"Letting that shameless Betty Sheridan, a girl that had as sweet and
womanly a mother as Whitewater ever boasted, lead you around by the nose on
her suffrage string. A girl with her raising and both of her grandmothers
women that lived and died genteel, to go traipsing around in her low heels
in men's offices and addressing hoi polloi from soap boxes! Why, between
her and that female chauffeur, Mrs. Herrington, another woman whose mother
was of too fine feelings even to join the Delsarte class, the women of this
town are being influenced to making disgraceful--dis--oh, what shall I say,
Alys?"

Here Mrs. Smith broke in, thumping a soft fist into a soft palm.

"It's the most pernicious movement, Mr. Evans, that has ever got hold of
this community and we need a man like my cousin George Remington to--"

"But, Mrs. Smith, that's just what I--"

"To stamp it out! Stamp it out! It's eating into the homes of Whitewater,
trying to make breadwinners out of the creatures God intended for the
bread-eaters--I mean bread-bakers."

"But, Mrs. Smith, I--"

"Woman's place has been the home since home was a cave, and it will be the
home so long as women will remember that womanliness is their greatest
asset. As poor dear Mr. Smith was so fond of saying, he--I can't bring
myself to talk of him, Mr. Evans, but--but as he used to say, I--I--"

"Yes, yes, Mrs. Smith, I understa--"