She was eloquent
truly, and a picture of grace and girlish dignity, even when she
was most vigorous. Nothing could have been more militant than her
denunciation of militancy.
"She's an actual wonder," Fred said, when the two had got back to Mrs.
Meigs's, afterward. "Don't you look at me like that: I'm talkin' about
her as a public character, and there's nothin' personal about it. You
let me alone."
Ramsey was not clear as to his duty. "Well--"
"If any person makes a public speech," Fred protested, "I got a perfect
right to discuss 'em, no matter what you think of 'em"--and he added
hastily--"or _don't_ think of 'em!"
"Look here--"
"Good heavens!" Fred exclaimed. "You aren't expecting to interfere with
me if I say anything about that little fat Werder girl that argued for
Germany, are you? Or any of the other speakers? I got a right to talk
about 'em just as public speakers, haven't I? Well, what I say is:
Dora Yocum as an orator is just an actual perfect wonder. Got any
objections?"
"N-no."
"All right then." Fred settled himself upon the window seat with a pipe,
and proceeded, "There's something about her, when she stands there, she
stands so straight and knows just what she's up to, and everything, why,
there's something about her makes the cold chills go down your
spine--I mean _my_ spine, not yours particularly! You sit down--I
mean _anybody's_ spine, doggone it!" And as Ramsey increased the
manifestations of his suspicions, lifting a tennis racket over the
prostrate figure, "Oh, murder," Fred said, resignedly.
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