“I don’t care.... I’d rather be a turncoat than a—frump!”
“You don’t have to be——!”
“They are—most of them—!” said Annabel viciously.
“Why, Annabel—!” It was Eleanor’s voice. “Some of the nicest women are suffragists. I saw some very fine ones in the parade.”
Annabel turned indignant eyes on her.
“I saw one there! And I hope never to see her again!” She said it severely, and the family laughed out.
She nodded her head sagely under its tilting hat that came down well over one eye, and gave her a young and military look—as if she were winning her spurs.
“You may laugh!” she declared. “It’s no place for mother!”
“All right for you, I suppose?” suggested her father teasingly.
“I told you I’d got over it,” she said firmly.