In the audience were twenty or thirty
women and a dozen men, their laps filled, and their pockets bulging,
with propaganda. They stood at intervals to ask superfluous or
unanswerable questions, upon which Mrs. Grubb would rise and reply,
with cheeks growing pink and pinker, with pleasant smile and gracious
manner, and a voice fairly surcharged with conviction. Most of the
ladies took notes, and a girl with a receding chin was seated at a
small table in front of the platform, making a stenographic report.
All this Marm Lisa saw, but her eyes rested on nothing she longed to
see. Mrs. Grubb's lecture voice rose and fell melodiously, floating
up to her balcony heights in a kind of echo that held the tone, but
not the words. The voice made her drowsy, for she was already worn
out with emotion, but she roused herself with an effort, and stole
down the stairs to wander into the street again. Ah, there was an
idea! The coat-shop! Why had she not thought of it before?
The coat-shop was a sort of clothing manufactory on a small scale, a
tall, narrow building four stories high, where she had often gone
with Atlantic and Pacific. There were sewing-machines on the ground-
floor, the cutters and pressers worked in the middle stories, and at
the top were the finishers.
Pages:
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101