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Updated: June 11, 2025
Do you know what he means, Selah, sending for the oldest and ugliest and the youngest and fairest woman in Jordantown to meet him in his office at this outrageous hour of the afternoon?" "How do you do, Mrs. Walton?" Selah greeted. "I don't do at all, my dear; I'm tired of doing. I should be taking my nap!"
Judge Regis stood with his silk hat perfectly level upon his head, his cane tucked under his arm, and he was looking over the spread sheet of the Jordantown Signal very much as if he stared at an enemy over the top of an impregnable fortification. In front of him Colonel Marshall Adams pranced like an old bird kicking his wings. His hat and coat lay upon the pavement.
If anything could have added to the crowds which gathered in Jordantown every year on this day, these impudent circulars were calculated to do it. "Election plans! by gad!" exclaimed Squire Deal when he found one of the obnoxious bills posted on the door of the little courtroom in Possum Trot. "Who said there was going to be an election, I'd like to know.
The entire front page was taken up with an advertisement of the Women's Coöperative Store. The quality of everything was the best. The prices quoted were far below what they had ever been before in Jordantown. But that which paralyzed the whole male population in the square was this announcement at the top of the editorial page: Owned and Controlled By the Co-Citizens' Foundation.
The former have the overwhelming advantage, owing to the fact that they create their own public opinion and hold the balance of power, prestige, and influence. This was precisely the balance which had been destroyed in Jordantown. The women now had all the advantage. It was monstrous and called for the exercise of all the furnace language of which men are naturally capable.
This was Thaddeus Bailey. He owned three grocery stores in Jordantown, and had a monopoly on that trade. "I don't know how much money you have on deposit, Thad, but it will take more stock than you own to satisfy that mortgage you owe to this new-fangled female suffrage fund," answered his neighbour. "What'll we do with her if we elect her?" asked Acres.
"She's dead! it was her spirit that brushed my face just now!" "No, it was the canary. The cage is empty," said the gardener. "I tell you the thing I felt was white!" cried the woman. "Felt! If you'd looked, you'd have seen it was that green canary!" persisted the man. This was the beginning of a great whispering uproar in Jordantown, of violent curiosity and anxious speculation.
He was known as a jolly, blarney-tongued, slovenly wit, who for a consideration managed the political affairs of Jordantown and the county in a manner which was agreeable to the "deities" already mentioned, who were not willing to do all the things in this business that must be done. He was accustomed to call himself the "servant of the people." And naturally they paid for his services.
The reason they do is because so far they have never had the opportunity to lead. The present situation in Jordantown afforded this opportunity. Women were rarely seen now upon the square, but the avenue literally teemed with men. They crowded the aisles of the stores; they blocked the sidewalks. Only the victims held aloof.
For the first time social lines in Jordantown disappeared. The banker's wife walked down the steps of the Woman's Building arm in arm with the grocer's wife. In their first stages of growth all political movements are divinely democratic. It is not until the thing has been reduced to a working formula that some boss seizes the formula and the tyrannies of monarchical methods begin.
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