LIST OF CHAPTERS

FOREWORD

"Chimerical!" the average man will exclaim when he reads the title of this book.

"But why not?" his wife will answer.

"Worth trying," the reformers and philanthropists will add.

"One of us," the suffragette will conclude.

And there may be a grain of truth in every answer. But the idea is not absolutely new. At this writing, there is a woman-mayor in one of the smaller cities of the middle states in America; while over in England there are, I believe, two women doing good work in the municipal chair.

And again, "Why not?" Housekeeping is a woman's business. It is the primeval instinct at the bottom of every woman's heart. The average American and English home is a clean, sweet, sanitary and well-governed institution,—made and kept so by some woman. God made women to be wives, mothers and home-makers; and if our modern conditions have sent some of us out into the world to earn our own living and perhaps to support somebody else, the instinct remains—as witness the thousands of tiny flats or cottages where these women dwell and maintain a home, "be it ever so humble." And so, if we are the natural housekeepers, the conservators of health and morals and civic pride, why not a woman at the head of municipal affairs?

The suffragette, the reformer, the philanthropist, the average wife are right, too. As for the average man—let him read the story of Roma's woman-mayor and think it over. And if he does not decide to vote for a woman as mayor, perhaps he will come to see that woman's housekeeping instinct and newly awakened civic sense, added to a revival of public honesty among men, might well combine to make a model city.

If "it is not good for man to live alone," perhaps it is not well for him to manage his City Hall alone. After all, is it "chimerical?"

H. M. W.

Cambridge, Mass. May, 1909.

CHAPTER I

An Unprecedented Proposal

"Well, why shouldn't we change it?" asked Mrs. Bateman, as she scooped out the grape-fruit that formed the first course at the P. W.'s regular monthly luncheon.

"Change it? Change what?—How?" asked several voices at once.

"The state of affairs in this city," pursued Mrs. Bateman calmly. "I have been thinking things over since I got home this fall. Everybody agrees that our little city is going to the dogs; that municipal affairs were never so muddled as now. And now, here is Barnaby Burke running for mayor, with a ravenous pack of demagogues behind him."

"Yes, and not a decent man to run against him," added Cornelia Jewett.

"I don't see why," began the fluffy little woman in light blue, "I don't see why no genuine, honest, upright gentleman will allow his name to be used. Rudolph says it has got so that nobody but a politician will consent to be mayor of Roma."

"They're all afraid of the demagogues," put in another. "There's Albert Turner; he ought to stand as a candidate. But I suppose he wouldn't?" She turned to a large fair lady across the table who was placidly consuming her soup.

"My husband isn't interested in politics," was the reply. "His business affairs are too pressing."

"That's the trouble with most of the men," commented another. "They are too much absorbed in their own affairs to care much what happens to the community. We need a little more of the socialistic spirit."

"Oh, dreadful!" muttered another. "We shall be preaching anarchy next."

"And Granville Mason—or Geoffrey Bateman," added the fluffy lady in blue.

"My husband said last night that politics had sunk to such a pass in this town that no decent man would touch the City Hall with a pair of tongs," said Mrs. Mason. "That's the answer he gave a couple of men who came from Headquarters to ask him to stand. And he said that whatever decent man accepted the nomination was sure to be defeated. He doesn't care to be the figure-head of Defeat."

"That's the way they all feel," said Gertrude Van Deusen. "I wish I were a man. I'd run for mayor! I wouldn't let the figure of Defeat worry me. I'd make a fight, I would, and we'd see if the demagogues had everything their own way."

"Why not run, then?" asked Mrs. Bateman, smiling across the table.

"I'd get every decent man roused up, for once," said Gertrude, enthusiastically, "I'd go into every ward and organize—as they do. I'd work among the poor, the illiterate, the unfortunate; and I'd rouse the rich and educated, too. That's the class that need awakening in this town."

"Then you're the right candidate," said Mrs. Bateman. "Why don't you take it? Really, now, why not?"

"O, Mrs. Bateman, I was only imagining a case." Miss Van Deusen was blushing and confused now. "Of course I couldn't run for office, not really."

"Why not?" asked the elder woman in the calm, judicial way which made her a leader among women. "Why not? The town is going to the dogs—or rather, to the demagogues. We need a complete revolution in Roma. We women have the vote in this state; why not take matters into our own hands? Why not have a woman for mayor?"

