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"Why," Mrs Cotterill said, "I could run this house without a servant and have myself tidy by ten o'clock in a morning." And Mrs Machin nodded. "And then when you want a regular turn-out, as you call it," said Denry, "there's the vacuum-cleaner." The vacuum-cleaner was at that period the last word of civilisation, and the first agency for it was being set up in Bursley.
CAMPAIGN. After the defeat of 1898 no amendment came before the Legislature for eleven years, nor was there any legislation on woman suffrage until a resolution to submit to the voters an amendment to the State constitution giving full suffrage was presented to the session of 1909. It was drafted by Senator George F. Cotterill of Seattle, a radical suffragist, after many conferences with Mrs.
She wanted to outpour psalms of gratitude, and also she wanted to curse. Mr Cotterill said stiffly that he should repay and that soon. An immense bell sounded impatiently. "We'd better be shunting," said Denry. "That's the second." In exciting crises he sometimes employed such peculiar language as this. And he was very excited. He had done a great deal of rushing about.
A shade thick, Cotterill, a shade thick. You might be half a dozen fashionable physicians rolled into one." Never before had he called the Councillor "Cotterill" unadorned. Me Cotterill flushed and rose. Denry does not appear to advantage in this interview. He failed in magnanimity.
The Cotterills had been spending a fortnight in the Isle of Man, and they had come direct from Douglas to Llandudno by steamer, where they meant to pass two or three days. They were staying at Craig-y-don, at the eastern end of the Parade. "Well, young man!" said Councillor Cotterill. And he kept on young-manning Denry with an easy patronage which Denry could scarcely approve of.
And during the final weeks the Cotterill family had been obliged to quit their dismantled house and exist in lodgings. Even Denry, though he had visited them in their lodgings to say good-bye, had not seen them off at the station; but Ruth Capron-Smith had seen them off at the station.
There existed a sympathetic bond between him and Mrs Cotterill, despite her prim taciturnity and her exasperating habit of sitting with her hands pressed tight against her body and one over the other. Occasionally he teased her and she liked being teased. He had glimpses now and then of her secret soul; he was perhaps the only person in Bursley thus privileged. Then there was Nellie.
The bedsteads were of black enamelled iron and very light. The floors were covered with linoleum, with a few rugs that could be shaken with one hand. The walls were painted with grey enamel. Mrs Cotterill, with her all-seeing eye, observed a detail that Mrs Machin had missed. There were no sharp corners anywhere.
Similarly with the greeting of a young woman who was once to you the jewel of the world. You simply said, "Good-afternoon, how are you?" And she said the same. And you shook hands. And there you were, still alive! The one defect of the dinner was that the men were not in evening dress. And after all there is nothing like white. Mrs Cotterill was in black silk and silence.
Instead of kicking Denry out of the house for an impudent young jackanapes, Mr Cotterill simply resumed his sheepish smile. Denry had been surprised for a moment, but he had quickly recovered. Cotterill's downfall was one of those events which any person of acute intelligence can foretell after they have happened.
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