As a result of that man’s harangue a few months later I travelled more than one hundred miles to march in the suffrage parade through Boston. Now I not only worked for the sake of rubbing my rabbit’s foot and giving them the victory, but for the sake of getting behind the scenes and learning by my own personal observations whether or no the women leaders of the party were competent executives. I held a good many positions during my four years in the underbrush. In none did I find more competent leadership. In none did I ever see such indomitable pluck and perseverance, such undaunted courage. It takes courage, real courage, to work on regardless of insult and flattery. Especially when the insults and sneers come from those with whom you are the most closely associated. It takes pluck and perseverance to lay siege and to hammer and hammer and hammer to break down prejudice in small minds. That is what being a leader of the Suffrage Party meant. At the end of my week I was paid the promised ten dollars as promptly as I would have been by any other first-class business organization. On Monday evening I marched in the last suffrage parade in New York City, from the West Side headquarters to Durland’s. Much to the surprise of the marchers about me I insisted on carrying both a heavy banner and a transparency. The day after that election which gave the women of New York State the ballot I went to work for the International Young Men’s Christian Association—proof-reader in the multigraph department, otherwise known as the “guts” of the Association. Through our hands passed every order, every report, every circular of every sort before it was given to the public. Down in two little dark basement rooms we worked under electricity from eight-thirty until—many times after 10 P. M. CHAPTER XIV STAMPING-GROUND OF THE MONKEY-PEOPLE