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Updated: July 13, 2025
They made-believe. Carol was stimulated to cry: "Let's form a dramatic club and give a play! Shall we? It's been so much fun tonight!" They looked affable. "Sure," observed Sam Clark loyally. "Oh, do let us! I think it would be lovely to present 'Romeo and Juliet'!" yearned Ella Stowbody. "Be a whale of a lot of fun," Dr. Terry Gould granted.
Somewhat too late she remembered that she had given up domesticity and repentance. "Let's play charades!" said Raymie Wutherspoon. "Oh yes, do let us," said Ella Stowbody. "That's the caper," sanctioned Harry Haydock. They interpreted the word "making" as May and King. The crown was a red flannel mitten cocked on Sam Clark's broad pink bald head. They forgot they were respectable.
Even the millionaire Dawsons and Ezra Stowbody and "Professor" George Edwin Mott danced, looking only slightly foolish; and by rushing about the room and being coy and coaxing to all persons over forty-five, Carol got them into a waltz and a Virginia Reel.
They pay what they want to for our wheat, but we pay what they want us to for their clothes. Stowbody and Dawson foreclose every mortgage they can, and put in tenant farmers. The Dauntless lies to us about the Nonpartisan League, the lawyers sting us, the machinery-dealers hate to carry us over bad years, and then their daughters put on swell dresses and look at us as if we were a bunch of hoboes.
A tilted writing-shelf against a wall rubbed black and scattered with official notices and army recruiting-posters. The damp, yellow-brick schoolbuilding in its cindery grounds. The State Bank, stucco masking wood. The Farmers' National Bank. An Ionic temple of marble. Pure, exquisite, solitary. A brass plate with "Ezra Stowbody, Pres't." A score of similar shops and establishments.
Though they had all been certain that they longed for the privilege of attending committee meetings and rehearsals, the dramatic association as definitely formed consisted only of Kennicott, Carol, Guy Pollock, Vida Sherwin, Ella Stowbody, the Harry Haydocks, the Dave Dyers, Raymie Wutherspoon, Dr. Terry Gould, and four new candidates: flirtatious Rita Simons, Dr. and Mrs.
"There hasn't been much labor trouble around here, has there, Mr. Stowbody?" she asked innocently. "No, ma'am, thank God, we've been free from that, except maybe with hired girls and farm-hands. Trouble enough with these foreign farmers; if you don't watch these Swedes they turn socialist or populist or some fool thing on you in a minute.
He was gossiping with Sam Clark, Luke Dawson, Jackson Elder of the planing-mill, Chet Dashaway, Dave Dyer, Harry Haydock, and Ezra Stowbody, president of the Ionic bank. Ezra Stowbody was a troglodyte. He had come to Gopher Prairie in 1865. He was a distinguished bird of prey swooping thin nose, turtle mouth, thick brows, port-wine cheeks, floss of white hair, contemptuous eyes.
Besides, if these shiftless folks realize they're getting charity, and not something to which they have a right, they're so much more grateful." "Besides," snorted Miss Ella Stowbody, "they've been fooling you, Mrs. Kennicott. There isn't any real poverty here. Take that Mrs.
That's how they get us! Encourage us to be thrifty and own our own houses, and then, by golly, they've got us; they know we won't dare risk everything by committing lez what is it? lez majesty? I mean they know we won't be hinting around that if we had a co-operative bank, we could get along without Stowbody.
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