgy, you know." By raised eyebrows Margaret indicated the need of Puck's being perfectly happy before the arrival of Squdgy, whom she disliked and was apt to ignore completely.
Puck slipped her hand into her father's. The motion drew his notice.
"It's all right, Puckie, go and dress Lady Jane and I'll take you now."