Frank, who had just re-bandaged the injured limb, asked her what she meant.
“I’ve seen Aunt Juliet,” she said, “and I find that she’s quite dropped Christian Science and is frightfully keen on Woman’s Suffrage. That’s always the way with her. When she’s done with a thing she simply hoofs it without a word of apology to anyone. It was the same with the uric acid. She’d talk of nothing else in the morning and before night it was withered like the flower of the field upon the housetop, ‘whereof the mower filleth not his arm.’ I expect you know the sort I mean.”
She shut the door and Frank heard her running down the passage. A couple of minutes later he heard her running back again. This time she opened the door without tapping.
“I can’t think,” she said, “what Woman’s Suffrage can possibly have to do with the big gallery, but they must be mixed up somehow or Mrs. Geraghty and the housemaids wouldn’t be sporting about the way they are. They’re at it still. I’ve just looked in at them.”
During dinner the conversation was very largely political. Sir Lucius inveighed with great bitterness against the government’s policy in Ireland. Now and then he recollected that Frank’s father was a supporter of the government. Then he made such excuses for the Cabinet’s blundering as he could. Miss Lentaigne also condemned the government, though less for its incurable habit for truckling to the forces of disorder in Ireland, than for its cowardly and treacherous treatment of women. She made no attempt to spare Frank’s feelings. Indeed, she pointed many of her remarks by uncomplimentary references to Lord Torrington, Secretary of State for War, and the immediate chief of Mr. Edward Mannix, M.P. Lord Torrington, so the public understood, was the most dogged and determined opponent of the enfranchisement of women. He absolutely refused to receive deputations of ladies and had more than once said publicly that he was in entire agreement with a statement attributed to the German Emperor, by which the energies of women were confined to babies, baking and bazaars for church purposes. Miss Lentaigne scorched this sentiment with invective, and used language about Lord Torrington which was terrific. Her abandonment of the cause of Christian Science appeared to be as complete as the most enthusiastic general practitioner could desire. Frank was exceedingly uncomfortable. Priscilla was demure and silent.
When Miss Lentaigne, followed by Priscilla, left the room, Sir Lucius became confidential and friendly. He pushed the decanter of port towards Frank.
“Fill up your glass, my boy,” he said. “After your long day on the sea—— By the way I hope your aunt—I keep forgetting that she’s not your aunt—I hope she didn’t say anything at dinner to hurt your feelings. You mustn’t mind, you know. We’re all rather hot about politics in this country. Have to be with the way these infernal Leagues and things are going on. You don’t understand, of course, Frank. Nor does your father. If he did he wouldn’t vote with that gang. Your aunt—I mean to say my sister is—well, you saw for yourself. She usedn’t to be, you know. It’s only quite lately that she’s taken the subject up. And there’s something in it. I can’t deny that there’s something in it. She’s a clever woman. There’s always something in what she says. Though she pushes things too far sometimes. So does Torrington, it appears. Only he pushes them the other way. I think he goes too far, quite too far. Of course, my sister does too, in the opposite direction.”
Sir Lucius sighed.
“It’s all right, Uncle Lucius,” said Frank. “I don’t mind a bit. I’m not well enough up in these things to answer Miss Lentaigne. If father was here——”
“What’s that? Is your father coming here?”