“I’m only surprised that she has not done it long ago,” muttered a bystander.
“What’s that you were saying about the advance of women, eh, Brande? It’s the greatest rot and nonsense, this scribbling and prosing about the equality of the sexes,” blustered Colonel Sladen, squaring himself on the hearthrug. “Women must be kept in their proper places—their sphere is home, the nursery and kitchen.”
Cries of “Oh! oh!” from several young men, drawn to the scene by a well-known blatant bass voice.
“Yes, I say”—encouraged by his audience—“that this growing independence should be nipped, and at once. Women are pushing themselves into our places—doctors, decorators, members of school boards, senior wranglers, journalists. I don’t know what they will want next.”
“Then I shall be happy to enlighten you,” rejoined a clear treble voice from the doorway, and there stood Miss Valpy, in her most mannish coat, Tattersall waistcoat, and sailor hat, heading a crowd of other ladies. “Sorry to disturb you, gentlemen, but we want this room.”
Colonel Sladen puffed and glared, for the moment positively speechless.
“Permit me to introduce the decorating committee for the ball,” continued this bold young person. “The secretary has given the club over to us for two days. We have carte blanche, and no time to lose. Each apartment has its own allotted number of workers. This one represents our share,” looking round with the complacent eye of a proprietor. “Of course it will have to be thoroughly fumigated and ventilated; but I dare say it won’t make a bad tea-room.”
“Do you mean to say that we are to turn out?” demanded Colonel Sladen, “and to give up our smoking-room for this tomfoolery?”
“There will be no tomfoolery about the supper,” she retorted impressively. “I shall really be much obliged if you”—looking round and speaking authoritatively—“will all clear out.”
“Then I suppose we must fall back on the card-room,” growled Colonel Sladen, not displeased at thus securing an early rubber.