His eyes rested on Delilah. "She has blazed a way," he said, slowly;

"she's a most remarkable woman."

Delilah, looking up, caught his glance and smiled.

"Are they in love with each other?" Cousin Patty asked Mary that night.

Mary laughed. "Delilah's a will-o'-the-wisp; who knows?"

With their days filled, there was little time for intimacy or

confidential talks between Mary and Cousin Patty. And since Mary would

not ask questions about Roger, and since Cousin Patty seemed to have

certain reserves in his direction, it was only meager information which

trickled out; and with this Mary was forced to be content.

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Grace marched in the Suffrage Parade, and they applauded her from their

seats on the Treasury stand. Aunt Frances, who sat with them, was

filled with indignation.

"To think that my daughter----"

Cousin Patty threw down the gauntlet: "Why not your daughter, Mrs.

Clendenning?"

"Because the women of our family have always been--different."

"So have the women of my family," calmly, "but that's no reason why we

should expect to stand still. None of the women of my family ever made

wedding cake for a living. But that isn't any reason why I should

starve, is it?"

Aunt Frances shifted the argument. "But to march--on the street."

"That's their way of expressing themselves. Men march--and have

marched since the beginning. Sometimes their marching doesn't mean

anything, and sometimes it does. And I'm inclined," said Cousin Patty

with an emphatic nod of her head, "to think that this marching means a

great deal."

On and on they came, these women who marched for a Cause, heads up,

eyes shining. There had been something to bear at the other end of the

line where the crowd had pressed in upon them, and there had been no

adequate police protection, but they were ready for martyrdom, if need

be, perhaps, some of them would even welcome it.

But Grace was no fanatic. She met them afterward, and told of her

experience gleefully.

"You should have been with me, Mary," she said.

Porter rose in his wrath. "What has bewitched you women?" he demanded.

"Do you all believe in it?"

And now Leila piped, "I don't want to march. I don't want to do the

things that men do. I want to have a nice little house, and cook and

sew, and take care of somebody."

They all laughed. But Porter surveyed Leila with satisfaction.

"Barry's a lucky fellow," he said.




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