“I’ve been spinning about in the maelstrom of business,” I replied. “But do not be uneasy; some time we shall take up the matter of inflicting ourselves, and pursue it as vigorously as we now follow our vocation.”
“Wouldn’t you like to get into the trap, and take a spin of another sort?” said she. “I’ll deposit you safely with Mrs. Barslow in time for tea.”
I got in, glad of the drive, and for ten minutes her horse was sent at such a pace that conversation was difficult. Then he was slowed down to a walk, his head toward home. We chatted of casual things—the scenery, the horse, the splendid color of the sunset. I was becoming interested in her.
“I had almost forgotten that there were such things in Lattimore,” said I, referring to the topics of our talk. “I have become so saturated with lands and lots.”
“I don’t know much about business,” said she, “and I think I’ll improve my opportunity by learning something. And, first, aren’t men sometimes losers by the dishonesty of those who act for them—agents, they are called, aren’t they?”
Such, I admitted, was unfortunately the case.
“I should be sorry for—any one I liked—to be injured in such a way.... Now you must understand how the things you men are interested in permeate the society of us women. Why, mamma has almost forgotten the enslavement of our sex, in these new things which have changed our old town so much; so you mustn’t wonder if I have heard something of a purely business nature. I heard that Captain Tolliver was about to sell Mr. Elkins the land where the old foundry is, over there, for twenty thousand dollars. Now, papa says it isn’t worth it; and I know—Sadie Allen and I were in school together, and she comes over from Fairchild several times a year to see me, and I go there, you know; and that land is in her father’s estate—I know that the executor has told Captain Tolliver to sell it for ever so much less than that. And it seemed so funny, as the Captain was doing the business for both sides—isn’t it odd, now?”
“It does seem so,” said I, “and it is very kind of you. I’ll talk with Mr. Elkins about it. Please be careful, Miss Hinckley, or you’ll drop the wheel in that washout!”
She reined up her horse and began speeding him again. I could see that this conversation had embarrassed her somehow. Her color was high, and her grip of the reins not so steady as at starting. This attempt to do Jim a favor was something she considered as of a good deal of consequence. I began to note more and more what a really splendid woman she was—tall, fair, her tailor-made gown rounding to the full, firm curves of her figure, her fearless horsemanship hinting at the possession of large and positive traits of character.
“We women,” said she, “might as well abandon all the things commonly known as feminine. What good do they do us?”