Sasnett looked at him so quickly that even his smile scarcely veiled the shrewdness of his glance.
"Waiting for the women to settle Mike Prim," he answered. "If they don't, you fellows may elect him. Mike's so deep rooted in your affairs a man couldn't dig him up without soiling his hands."
"Think the women can?"
"Not a doubt of it if they get wise to him, and they are so naïvely unscrupulous, bless their hearts, that they'll do some things to accomplish their purpose a man can't afford to do."
"And if they settle Mike, you'll run on the crinoline ticket, I suppose?" Coleman answered.
"Can't say yet, Stark; don't want to give myself away, but I'm buying my collars at the Co-Citizens' Coöperative League Emporium!" he said, winking his eye and drawing up the corner of his mouth in a most offensive manner.
This reference to the women's coöperative store was far from being a joke.
The first floor of the old Mosely residence had been divided in half with a partition. The walls between the rooms on each side had been fitted up in a modern and expensive manner with shelves and counters, middle-aisle showcase, and so forth. The right-hand division was a drygoods and millinery department, with such a display of hats and finery as never had been seen before in Jordantown. The left division contained everything necessary to thrifty existence, from horse collars to hams, sugar and molasses, flour and corn meal.
The upper rooms of the house were used as offices for the female trustees of the Fund, and for the various committees, of which there were an amazing number in order that as many women as possible should have prominent and executive relations to the Co-Citizens' movement.
The whole front of the place was ablaze every night with electric signs. "The Co-Citizens' League Headquarters," winked across the front of the upper story. Beneath that "The Women's Coöperative Department Stores" winked in blue, red, and white light splendour.