John and Jim closed the office and walked to the station in silence. Even in the close proximity of the suburban train they exchanged only a few desultory remarks.
Lucy had hardly put on her dry clothes and returned downstairs after her walk when John’s key was heard in the front door.
“Come in,” he said to Jim.
The two men hung their rain coats on the hat tree and John led the way to the dining room. Lucy, who was seated by a window, rose at their entrance.
“Well, Lucy, I concluded I’d turn myself into a surprise party. I told John not to phone out,” Jim declared. “I thought you were sick abed.”
“No. I’m feeling better this evening,” she replied rather coldly, shaking hands.
“Good evening, Mr. Sprague. What a nice surprise for Lucy! I hope you weren’t worried about her.” Nannie came forward.
“Good evening, Mrs. Merwent,” returned Jim, ignoring her observations. His perplexed gaze followed Lucy as he looked over her mother’s head.
“Where’s Dimmie?” he inquired at last.
“He has gone to the Hamiltons’. He’s getting to be quite a runabout.” Nannie proffered the information.
“Kin I put dinnah on right away, Miss Nannie?” asked Katy, coming to the door.
“Wait a minute, Katy,” replied Mrs. Merwent. “You must put an extra plate on.” Then, addressing John and Jim, “Shall I mix you two some of Mr. Sprague’s near cocktails before you eat?”
“Not for me, Mrs. Merwent, thank you,” Jim refused hastily.
“Well, let me make one for you, anyway, John,” she urged.
“All right, Nannie. I don’t mind if you do.”
“Then, come into the kitchen while I fix it.” John followed her.
“I invited myself out,” Jim remarked to Lucy, when they were alone. “I was worried about you. And John told me on the train you had a fainting spell and the doctor had to be called in.”
“It wasn’t serious,” Lucy explained impassively. “I was a little nervous and unstrung. That’s all.”
“Well, that’s enough,” asserted Jim grimly.
“It’s not an uncommon female failing,” said Lucy.
Jim regarded her so long without speaking that she flushed under his scrutiny.
“There’s no use trying to deceive me, Lucy. Your looks tell that you’ve been through something serious.”
“There’s no use in trying anything, Jim.” Her tone was new to him.
“Lucy!” he exclaimed. “You know that I—”
John and Nannie came in and Jim stopped speaking.
“You can serve dinner now, Katy,” Mrs. Merwent called as she left the kitchen.
The family were soon seated at the table.
“You’re quite a stranger, Mr. Sprague,” Nannie began.
“Yes, Mrs. Merwent,” said Jim stiffly.
“We have spoken of you so often. Haven’t we, Lucy?” Mrs. Merwent turned to her daughter.
Jim interrupted before Lucy could reply.
“Business is very engrossing, Mrs. Merwent. We have new competition. A lady architect has rented offices in the same building with us.”
“You must mean the lady architect is very engrossing, Mr. Sprague,” smiled Nannie. “You seem to have quite forgotten poor Lucy and me—though of course I don’t count.”
“The lady architect is designing small houses too rapidly to leave either herself or me time for personal interests,” responded Jim.
“Well, I think she might be better employed than in trying to compete with men in business,” declared Nannie vigorously. “I don’t believe in women earning their own living. The woman’s place is in the home.”
“Why, more than the man’s?” Jim questioned.
John answered for her.
“Because she’s not fitted by nature to compete with men.”
“Our new competitor has gotten four contracts this month right under our nose.” Jim smiled slightly.
“That’s only because she’s a sort of novelty. It won’t last.” There was no lightness in John’s manner.
“Well, according to Layard’s she’s been at it for six years, and made enough in a small place to enable her to break into big-city practice, just as we did.”
“A woman can’t attend to her home and her children and be in business,” persisted John.
“This one’s got neither, being unmarried, and there are thousands of others in the same fix.” Jim warmed to his subject. “If a man wants money and success, he’s free to get out and go after them, and I fail to see why a woman hasn’t the same right. I don’t see why she lowers herself any more than by living on charity.”
“Like me and Lucy,” put in Mrs. Merwent quickly.
“I don’t mean every woman,” said Jim. “You know what I mean, Lucy. You and I have discussed it a dozen times. What’s the use of insisting a woman’s place is in the home whether she has any home or not, or whether she and her children have enough to make them comfortable or not?”
Lucy did not answer.
“Woman’s place is in the home because she has the babies and man doesn’t,” John asserted again.
“I don’t see that she has them any more than the man does,” retorted Jim.
“You don’t? Well, I don’t think you’d find many women to agree with you!” John’s tone was finely sarcastic.
“Don’t you think that woman’s influence is destroyed when she becomes masculine, Mr. Sprague?” parried Nannie, looking at John.
“What do you mean by masculine?” queried Jim sharply. “It used to be that a woman had to turn all her money over to her husband when she married. Now she can hold on to at least some of it. Is she any less attractive? If she has a voice in the making of the laws that govern her and her children, will she become coarsened by it? Why don’t you help me out, Lucy? You know more about it than I do.”
“I had rather not discuss the subject,” objected Lucy coldly, her eyes downcast.
“I think she is wise,” approved John, “since you only care to ridicule and sneer at opinions other than your own.”
“Nonsense, John. I wasn’t ridiculing you or anybody else. But that stuff about woman’s place in the home is medieval. What a decent woman wants is less chivalry and more real respect and consideration.”
“Then you don’t believe that women should expect politeness and deference from men at all?” insinuated Nannie.
“Well, I don’t exactly believe in fighting with