"O-o-oh!" gasped several of her hearers in the slight pause.

"Think of the field of activities that would open up before a good woman," she went on. "The condition of our paupers, of our children's institutions, of our schools. Think of the intemperance and the vagrancy and the immorality that flourish under our very noses. Yes, and the machine-politics that keep them flourishing. Oh, there is so much to be done, and our good men too busy, or—as they claim—too high-minded to meddle with it."

"Then what would, what could a decent woman do with it?" demanded Mrs. Jewett.

"Walk through it like an angel of light," answered Mrs. Bateman. "Ladies, we as the 'Progressive Workers' have labored ten years to effect reforms in this town, to further the interests of the schools, the poor, the dependent. What have we accomplished?"

"Why, why, a little," replied Mrs. Jewett. "Enough to have made our names respected and—yes, a little to be feared."

"But not enough," resumed Mrs. Bateman. "Not so much as we ought to have done. Not so much as we might have done had the City Council been with, instead of against us, or at best, merely tolerant of us. Now here is our opportunity. The lower element has put up a man, notoriously bad and unfit, to be mayor. The better side is all at sea. Our old mayor (weak enough, but infinitely better than Barnaby Burke) is ill with an incurable disease, and no one whose name inspires the least particle of confidence has been mentioned yet to take his place. Let us put up a good, whole-souled, fearless woman and get her elected."

"Impossible!" said Mrs. Jewett.

"We can do it," said the fluffy woman in blue. "My husband would help us; I know he would."

"But who?" asked Mrs. Mason. "Where could we find the woman?"

"Right here in our ranks," said Mrs. Bateman. "One of our own members. Gertrude, you're just the woman for us."

Miss Van Deusen did not answer. Only the quick flush showed how the possibilities of the moment found echo in the consternation at her heart.

"You are independent both by nature and by inheritance. You represent the best element of our citizens, you have means and time, you are bound by no family ties, and you have the kind of courage for the position," urged Mrs. Bateman.

"What will the men say?" reflected Mrs. Jewett.

"It'll give 'em a shock," murmured Mrs. Mason, decidedly. "They need a shock. Yes, Gertrude, you are just the woman to try it,—to try for it, I mean. We'll all work for you,—and with you."

"Now, ladies, let us look the situation squarely in the face," said Mrs. Bateman. "I've lain awake many a night of late, thinking out things. It will mean a tremendous amount of hard and systematic work to elect a woman to the mayor's chair in Roma. But if we are thoroughly organized and can get some of the men's leagues and clubs to endorse us, I believe we can win. Think of it seriously a few minutes, and let us keep silence for a little while."

Then ensued the strange spectacle of fifteen women sitting at luncheon—speechless. It was a custom they had, whenever an important subject came up for discussion, to take ten or fifteen minutes for silent thought instead of wasting that time in discussion that did not get anywhere; so that when the moment for talking arrived the club-members, being accustomed to exert their mental powers, were prepared to advance and weigh such arguments as might be brought forth.

"Gertrude," said Mrs. Bateman at last, "you haven't spoken yet. You see your civic duty?"

"It will call for an appalling amount of courage and self-reliance and belief in the ideals of good government," began Gertrude—and stopped. Her voice thrilled with a new emotion and her fine eyes glowed with prophetic hopefulness.

"But the best people would be all with you," put in a young woman at the other end of the table.

"Would they, I wonder?" queried Miss Van Deusen. "From the time of the Nazarene down to today, some of the best people have found it inexpedient to stand by the right when it was presented in strange or new guise; and surely this would be a novel innovation—a woman for mayor."

"But you have courage enough," urged Mrs. Mason.

"If there was ever a woman with ideals," said Mary Snow, a newspaper woman who had not yet spoken, "her name was—is Gertrude Van Deusen."

"Friends," said Miss Van Deusen, "I'm going to stick to my guns. I said in my haste that I'd never let the figure-head of Defeat worry or scare me; that I would put up a fight. Well, I'll make the fight, I'll stand for the nomination and if I get it, for election."

"Three cheers for Gertrude Van Deusen," cried Mrs. Mason, and a vigorous round of hand-claps was her answer. Handkerchiefs were waved and there was excitement among the P. W.'s.

