And how
ardently did she hail the coolness growing between him and Polly, the
little rift in the lute, and how zealously did she labor to make it larger.
Polly and Royal had had many an argument on the subject, that is, he would
begin by makin' fun of the Suffragists and their militant doin's, which if
he'd thought on't wuz sunthin' like what his old revolutionary forbears
went through for the same reasons, bein' taxed without representation, and
bein' burdened and punished by the law they had no voice in making, only
the Suffragettes are not nearly so severe with their opposers, they haven't
drawed any blood yet. Why, them old Patriots we revere so, would consider
their efforts for freedom exceedingly gentle and tame compared to their own
bloody battles.
And Royal would make light of the efforts of college girls to help workin'
girls, and the encouragement and aid they'd gin 'em when they wuz strikin'
for less death-dealin' hours of labor, and livin' wages, and so forth. I
don't see how such a really noble young man as Royal ever come to argy that
way, but spoze it wuz the dead hand of some rough onreasonable old ancestor
reachin' up out of the shadows of the past and pushin' him on in the wrong
direction.
So when he begun to ridicule what Polly's heart wuz sot on, when she felt
that he wuz fightin' agin right and justice, before they knowed it both
pairs of bright eyes would git to flashin' out angry sparks, and hash words
would be said on both sides.
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