“Yes!  We ought to show up those Minneapolis folks!” Ella Stowbody said acidly.  “And oh, by the way, we must oppose this movement of Mrs. Potbury’s to have the state clubs come out definitely in favor of woman suffrage.  Women haven’t any place in politics.  They would lose all their daintiness and charm if they became involved in these horried plots and log-rolling and all this awful political stuff about scandal and personalities and so on.”

All—­save one—­nodded.  They interrupted the formal business-meeting to discuss Mrs. Edgar Potbury’s husband, Mrs. Potbury’s income, Mrs. Potbury’s sedan, Mrs. Potbury’s residence, Mrs. Potbury’s oratorical style, Mrs. Potbury’s mandarin evening coat, Mrs. Potbury’s coiffure, and Mrs. Potbury’s altogether reprehensible influence on the State Federation of Women’s Clubs.

Before the program committee adjourned they took three minutes to decide which of the subjects suggested by the magazine Culture Hints, Furnishings and China, or The Bible as Literature, would be better for the coming year.  There was one annoying incident.  Mrs. Dr. Kennicott interfered and showed off again.  She commented, “Don’t you think that we already get enough of the Bible in our churches and Sunday Schools?”

Mrs. Leonard Warren, somewhat out of order but much more out of temper, cried, “Well upon my word!  I didn’t suppose there was any one who felt that we could get enough of the Bible!  I guess if the Grand Old Book has withstood the attacks of infidels for these two thousand years it is worth our slight consideration!”

“Oh, I didn’t mean——­” Carol begged.  Inasmuch as she did mean, it was hard to be extremely lucid.  “But I wish, instead of limiting ourselves either to the Bible, or to anecdotes about the Brothers Adam’s wigs, which Culture Hints seems to regard as the significant point about furniture, we could study some of the really stirring ideas that are springing up today—­whether it’s chemistry or anthropology or labor problems—­the things that are going to mean so terribly much.”

Everybody cleared her polite throat.

Madam Chairman inquired, “Is there any other discussion?  Will some one make a motion to adopt the suggestion of Vida Sherwin—­to take up Furnishings and China?”

It was adopted, unanimously.

“Checkmate!” murmured Carol, as she held up her hand.

Had she actually believed that she could plant a seed of liberalism in the blank wall of mediocrity?  How had she fallen into the folly of trying to plant anything whatever in a wall so smooth and sun-glazed, and so satisfying to the happy sleepers within?

CHAPTER XII

One week of authentic spring, one rare sweet week of May, one tranquil moment between the blast of winter and the charge of summer.  Daily Carol walked from town into flashing country hysteric with new life.