Mr. Wrangle looked at Mr. Tumbrill, and made a motion with his head, signifying that he should speak. Then Mr. Tumbrill looked at Mr. Wrangle, and made a motion that HE should speak. The people saw all this, and laughed and shouted as if they would never finish.
Mr. Wrangle, on second thoughts (this is my private surmise), saw that boldness would just then be popular; so he stepped forward.
“Do I understand,” he said, “that my fair and eloquent friend demands perfect political and civil equality for her sex?”
“I do!” exclaimed Selina Whiston, in her firmest manner.
“Let me be more explicit,” he continued. “You mean precisely the same rights, the same duties, the same obligations, the same responsibilities?”
She repeated the phrases over after him, affirmatively, with an emphasis which I never heard surpassed.
“Pardon me once more,” said Mr. Wrangle; “the right to vote, to hold office, to practise law, theology, medicine, to take part in all municipal affairs, to sit on juries, to be called upon to aid in the execution of the law, to aid in suppressing disturbances, enforcing public order, and performing military duty?”
Here there were loud cheers from the audience; and a good many voices cried out: “Got her there!” (Men are so very vulgar.)
Mrs. Whiston looked troubled for a moment, but she saw that a moment's hesitation would be fatal to our scheme, so she brought out her words as if each one were a maul-blow on the butt-end of a wedge:
“All—that—we—demand!”