Margaret was thinking, "Perhaps I can get Aunt Mary after him. That's her kind." She broached the subject to Mrs. Pennybacker that night.
"Talk to a Senator!" she exclaimed. "Why, Margaret, I never could do it in the world! My tongue would cleave to the roof of my mouth."
"Don't you believe it, Margaret," laughed Bess, "I've never seen grandma's tongue in that position yet, nor the man that could keep it there."
"You've never seen me in the presence of a Senator," retorted her grandmother, "except a mild type like Senator Dalgleish."
But in spite of her prompt declination she found herself dwelling much upon common sense reasons for the passage of this bill—reasons which might appeal to an elderly man amenable to homely truth. Not that she had any idea of ever using them. No, indeed! She knew her limitations. Her sphere was not lobbying!
But one day when Mrs. Greuze had come by for reinforcements to visit Senator Black, and Margaret was at Elmhurst, Mrs. Pennybacker put on her best bonnet and joined the crusade, taking Bess—who was frankly anxious to go—with her. "You will do for filling," she remarked to her granddaughter. "I may possibly say something, but I don't think I shall."
An audience had been arranged with the Senator and he received them most courteously. Seated in the District Committee room the ladies of the delegation presented quite an imposing appearance. Mrs. Greuze presented Mrs. Pennybacker and her granddaughter, remarking effectively that the Senator would see that this was a cause which enlisted the gray-haired and the rosy-cheeked alike. And the gray hairs nodded assent, while the rosy cheeks grew rosier as the great Senator's gaze rested upon them.
The speakers for this occasion had been decided upon beforehand and the particular line of argument that each should take up. They were lucid, forcible arguments presented by people who knew how. The Senator gave most respectful heed to them.
In all this discussion Bess had, of course, taken no part. Her office was purely decorative—a function which she fulfilled, it may be said in passing, as fully and fragrantly as do the lilies of the field. The elderly Senator, whose sight was not yet obscured, found his attention wandering from the logical arguments of Mrs. Greuze to the sweet face that blossomed at her side. Perhaps there might have been a lurking thought in the minds of these wise sisters that it would be so—that the sweet innocence and beauty of her youthful femininity might prove a solvent for hearts callous to the logic of more angular maturity.
Just now Bess was taking an almost childish interest in the committee-room, with its luxurious appointments and its vaulted ceiling with the Brumidi frescoes. She had always supposed a committee-room was bare. The Senator found his eyes turning to her frequently. She was a sweet fresh blossom!... And when he spoke she looked at him reverently—being young—as though his utterances were the oracles of God. Secure in her belief that she was only there to swell the numbers and had no part to play, she was divested of all self-consciousness and played it to perfection.