“Ah,” replied her husband, with fond optimism, “you need not say ‘If I were a man,’ for that. It is the women who have the influence; don’t you know that, Mary?”
Mary looked down at her work, an incredulous smile playing about her lips.
“Well, my dear?” Bertrand loved a response.
“Well, Bertrand? Men do like to talk about our ‘sweet influence,’ don’t they?” Then she laughed outright.
“But, Mary––but, Mary, it is true. Women do more with their influence than men can do with their guns,” and Bertrand really meant what he said. Dusky shadows filled the room, but if the light had been stronger, he would have seen that little ironical smile still playing about his wife’s lips.
“Did you see Judge Logan again about those Waupaca lots?”
Bertrand wondered what the lots had to do with the subject, but suffered the digression patiently, for the feminine mind was not supposed to be coherent. “Yes, my love; I saw him yesterday.”
“What did you do about them? I hope you refused.”
“No, my dear. I thought best not. He showed me very conclusively that in time they will be worth more––much more––than the debt.”
“Then why did he offer them to you for the debt? The portrait you painted for him will be worth more, too, in time, than the debt. You remember when you asked me what I thought, I said we needed the money more now.”