"I'm sorry. The women ought not to take the men's places. Can't you--"

"Oh, that's all right." Mr. Jernigan waved his hat toward her. "We done
our work before we come here. Ain't a man in the council what don't
know how we stand, and what we won't do for them is a plenty if they
don't tote square. You just go on in, Miss Cary--you and Mrs. Corbin."

As they entered the room there was much uprising and many seats were
offered, but with a nod here and there they made their way toward a
window near which Mrs. Webb and Mrs. Moon were sitting and took
two chairs which had been kept for them. To the left were Mrs. Brent
and Mrs. Burnham, to the right Miss Mittie Muncaster and Mrs. Dunn,
while behind was Miss Amelia Taylor, president of the Mother's Club,
with Miss Victor Redway, the new kindergarten teacher from Kentucky.
A dozen other women, scattered in groups here and there, were
whispering as if at a home funeral, and along the walls men, ranged in
rows, hats in hands, chewed with something of nervous uncertainty as to
the wisdom of the innovation which they were about to witness. In a
large chair on a small platform Mr. Chinn, president of the council,
sat in solemn silence, gavel in hand, waiting for the hour to strike,
and for once in its history all ten of the city fathers were on time
and in place.

"You may not mind this, Mary, but I do," said Mrs. Moon half under her
breath. "I'm not used to these new-fashioned ways of doing things. I
feel like I haven't got on all my clothes. I came because you told me I
ought to, and of course women should take interest in things of this
sort, but I don't like it. I--"

"Then you were dear to come." And Mary gave the soft, pretty hands a