“Listen, sonny,” said the old man, patting the soldier’s arm, “I’m as loyal to the President as any man alive, but I’ve got to admit that he ain’t doing the right thing towards these women. He’s forced everything else he’s wanted through Congress, and if he wanted to give these women the vote badly enough he could force the suffrage amendment through. If you and I were in these women’s places, sonny, we’d act real vicious. We’d want to come here and clean out the ,whole White House.” “But if the President doesn’t want to push their amendment through, it’s his right not to,” argued the soldier. “It’s nobody’s business how he uses his power.” “Good God!” the sailor burst out. “Why don’t you go over and get a job shining the Kaiser’s boots?” The women were released without bail, since no one was able to supply a charge. But a thorough research was instituted and out of the dusty archives some one produced an ancient statute that would serve the purpose. It prohibits the building of fires in a public place in the District of Columbia between sunset and sunrise. And so the beautiful Elizabethan custom of lighting watchfires as a form of demonstration was forbidden! In a few days eleven women were brought to trial. There was a titter in the court room as the prosecuting attorney read with heavy pomposity the charge against the prisoners “to wit: That on Pennsylvania Avenue, Northwest, in the District of Columbia they did aid and abet in setting fire to certain combustibles consisting of logs, paper, oil, etc., between the setting of the sun in the said District of Columbia on the sixth day of January and the rising of the sun in the said District of Columbia o f the sixth day o f January, 1919, A. D.” The court is shocked to hear of this serious deed. The prisoners are unconcerned. “Call the names of the prisoners,” the judge orders. The clerk calls, “Julia Emory.” No answer! “Julia Emory,” he calls a second time. Dead silence! The clerk tries another name, a second, a third, a fourth. Always there is silence! In a benevolent tone, the judge asks the policeman to identify the prisoners. They identify as many as they can. An attempt is made to have the prisoners rise and be sworn. They sit. “We will go on with the testimony,” says the judge. The police testify as to the important details of the crime. They were on Pennsylvania Avenue—they looked at their watch—they learned it was about 5:30—they saw the ladies in the park putting wood on fires in urns. “I threw the wood on the pavement; they kept putting it back,” says one policeman. “Each time I tried to put out the fire they threw on more wood,” says another. “They kept on lighting new fires, and I’d keep putting them out,” says a third with an injured air. The prosecuting attorney asks an important question, “Did you command them to stop?” Policeman—“I did sir, and I said, ‘You ladies don’t want to be arrested do you?’ They made no answer but went on attending to their fires.”