"My husband has just got to take the stump for you," said the fluffy woman. "I'll make him."

"Thank you, Bella," was Miss Van Deusen's reply. "I suppose I shall be emblazoned and lauded and berated in the newspapers, and shall come out at the end of the campaign with scarcely a rag of reputation left, whether I win or lose."

"You are going to win, Gertrude," said Mrs. Bateman calmly.

"Yes, I'm going to win," answered the younger woman. And as she sat with her handsome head thrown hack and her far-seeing gaze looking out and past the assembled women into the stormy future, not one of them doubted, at the moment, the truth of her confident prophecy.

CHAPTER II

A Perplexed Reformer

The chairman of the Roma Municipal League had just finished dictating his morning's letters and was leaning back in his half-turned swivel chair. At another desk his secretary worked perfunctorily, awaiting orders from his chief.

"Anything from Wilkins?" asked the latter.

"Worse. Won't live many weeks. Going South tomorrow," answered the secretary.

"Or Bateman?—or Mason?"

"Mason wouldn't touch politics with a pair of tongs,—so he says," the secretary answered. "As for Judge Bateman,—I tell you, Allingham, if such men as he would do their duty, there'd be some hope of cleaning out the Augean stables. But it's hopeless. There isn't a decent Republican citizen in this town who'll take hold with us,—I mean as candidate for mayor."

"The more shame to Roma, then," said Allingham. "Things have come to a pretty state of graft when—"

He stopped suddenly, for the door was opening and Mrs. Bateman walked in. With her were two other women, one white-haired and graciously dignified, the other young and tall and handsome.

"Good-morning, Mr. Allingham," said Mrs. Bateman, taking the hand which the young man, coming forward, stretched forth. "May I present you to Mrs. Stillman and Miss Van Deusen? And may we have a few minutes' talk with you?"

"Certainly," he replied, wondering what these society women could want with the Municipal League, "certainly. Be seated."

The secretary slipped quietly from the room while the visitors drew up in a half-circle around the chairman's desk.

"We are sure to give you a surprise," began Mrs. Bateman, "so we may as well tell you at once. We are going to enter city politics."

"That's good," answered Allingham. "I trust you're going to offer us an available candidate for mayor? That's the greatest need in Roma today."

"We are," said Mrs. Bateman, smiling.

"Good!" cried Allingham, with enthusiasm. "I was just saying to Morgan, here, that if Judge Bateman would consent to run,—or rather, he was saying it and I was assenting, when you came in. I hope you're going to offer the Judge on the altar of municipal duty, Mrs. Bateman. He would carry the city."

"No, indeed. Better than that," replied the Judge's wife.

"Far better, we think," added Mrs. Stillman.

"Mr. Allingham, the women of Roma are going to put forth their own candidate," pursued Mrs. Bateman.

"Good, again. Since the women can vote, I don't see why, if you all get out and work, you can't elect anybody you see fit."

"O, do you think so? Do you really believe that?" said Gertrude Van Deusen, who had not spoken before.

"I do," solemnly asseverated the young man. "'You women can do whatever you undertake. Women without the vote can do almost anything they choose, here in the United States. But where they have the right of suffrage, they have absolutely everything in their hands. You've given me great courage. For, if you women really mean business, and will join your forces with the Municipal League—" he paused a little.

"That's why we have come," said Mrs. Stillman.

"Then we are sure of victory. Now if you can bring Judge Bateman or,—a better man, I think you said,—to accept the nomination, we can overthrow the gang of grafters at City Hall and establish good government here in Roma once more. Who is your man?"

"Miss Gertrude Van Deusen." Mrs. Bateman's eyes twinkled as she pronounced the name; for she knew well the conservative position occupied by all the Allingham family on 'the woman question.'

The chairman of the Municipal League gasped. Surely he had not heard aright. He turned to the younger woman, who sat smiling at him, confident of his support. Alas! What had he been saying?

"I am delighted to feel that we have the Municipal League behind us," Mrs. Bateman was saying. "We mean to arouse every woman in this town, and make them vote,——"

"But, ladies," began Allingham, already floundering in the dust of expediency, "have you thought?—Do you realize what you are doing? Under ordinary circumstances—in well-regulated towns perhaps,—but a woman for mayor?—In Roma? I'm afraid it wouldn't do."

