since the world began to roll. Now, listen--you women that blistered
your hands clapping just now--how are you ever going to get at the
straight of this thing if you hug and kiss the men every time they
tell you that you are narrow between the eyes and haven't a thimbleful
of brains? Do you know what is at the bottom of it all? Why, nothing
but old-fashioned, green-eyed jealousy, as rank as stagnant water in a
swamp. The men don't _want_ you to get up-to-date. Up-to-date women
don't hop out of bed on a cold, frosty morning and make a blazing fire
for their lords and masters to dress by. Up-to-date women are not
willing to stand shoe-mouth deep in mud in a cow-lot milching a cow
and holding off a calf while their husbands are swapping tales at the
cross-roads store."

A laugh started and swept over the room. There was considerable
applause, both from the men and the women.

"Well, that's one thing I wouldn't do for narry man that ever wore
shoe-leather!" came from Mrs. Timmons, who seemed to think that
Dolly's fixed glance in her direction called for an open opinion.

Dolly smiled and nodded. "That is the right spirit, Mrs. Timmons," she
said. "So many robust men wouldn't have skinny-looking, consumptive
wives if they would draw the line at the cow-lot." Then she resumed
her speech:

"The masculine opinion that women haven't got much sense originated
away back in the history of the world. _We_ get it from the savages.
I'll tell you a tale. Among the Indians in the early days there was a
certain big chief. They called him Frog-in-the-face because his nose
looked like a toad upside down trying to crawl between his thick lips.