"We should certainly require you to work for it. Suffrage for women is not a matter of sex. It's a question of common justice."
"At what salary did you say?" he asked after a thoughtful pause.
"One hundred dollars a month, and we pay the expense of publication," she answered.
Carter had never cleared a dollar as editor of the Signal. He could not even have supported himself if he had paid the interest on his mortgage. Still he hesitated. He was not sure that this offer did not mean the sale of his manhood, on the installment plan, at so much a month. He wondered what the men would think of this arrangement. His wit in the paper had long consisted in humorous comments upon the modern woman, and the Suffrage Movement in particular.
"Give me time to think it over," he said.
"Until to-morrow morning," she said, rising. "In case you accept the position we shall expect you at nine o'clock. There is some advertising stuff for the next issue, and I shall want to dictate an editorial."
"And if I do not accept?" he put in as she advanced toward the door.
"In that case we shall take charge of the Signal as soon as we can foreclose the mortgage," she answered without looking back.
"Er—good afternoon, Mrs. Walton!" he suddenly called after her.
"Good afternoon. Remember, promptly at nine o'clock!" she returned, still without looking back.