"We are not here, Senator," Mrs. Allaine replied quickly, "to argue a question of expediency, but of right. You will not deny that it should be lawful for a woman to earn her bread in any honest way, even if it be not expedient."
The Senator fell back upon platitudes. "Man is the natural bread-winner," he asserted with a trace—just a trace—of patronage. "It is the privilege of the strong to provide for the weak."
"In these days of late marriages," retorted Mrs. Allaine with a laugh, "men seem rather reluctant to claim their privileges. And in the meantime a woman must provide for herself and those dependent upon her or go to the wall. Suppose such a woman should ask you to show cause why she should not do it in her own way, what would you tell her? Or supposing even that it is not a question of support. She has a life on her hands which must be filled with something. What would you advise her to turn to?"
The Senator was not ready with his answer to this question, and a small lady with very bright black eyes occupied his time.
"George William Curtis says tell her that God has given her the nursery, the ball-room, and the opera; and that, if these fail, he has graciously provided the kitchen, the washtub, and the needle."
The Senator emerged from the laugh that followed, not to answer the question put to him but to say, "I am not yet convinced, ladies, that it is the wish of the majority of the women of this District that this bill should become a law."
"Our delegation represents five thousand women," protested Mrs. Allaine.
"I will admit that this is a large and representative delegation," said the Senator, with a complimentary wave of his hand, "but even five thousand is a small part of the women of the District. Where are the ninety and nine that do not come forward?"
"Many of them, Senator, are too ignorant to realize their own wrongs or to know that there is any redress for them. It is because of that very ignorance and helplessness that we are here to plead for them."
"And yet it is true, as Senator Southard says," said Mrs. Greuze, "and we may as well admit it, that too many women are apathetic about these things. I was once myself. I say it with shame and confusion of face, for I see things very differently now; but I had always had all the rights I wanted and did not know how many people there were in the world who were not so fortunate as I. One third of the women don't know that these things exist, because they have never been touched by them, and another third don't care. It is left for a very small remnant—not a third, though they will be a third some day—who both know and care, to straighten things out."