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THE MOTION PICTURE STORY MAGAZINE.
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THE DIN FROM THE WOMEN S HEADQUARTERS DROWNS THE • MUSIC OF THEIR
RIVALS.
of the vote for better conditions, and the working out of those conditions in the individual home. Men, she knew, not knowing the nobler vocation of home culture, were likely to enjoy the coarser excitements of the political chase, yet poor Winthrop's eyes betrayed anything but happiness. He had not slept in his own house since the establishment of the Suffrage Party Headquarters in his cozy rooms, and he began to feel the nervous strain of vain attempts to please even the party which nominated him, in a nervous cough, eye strain, twitching muscles, and sleepless nights. The great night before election day arrived, and a mass meeting was called by the Fusion Party in the one large hall the town contained. A small platform was hastily constructed, just large enough to contain the speaker and the three leaders whose vulgar presence had so shocked the refined sensibilities of Ellen in her own home. Banners had been flying all day, and the brass band had forcibly and unpleasantly reminded the community each hour during the afternoon that Winthrop Ainslee's great speech was to win their
hearts that evening. The little Labor Party was bringing up a quiet rear in the march of the three parties, the Fusion candidate apparently leading in popular interest. Who cared for the interests of "labor?" Neither the Fusion nor the Suffrage Party gave much thought to the handlers of their instruments of manufacture. The owners of the machines and not the workers of them most interested capital and the parasites of capital, and anything so unwashed, grimy and powerless as the slaves of industry had no place even in the platform of the Suffrage party, which was following step by step in the wake of the drivers of labor.
So the meeting, so fraught with important results for Winthrop Ainslee, opened with dignity. The room was filled to the last bit of standing place, and the Fusion candidate for Mayor began his speech. He was weary and without enthusiasm, yet he nerved himself to do his best, if only to triumph over Ellen. He spoke the introductory remarks cleverly, and began to "get his gait," as the English pugilists say. Then he touched