As we were leaving the workhouse to return to Washington we had an unexpected revelation of the attitude of officialdom toward our campaign. Addressing Miss Lucy Burns, who had arrived to assist us in getting on our way, Superintendent Whittaker, in an almost unbelievable rage, said, “Now that you women are going away, I have something to say and I want to say it to you. The next lot of women who come here won’t be treated with the same consideration that these women were.” I will show later on how he made good this terrible threat. Receiving a Presidential pardon through the Attorney General had its amusing aspect. My comrades shared this amusement when I told them the following incident. On the day after our arrest, I was having tea at the Chevy Chase Country Club in Washington. Quite casually a gentleman introduced me to Mr. Gregory, the Attorney General. “I see you were mixed up with the suffragettes yesterday,” was the Attorney General’s first remark to the gentleman. And before the latter could explain that he had settled accounts quietly but efficiently with a hoodlum who was attempting to trip the women up on their march, the chief law officer of the United States contributed this important suggestion: “You know what I’d do if I was those policemen. I’d just take a hose out with me and when the women came out with their banners, why I’d just squirt the hose on ’em . . . .” “But Mr. Gregory . . .” “Yes, sir! If you can just make what a woman does look ridiculous, you can sure kill it . . . .” “But, Mr. Attorney General, what right would the police have to assault these or any other women?” the gentleman managed finally to interpolate. “Hup—hup—” denoting great surprise, came from the Attorney General, as he looked to me for reassurance. His expectant look vanished when I said, “Mr. Gregory, did it ever occur to you that it might make the government look ridiculous instead of the women?” You can imagine bow the easy manner of one who is sure of his audience melted from his face. “This is one of the women arrested yesterday,” continued the gentleman, while the Attorney General smothered a “Well, I’ll be . . .” “I am out on bail,” I said. “ To-morrow we go to jail. It is all prearranged, you understand. The trial is merely a matter of form.” The highest law officer of the land fled gurgling. s The day following our release Mrs. J. A. H. Hopkins carried a picket banner to the gates of the White House to test the validity of the pardon. Her banner read, “We do not ask pardon for ourselves but justice for all American women.” A curious crowd, as large as had collected on those days when the police arrested women for “obstructing traffic,” stood watching the lone picket. The President passed through the gates and saluted. The police did not interfere. Daily picketing was resumed and no arrests followed for the moment.