A Woman for Mayor: A Novel of To-dayWinslow, Helen M. (Helen Maria)
General
A Woman for Mayor: A Novel of To-day
Winslow, Helen M. (Helen Maria)
Political fiction; Women -- Political activity -- Fiction; Women mayors -- Fiction
At six she ate her dinner with as much calmness as was possible under
the circumstances, and proceeded to dress for the evening. She was one
of the women who realize that appearances count with an audience, as
well as words, and she put on her most becoming array. At half-past
seven her maid came up from the door:
"They've sent for you," she announced. "An automobile is at the door."
"Why, I didn't know the committee was going to send for me," said Miss
Van Deusen. "I ordered the carriage for a quarter to eight. Go down and
ask the chauffeur--no, never mind. It's all right, no doubt. I'll go
with him. Call up Thomas and tell him he needn't take the horses out
tonight. But first hand me my fur coat and put on my over-shoes."
The maid obeyed and in five minutes more Gertrude Van Deusen was being
tucked into the electric cab, by a chauffeur well wrapped up and muffled
to his ears. The glass doors were closed tightly, Gertrude
congratulating herself that she was shut away from the cold, clear
January air, and that her horses might stand in their comfortable
stalls. And then they whizzed away.
It was some moments before she noticed that they were going up the
street instead of down it; but immediately she remembered that the city
was repaving one of the streets between her home and the hall where she
was to appear, and since they were evidently going to take the "longer
way around" she settled back in her seat and began, once more, to
rehearse the carefully-prepared speech for the evening. She had gone
nearly through with it when she noticed that the streets, instead of
being more thickly settled as they approached her intended destination,
were wider, with scattered residences along the way; and that they were
going at a rapid pace, over the smooth ground. It was a bright moonlit
night, and there was a clear sky twinkling with stars. The onrush of the
cab made no impression of a wind against her cheek, because she was so
well shut away from the outside world, but through the glass windows she
noted the beautiful, quiet night, and saw that they were fast leaving
the city behind and gliding into the country.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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