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Jaffry donned his cap of homespun, ran down the steps and out the front walk, hopped into his eight-cylinder roadster, and was off down the street in a second. There was a sharp decisiveness about his exit, and about the sudden speed of his machine; all duly noted by Mrs. Brewster-Smith, who had gone so far as to move down the room to the front window and watch the performance with narrowed eyes.
She was further aware that he had, undoubtedly, reasons of his own for questioning her. He was always asking questions, anyway. Worse than a Chinaman. And for some reason perhaps because he was Martin Jaffry you always answered his questions. "Yes," said Betty. "She wants to pledge him to suffrage." "Umm! Yes, I see! You wouldn't be against that yourself, would you?" "Naturally not.
He had reached the window himself by this time, and the sentence was destined to remain forever unfinished. From the low, old-fashioned brick building on the northeast corner of Fountain Square, whose boarded eyes had stared blindly across toward the glittering orbs of its towering neighbor, the Jaffry Building, for six months, a series of great placards flared.
"No, no, Betty, you are being unjust to me again. I meant that that was what Martin Jaffry told me this morning. It isn't what I believe at all. I tell you my own deepest sentiments are exactly what yours are in this great cause which which " Painfully he became aware of his own futility. Miss Sheridan had ceased to blaze.
I must not rest one second longer in silence as an accessory. I shall denounce " "Yes, George, you shall denounce," exclaimed his partner. "But just whom yourself, that you did not warn Miss Eliot all day yesterday!" "Yes," cried Remington, "first of all, myself as a coward!" "All right. Next, then, your Uncle Martin Jaffry, who was earnestly trying to help you in the only way he knew how to help!
I'm secretary of the Second Ward Suffrage Club." "Umm! Yes, yes!" With which illuminating comment, Mr. Jaffry tapped on Penny Evans' door, opened it and entered. "Spare a minute?" he inquired. "Sure," said Penny; "two, ten! Take a chair." "No," replied Mr. Jaffry, "I won't take a chair. Think better on my feet. I'm in a bit of a quandary.
He was smartly dressed in a homespun Norfolk suit. He waved a cap of homespun in greeting. "Afternoon, ladies! Genevieve, a bachelor's admiration and respect! I hope that boy George has got sense enough to be proud of you. But they haven't at that age. They're all for themselves." "Oh no, Uncle Martin," cried Genevieve, "George is the most generous " Mr. Martin Jaffry flicked his cap. "All right.
The street sweeper was taking up the fragments of the shattered windows half an hour later, when Martin Jaffry found himself going rather aimlessly along Main Street with a feeling that the bottom had recently dropped out of things a sensation which, if the truth must be told, was greatly augmented by the fact that he hadn't yet breakfasted.
While Miss Betty Sheridan, for another scornful time, was rereading the well-thumbed copy of the Sentinel, her fine back arched like a prize cat's, George Remington in his small mahogany office adjoining, neck low and heels high, was codifying, over and over again, the small planks of his platform, stuffing the knot holes which afforded peeps to the opposite side of the issue with anti-putty, and planning a bombardment of his pattest phrases for the complete capitulation of his Uncle Jaffry.
The First National Bank has just declared a fifteen per cent. dividend, and Martin Jaffry owns fifty-four per cent. of the stock. "You don't want to put brakes on prosperity. It ain't decent citizenship to try it. It ain't neighborly. Think of the lean years we've known. You can't do it. This war won't last forever " Mr.
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