The rest of them were used to Julie's views; but Pop, who had paid little heed to them, almost collapsed from his chair. Julie went on:
"Men are all alike, Mère. They're very soft-spoken when they come to make love; but it's only a bluff to make us give up our freedom. Before we know it they drag us up before another man, a preacher, and make us swear to love, honor, and obey. They kill the love, make the honor impossible, and the obey ridiculous. Then they coop us up at home and expect us to let them run the world to suit themselves. They've been running it for thousands of years—and look at the botch they've made of it! It's time for us to take the helm."
"Go to it, sis," said Ethelwolf. "I care not who makes the laws so long as I can break them."
"Let your sister alone!" said Mère. "Go on, Julie!"
"I've put it all in the address I read before the Federation last week," said Julie. "It was reported at length in one of the papers. I've got a clipping in my handbag here somewhere."
She began to rummage through a little condensed chaos of handkerchiefs, gloves, powder-puff, powdery dollar bills, powdery coins, loose bits of paper, samples, thread, pins, buttons—everything—every-whichway.
J. Pennock laughed. "Pipe what's going to run the world! Better get a few pockets first."
"Don't be a brute, Pen!" said Mère.
At last Julie found the clipping she sought and, shaking the powder from it, handed it to her mother.
"It's on the strength of this speech that I was elected delegate to the international convention at San Francisco," she said.