Part 32 (2/2)

”Perfect nonsense,” Tom growled. ”There's no more call for you to give up your business than for Malcolm his. Perfectly absurd.”

”But oh, how fine--how fine of you, Ruth!” exclaimed Elise.

”You shan't do it. You shan't,” I e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed.

”Don't all make a mistake, please,” said Ruth. ”It is no sacrifice.

There's no unselfishness about it, no fine altruism. I'm staying because I want to. I'm happier here. Can't any of you understand that?” she asked. There was a quality in her voice that made us all glance at her sharply. There was a look in her eyes which reminded me of her as she had appeared in the suffrage parade. This sister of mine had evidently seen another vision. If it had made her cheeks a little pale, it had more than made up for it in the exalted tone of her voice and expression of her eyes.

”You say you're happier here?” asked Elise. ”Weren't you happy then, down there in New York, Ruth?”

”Yes, for a while. But you see my life was like a circle uncompleted. In keeping trimmed the lights of a home even though not my own, even only for a short period, I am tracing in, ever so faintly, the yawning gap.”

”Gap! But Ruth, we thought----”

She flushed a little in spite of herself. We were all staring hard at her. ”You see,” she went on, ”I've never been needed before as I have this summer. A home has never depended upon me for its life before. I've liked it. I don't see why you're so surprised. It's natural for a woman to want human ties. Contentment has stolen over me with every little common task I have had to do.”

”But, Ruth,” I stammered, ”we never thought that this--housekeeping--such menial work as this, was meant for _you_.”

”Nor love and devotion either, I suppose,” she said a little bitterly, ”nor the protection of a fireside,” she shrugged. ”Such rewards are not given without service, I've heard. And service paid by love does not seem menial to me.”

Tom laid down his hat upon the table, and leaned forward. He had been observing Ruth keenly. I saw the flash of victory in his eye. Tom had never been in sympathy with Ruth's emanc.i.p.ation ideas, and I saw in her desire for a home and intimate a.s.sociations the crumbling of her strongest defense against his disapproval. I wished I could come to her aid. Always my sympathies had instinctively gone out to her in the controversies that her theories gave rise to. Would Tom plant at last his flag upon her long-defended fortress?

”This is odd talk for you, Ruth,” said Tom.

”Is it?” she inquired innocently. Did she not observe Tom calling together his forces for a last charge?

”Certainly,” he replied. ”You gave up home, love, devotion--all that, when you might have had it, years ago. You emanc.i.p.ated yourself from the sort of service that is paid by the protection of a fireside.”

”Well?” she smiled, unalarmed.

”You see your mistake now,” he hurried on. ”You make your mad dash for freedom, and now come seeking shelter. That is what most of 'em do. You tried freedom and found it lacking.”

”And what is your conclusion, Tom?” asked Ruth, baring herself, it seemed to me, to the onslaught of Tom's opposition.

”My conclusion! Do I need even to state it?” he inquired, as if flouris.h.i.+ng the flag before sticking its staff into the pinnacle of Ruth's defense. ”Is it not self-evident? If you had married five years ago, today you would have a permanent family of your own instead of a borrowed one for eight months. Your freedom has robbed you of what you imply you desire--a home, I mean. My conclusion is that your own history proves that freedom is a dangerous thing for women.”

Ruth answered Tom quietly. I thrilled at her mild and gentle manner. We all listened intently.

”Tom,” she said slowly and with conviction, ”my own history proves just the opposite. The very fact that I do feel the deficiencies of freedom, is proof that it has not been a dangerous tool. If it had killed in me the home instinct, then I might concede that your fears were justified, but if, as you say, most women do not rove far but come home in answer to their heart's call, then men need not fear to cut the leash.” With some such words Ruth pulled Tom's flag from out her fortress where he had planted it. As Tom made no reply she went on talking. ”Once I had no excuse for existence unless I married. My efforts were narrowed to that one accomplishment. I sought marriage, desperately, to escape the stigma of becoming a superfluous and unoccupied female. Today if I marry it will be in answer to my great desire, and, whether married or not, a broader outlook and a deeper appreciation are mine. I believe that working hard for something worth while pays dividends to a woman always. If I never have a home of my own,” Ruth went on, ”and I may not--spinsters,” she added playfully, ”like the poor must always be with us--at least I have a trade by which I can be self-supporting. I'm better equipped whatever happens. Oh, I don't regret having gone forth.

No, Tom, pioneers must expect to pay. I'm so convinced,” she burst forth eagerly, ”that wider activities and broader outlooks for women generally are a wise thing, that if I had a fortune left me I would spend it in establis.h.i.+ng trade-schools in little towns all over the country, like the Carnegie libraries, so that all girls could have easy access to self-support. I'd make it the custom for girls to have a trade as well as an education and athletic and parlor accomplishments. I'd unhamper women in every way I knew how, give them a training to use modern tools, and then I'd give them the tools. They won't tear down homes with them. Don't be afraid of that. Instinct is too strong. They'll build better ones.”

My brother shook his head. ”I give you up, Ruth, I give you up,”

he said.

”Don't do that,” she replied. ”I'm like so many other girls in this age.

Don't give us up. We want you. We need your conservatism to balance and steady. We need our new freedom guided and directed. We're the new generation, Tom. We're the new spirit. There are hundreds--thousands--of us. Don't give us up.” I seemed to see Ruth's army suddenly swarming about her as she spoke, and Ruth, starry-eyed and victorious, standing on the summit in their midst.

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