"I shall never," she said, "hear the last of that book!"
"Why should you wish to hear the last of it?" asked Electra. "It is a very valuable book. It would be more so if you would only be frank about it. But I can understand that. I told the club it was your extreme delicacy. You simply couldn't mention names."
"No, I couldn't," murmured the old lady. "I couldn't."
"But here is something, grandmother. You must help me out here. Here where you talk about the crazy philanthropist who had the colonization scheme—not Liberia—no, that's farther on—Well, you say he came to grandfather and asked him to give something to the fund." She was regarding Madam Fulton with clear eyes of interrogation.
"No, no, I don't remember," said the old lady impatiently. "Well, go on."
"You don't remember?"
"Yes, yes, of course I remember, in a way. But go on, Electra."
"Well, then the philanthropist asked him to be one of the five men who would guarantee a certain sum at their death, and grandfather was indignant and said, 'Charity begins at home.' Listen." She found her page and read, "'I shall assuredly leave every inch of ground and every cent I possess to my wife, and that, not because she is an advanced woman but because she is not.'"
"Of course!" corroborated the old lady. "Precisely. There's a slap at suffrage. That's what I mean it for, and you can tell 'em so."
Electra did not stop to register her pain at that. She held up one hand to enjoin attention.