Page:McClure's Magazine v9 n3 to v10 no2.djvu/442

64 "As I expected, the lower classes are solid for—my opponent. It is a bitter thing to run against such a woman. It will be more bitter to be defeated by her."

"You must not be."

"I cannot help it. How can I get such votes?"

Darrach shrugged his shoulders.

"Put up more money," he said, coldly, but in a low tone.

"Ah," said Mrs. Dawson, with deep contempt. "It is dishonorable—disgusting! Sell my birthright for a mess of pottage?"

"Nonsense," said Darrach. He turned and smiled at her. "Am I to be disappointed in you? Have I not guided you with a careful hand through dangers and pitfalls? Have I not helped you to success? It is wrong to spend money for such a purpose—I confess it, of course. We want all that changed. We can change it only by getting good women into power. We can get them into power only through money. We must ourselves stoop at first, to elevate politics eventually. Mrs. Dawson, you owe it to the State—to your country—you owe it to yourself—to sacrifice your noble principles and ideals this time, in view of the powerful reform you, and such women as you, can bring about in politics, once you are in power."

He turned the horses into a long, locust-bordered lane. At the end of it was a large, white farm-house. A woman sat on the front steps. She was tall and thin. Her face and hands were wrinkled and harsh. Her eyes were narrow and faded. Her sandy hair, gray in places, was brushed straight back from her face, and wound in a knot with painful tightness. She sat with her sharp elbows on her knees, her chin sunk in her palms.

She arose with a little country flurry of embarrassment at their approach. She stood awkwardly, looking at them, keeping her shabbily clad feet well under her scant skirt.

"Are you the lady who wishes to borrow money on a farm?" asked Darrach.

"Yes," she said, "I be." She did not change her expression. Her only emotion seemed to be excessive self-consciousness. She put her hands behind her to feel if her apron-strings were tied. Then she rested her right elbow in her left hand, and began to smooth her hair nervously with her right hand. "Yes, I want to git $500 on this here farm. Land knows it's worth twicet thet."

"Yes," said Darrach, politely.

"It is too bad to mortgage it" said Mrs. Dawson, feeling a sudden pity. "Is it absolutely necessary?"

"Yes," said the woman, closing her thin lips together firmly; "my mind's set. My man's one o' them kind o' easy-goin's thet you can't never git worked up to the pitch o' doin' anythin'. I'm tired of it. We've set here on this here place sence we crossed the plains, an' we ain't got anythin' but land an' stawk an' farm machin'ry. We ain't got a buggy, ner a drivin' horse, ner a side-saddle; we ain't got 'n org'n, ner a fiddle, ner so much's a sewin'-machine—an' him a-gettin' new rakes, an' harrers, an' drills, an' things ev'ry year, all of 'em with seats to ride on. I ain't even got a washin'-machine!"

"But why do you mortgage your farm?" asked Mrs. Dawson, quietly.

"Because I've got my dose," said the woman, fiercely. "The place's in my name, an' now thet we've got our rights, I'm goin' to move to town. I'll show him! I'll git a job 's street commish'ner—er somepin. He can let the place out er run it hisself, jist 's he's a mind, but I'm goin' to take that money an' hire a house 'n town an' buy furniture. My mind's set. I didn't sense what a fool I be tell we got our rights. If he'd a half give me my rights afore, I'd give him his'n now; but I've got the whip-hand, an' I guess I'll git even. He never even let me hev the hen money—consarn his ugly picter!"

"Oh, I am sure it is wrong to mortgage your farm," said Mrs. Dawson, looking distressed. "Your husband must have trusted you, or he would not have put it in your name."

The woman laughed harshly, but without mirth.

"Oh, I've played my game cute," she said. "I've schemed and laid low. Back 'n Kanzus we hed a fine place out 'n the rollin' kentry, all 'n his name, an' he made me sign a mortgage on 't to buy machin'ry with—said he'd leave me 'f I didn't, an' the hull place went. Mebbe I ain't worked to lay his sphish'uns, though! Mebbe I ain't laid awake nights a-plannin' to git this place 'n my name! Mebbe I didn't git it, too!"

"But will he sign the mortgage?" asked Darrach.

"He'll hev to." She spoke with something like a snarl. "If he don't—I'll do what he threatened me with back 'n Kanzus! I'll leave him!" Her tone was terrible now.