"It does not appeal to me," he said, "not as outlined by you. It's too sodden, too deeply selfish. I see no reason for any man who has a fairly decent, self-respecting job, to give it up and devote his time to politics, if you have given me a correct picture of it."
The organizer became deeply in earnest:—
"Look here, Clay," he said, "don't be hasty. I'm telling you the truth about things, that's all. You can be as full of moral passion as you like—the fuller the better. The Opposition can always be the Simon-pure reformers. I'm not discouraging you—in fact, we want you to be that."
The doctor interrupted him, impatiently:—
"But I must not expect anything to come of it. Moral reform—and all that—is fine for election dope, but governments have no concern with it, these promises would not be carried out."
"I am not saying what we mean," said Mr. Summersad, with abundant caution; "I say we want to defeat the Government—that's our business. We want to get in—further than that we have no concern. The new Premier will set our policy. But if you ask me my opinion, I do not mind telling you that I don't think any government of men are very keen on letting the women vote—why should they be? But there's always a way out. What will happen is this—if our fellows get in, they will grant a plebiscite, men only voting of course, and it will go strong against the women—but that will let us out."
The doctor's eyes snapped:—
"That's surely a coward's way out," he said, "and why should any woman have to ask for what is her right. Women, although they are not so strong as men, do more than half the work, and bear children besides, and yet men have been mean enough to snatch the power away from them and keep it. Well, you have certainly been frank, Mr. Summersad, I must thank you for that. I will be equally frank. I do not see that there is anything to choose between the two parties. If your presentation of the case is correct, the country is in a bad way, and the political life is a re-incarnation of that fine old game of 'pussy wants a corner!' I never did see much in it, so I will decline the nomination. I am sorry, Mr. Gilchrist," he said to the local President. His words had a ring of finality.
When the committee were leaving they met Miss Keith, of Hampton, on the street. Miss Keith was worth looking at, with her white fox furs, high-heeled shoes and long black ear-rings. Miss Keith carried a muff as big as a sheaf of wheat, and a sparkling bead-bag dangled from her wrist. Miss Keith's complexion left nothing to be desired. When she passed the committee there came to them the odor of wood violets. The committee were sufficiently interested to break into a group on the corner and so be able to turn around and watch her, without appearing to stop for that purpose.
She went into the doctor's office.