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"All right," she said, and went on with the conversation where she had
interrupted it.
"Why, I'm nobody much to get acquainted with," she said. "Mother's the
interesting one--mother and Portia. Mother's quite a person. She's Naomi
Rutledge Stanton, you know."
"I know I ought to know," Rodney said, and her quick appreciative smile
over his candor rewarded him for not having pretended.
"Oh," she said, "mother's written two or three books, and lots of
magazine articles, about women--women's rights and suffrage, and all
that. She's been--well, sort of a leader ever since she graduated from
college, back in--just think!--1870, when most girls used to
have--accomplishments--'French, music, and washing extra,' you know."
She said it all with a quite adorable seriousness and his gravity
matched hers when he replied:
"I would like to meet her very much. Feminism's a subject I'm blankly
ignorant about."
"I don't believe," she said thoughtfully, "that I'd call it feminism in
talking to mother about it, if I were you.


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