“Who are they?”
“Major McDonald and his wife. He is Scotch, I believe. They married each other for their money, I hear, and then discovered that neither had any to speak of.”
The conversation was interrupted by Miss Brintnall, who was expressing her views on woman’s rights.
“In my opinion,” she said, “man is a cruel and despotic tyrant. He monopolizes the good things of this life, and only throws an occasional crumb to poor, ill-used women. Women, for the same work, are paid less than half as much as men. Take myself, for example. I work just as hard as the principal of my school, yet he gets three dollars to my one. Now, I want to know where is the justice of that?”
“Perhaps,” suggested Mr. Bower, “he has a wife and children to support. You haven’t, you know, Miss Brintnall. Of course, you couldn’t, you know,” he added, with a simper.
“I might have a husband and children to support, I suppose,” said Miss Brintnall, severely.
“If that is the case, Miss Brintnall,” said Mr. Ingalls, humorously, “you ought to let us know, that we may not cherish vain hopes.”
Miss Brintnall smiled; she generally did smile on Mr. Ingalls, who was a favorite of hers. Indeed, it was generally thought at the table that she would have had no objection to becoming Mrs. Ingalls, though the young man certainly had never given her any encouragement, save by such jocular remarks as the foregoing.
“You will have your joke, Mr. Ingalls,” she said good-humoredly; “but to return to my argument. Is there any one present that can deny the correctness of my statement, that man is a tyrant?”
“I can,” said little Mrs. Bower, indignantly. “My Theophilus isn’t a tyrant, are you, dear?”