he Government of one of the provinces of Canada, and presented
many reasons for extending the franchise to women. One member of the
Government arose and spoke for all his colleagues. He said in
substance: "You can't have it--so long as I have anything to do with
the affairs of this province--you shall not have it!"...

Did your brain ever give a queer little twist, and suddenly you were
conscious that the present mental process had taken place before. If
you have ever had it, you will know what I mean, and if you haven't I
cannot make you understand. I had that feeling then.... I said to
myself: "Where have I seen that face before?" ... Then, suddenly, I
remembered, and in my heart I cried out: "Mike!--old friend, Mike!
Dead these many years! Your bones lie buried under the fertile soil of
the Souris Valley, but your soul goes marching on! Mike, old friend, I
see you again--both feet in the trough!"

CHAPTER VII

GENTLE LADY

The soul that idleth will surely die.

I am sorry to have to say so, but there are some women who love to be
miserable, who have a perfect genius for martyrdom, who take a delight
in seeing how badly they can be treated, who seek out hard ways for
their feet, who court tears rather than laughter. Such a one is hard
to live with, for they glory in their cross, and simply revel in their
burdens, and they so contrive that all who come in contact with them
become a party to their martyrdom, and thus even innocent people, who
never intended to oppress the weak or harass the innocent, are led into
these heinous sins.

Mrs. M. was one of these. She prided herself on never telling anyone
to do what she could do herself. Her own poetic words were: "I'd crawl
on my hands and knees before I would ask anyone to do things for me.
If they can't see what's to be done, I'll not tell them." This was her
declaration of independence. Needless to say, Mrs. M. had a large
domestic help problem. Her domestic helpers were continually going and
coming. The inefficient ones she would not keep, and the efficient
ones would not stay with her. So the burden of the home fell heavily
on her, and, pulling her martyr's crown close down on her head, she
worked feverishly. When she was not working she was bemoaning her sad
lot, and indulging in large drafts of self-pity. The holidays she
spent were in sanatoriums and hospitals, but she gloried in her
illnesses.

She would make the journey upsta