An American Suffragette | Page 7

wholly, as a barrier against the
worst of these public depredations.
Mr. and Mrs. George Ramsey were the same lovers now that they were
during their honeymoon. In the crowded ballroom, at the opera, in the
automobile after the harassing cares of the day, on land or sea, he was
always the admiring and devoted attendant, and gave expression to his
feelings in a variety of new and interesting ways. It was evident that
they had not run counter to the influence of the stars in waiting for a
natural affinity. In their home they entered into the spirit of whatever
was borne to them by their guests. With scholars and philosophers they
held their own in abstruse and abstract discussions. With musicians and
music lovers they were at ease, for both played and sang with more

than amateur skill. With young people bent on a frolic, they could be
the gayest of the party. Their outlook upon life was always across green
meadows or perfectly kept beds of beautiful flowers.
Every guest found ready sympathy for whatever was nearest and
dearest to him, and went away convinced that he had never rightly
understood his own hobby before.
In this atmosphere, and at table with this couple, John and Frank Earl
seated themselves at eight o'clock for dinner.
It would be difficult to imagine two brothers more widely separated in
physical and mental characteristics. John was tall, athletic, with dark
hair, large, dreamy brown eyes, perfect poise, a silent and dignified
bearing that easily commanded attention when he spoke, a low, musical
voice and an exceedingly strong and graceful hand.
Frank was of medium height, spare of figure, with light hair,
penetrating blue eyes, resilient voice, quick and nervous of speech, with
large hands and feet, and not a shadow of dignity in his bearing.
The one personified reflection; the other action. In the eyes of one
appeared the dreams of centuries; beaming from the eyes of the other
was the fun of the ages.
"Did any of you people, aside from Jack, see the suffragette parade
to-day?" asked Frank, with laughing eyes fixed upon his brother.
"I--how do you know I saw it?" asked John, and his confused manner
brought "Eh, Jack?" from the other two.
"It's all right, Jack; I won't tell Leonora, but how jealous she would be
if she could have seen you following the banner carried by those three
pretty girls," answered Frank. "Why, I followed you a dozen blocks
myself, almost touching you the whole time, just to see which one of
the three girls was making you join the parade. The next time get right
out into the street, old man, and don't block the view of us spectators,
for you know you were a part of that parade to-day, in mind at least."

The absurdity of the scene as depicted by Frank made even John throw
back his head and join in the unrestrained laughter of the others.
"I was in the Waldorf-Astoria at a tea-table near the window when the
head of the column came in view. I, too, liked the looks of those pretty
girls carrying the banner, but before I could decide which one I liked
best, my dearly beloved brother hove in sight, with eyes glued on the
third one, wandering down the Avenue like either a slow-hatching
lunatic or a good subject for a hypnotist. I knew Jack would need me in
New York to steer him right until all that Indian mysticism gets out of
his system, and that is the reason I left the delights of the wilds for the
barbarism of the city. Well, I excused myself and hurried out to take
possession of Jack, but when I got close to him and was just about to
slap him on the shoulder, I followed his eyes--and for the life of me, I
couldn't touch him!"
Here Frank's tone became half serious and his changed manner hushed
the laughter of the others. "I have always ridiculed the idea of
hypnotism and in every experiment where I have been present I have
set myself to disprove its effects. But candidly, folks, I was hypnotized.
Unconsciously I followed that parade a whole dozen blocks myself, and
when I finally came out of the trance, or whatever it was, and started
back to the hotel, the entire atmosphere seemed filled with some kind
of uncanny dope. I never witnessed such contagious energy and
earnestness, and every step emanated spiritual sparks that blinded my
eyes and took possession of my faculties. Who is she, Jack?"
"That is what I want to know. I call her my 'Mystery.' One day while I
was in London and near Trafalgar Square I saw a demonstration of
women down toward the parliament buildings. I went