As the statistical extinguisher retired, beaming with satisfaction
at having added her mite to the good cause, a sudden and
uncontrollable impulse moved Christie to rise in her place and ask
leave to speak. It was readily granted, and a little stir of
interest greeted her; for she was known to many as Mr. Power's
friend, David Sterling's wife, or an army nurse who had done well.
Whispers circulated quickly, and faces brightened as they turned
toward her; for she had a helpful look, and her first words pleased
them. When the president invited her to the platform she paused on
the lowest step, saying with an expressive look and gesture:
"I am better here, thank you; for I have been and mean to be a
working-woman all my life."
"Hear! hear!" cried a stout matron in a gay bonnet, and the rest
indorsed the sentiment with a hearty round. Then they were very
still, and then in a clear, steady voice, with the sympathetic
undertone to it that is so magical in its effect, Christie made her
first speech in public since she left the stage.
That early training stood her in good stead now, giving her
self-possession, power of voice, and ease of gesture; while the
purpose at her heart lent her the sort of simple eloquence that
touches, persuades, and convinces better than logic, flattery, or
oratory.
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