Mr. Steadman went on blithely:
"I am old fashioned enough to want my wife to stay at home. I like to find her there when I come home. I don't want her to sit in Parliament; she hasn't time—for one thing."
Mrs. Steadman sat in front, with the purple plume in her hat nodding its approval:
"And I say it in all kindness to all women—they havn't the ability. They have ability of their own, but not that kind. Parliaments are concerned with serious, big things. This year, the program before our Provincial Parliament, is Good Roads. We want every part of this Province to enjoy the blessing of of good roads, over which they can bring their produce to market, binding neighborhoods together in the ties of friendship. Good roads for everyone is our policy."
"Now what do women know about making roads? They are all right to go visiting over the roads after they are built, but how much good would they be in building them?"
This was greeted with another scattered rattle of laughter, followed by a silence, which indicated intense listening. Even the restless edging of the platform knew something was happening, and listened.
"Our Opposition is coming forward with a foolish program of fads and fancies. They want the women to have the vote; they want to banish the bar! They want direct legislation. These are all radical measures, new, untried and dangerous. With women voting, I have no sympathy, as I said. They are not fitted for it. It is not that I do not love women—I do—I love them too well—most of them."
He paused a moment here—but no one laughed. The audience did not believe him.
"There are some women in the city whom I would gladly send to jail. They are upsetting women's minds, and hurting the homes. Don't let us take any chances on destroying the home, which is the bulwark of the nation. What sight is more beautiful then to see a mother, queen of the home, gathering her children around her. She can influence her husband's vote—her son's vote.—she has a wider and stronger influence than if she had the vote to herself. Her very helplessness is her strength. And besides, I know that the best women, the very best women do not want to sit in Parliament. My wife does not want to—neither did my mother—no true woman wants to, only a few rattle-brained, mentally unbalanced freaks—who do not know what they want."
Pearl smiled at this. She had heard this many times.