"But you just said we could do anything we pleased?" began Mrs. Stillman.

"In the way of help, yes," replied the chairman, sore beset. "But this would be such an innovation."

"Now, Jack Allingham," said Mrs. Bateman, who had known him all his life, "I know this comes with a shock to you,—I know how difficult the problem seems at this minute. But don't decide now. Take time to think. Consult with some of your leaders. We want your co-operation. We believe that together we can establish the right kind of government in City Hall. But we are determined to fight for our candidate,—and to win. Unless, indeed, you succeed in putting up a much better man than any yet mentioned for the place."

"Then here is where you throw down the glove?" asked Allingham, recovering his equanimity, "and I've to—"

"You're not to decide until you've had time to think, to reason with yourself, to consult your leaders, and to arrive at a conclusion," answered Mrs. Bateman, rising. "And now, we'll go."

They said good-by and left him standing in the middle of the room, dazed and indignant at the tide of affairs. Even then he noted that turn of Miss Van Deusen's fine shoulders and the invincible way she carried her head.

"What a splendid woman she must be," he said to himself. "A genuine,—but I'm an egregious idiot,—a blanked blunderer. A pretty scrape I am in! Why didn't I wait until they declared themselves? And Miss Van Deusen! She must think me a fool. But a woman for mayor, indeed!"

"What do you suppose I've just heard?" exclaimed the secretary, hurrying in again. "Blatchley says the club women of Roma are going into the campaign with a vengeance,—that they are going to put up a woman—the daughter of old Senator Van Deusen. I don't believe it.—And yet, wasn't she one of those women who just went out?"

"She was," replied Allingham. "She is. Whether she will be, remains to be seen. You can't tell what a woman—"

"Then it's true?" Morgan's tone was incredulous.

"Yes, I suppose so," returned the chairman. "The women are going to turn in and work. It is possible they may win. But what a thing for Roma to do! I don't see how we can—"

"Then they came for help from the League?" asked Morgan, still more incredulously.

"They came," replied Allingham, "to offer to co-operate with us. They asked no help, come to think of it; they just offered to co-operate and they seem to have a very definite idea of what they are going to do,—women!" he finished abruptly, remembering his rash endorsement of their plans before their unfolding.

"I'm not certain but it would be a good thing for the town," began the secretary. "A radical change would—"

"Morgan," interrupted his chief, "we should make ourselves ridiculous, we should be a laughing-stock for the whole state. I shall never consent," he added, with the more heat when he recalled Gertrude's confident poise and—how he had already half pledged himself to their cause.

"I suppose you'll call a meeting of the committee to consider their plan?" asked Morgan. "If they are really in earnest, these women are a factor to be seriously considered, whether for or against."

"Oh, yes, I suppose so," answered Allingham, turning back to his desk. "But I was brought up to believe a woman's place was at home with her husband and children."

"So was I," said Morgan, who was a privileged friend as well as secretary. "But the teachings of twenty years ago are out of place today. Indeed, they are as old-fashioned as they were a hundred years before. Miss Van Deusen is a magnificent woman,—the fit daughter of the old Senator."

"You know her?" said Allingham, irrelevantly.

"Well, no, not exactly. I've met her. But my cousins know her well, and she must be,—from all I hear, a thoroughly womanly woman. And, they all say, will marry Armstrong."

"Let her keep out of politics, then," growled Allingham. "Look here. A woman like that, according to my mind, would better get down on her knees and scrub her own front stairs than try to clean out City Hall. And she's not the woman for either job."

He chewed his moustache savagely, and strode out of the room, knocking over his chair in the process and causing his stenographer considerable alarm as he banged the door together on his way out. Morgan looked after him and smiled.

CHAPTER III

Learning the Ropes

The next morning's newspapers were embellished with scare-head-lines, all more or less complimentary to the women's candidate.

"Women Take Matters in their Own Hands."

"Senator's Daughter Runs for Mayor."

"Men to be Laid on the Political Shelf."

"Senator Van Deusen Will Turn in His Grave if Daughter Accepts Nomination."

were some of the head-lines which Roma editors had produced by late use of midnight oil, and the articles that followed them were incredulous, mildly tolerant, openly snobbish or given over to ridicule, according to the policy of their several papers.

One of them read: