Mill and harrow and rake, A restless enginery Of men and women to make Cruelty, Harlotry. Sisters of the Cross of Shame BY DANA BURNET (See page 531) The Sisters of the Cross of Shame, They smile along the night; Their houses stand with shuttered souls And painted eyes of light. Their houses look with scarlet eyes Upon a world of sin; And every man cries, "Woe, alas!" And every man goes in. The sober Senate meets at noon, To pass the Woman's Law, The portly Churchmen vote to stem The torrent with a straw. The Sister of the Cross of Shame, She smiles beneath her cloud-- (She does not laugh till ten o'clock, And then she laughs too loud.) And still she hears the throb of feet Upon the scarlet stair, And still she dons the cloak of shame That is not hers to wear. The sons of saintly women come To kiss the Cross of Shame; Before them, in another time, Their worthy fathers came.... And no man tells his son the truth, Lest he should speak of sin; And every man cries, "Woe, alas!" And every man goes in. Bringing the Light (_From "A Bed of Roses"_) BY W. L. GEORGE (Contemporary English novelist. The life-story of a woman wage-earner who is driven by the pressure of want to a career of shame. In the following scene she argues with a suffrage-worker, who has called upon her, in ignorance of her true character) The woman's eyes were rapt, her hands tightly clenched, her lips parted, her cheeks a little flushed. But Victoria's face had hardened suddenly. "Miss Welkin," she said quietly, "has anything struck you about this house, about me?" The suffragist looked at her uneasily. "You ought to know whom you are talking to," Victoria went on, "I am a.... I am a what you would probably call ... well, not respectable." A dull red flush spread over Miss Welkin's face, from the line of her tightly pulled hair to her stiff white collar; even her ears went red. She looked away into a corner. "You see," said Victoria, "it's a shock, isn't it? I ought not to have let you in. It wasn't quite fair, was it?" "Oh, it isn't that, Mrs. Ferris," burst out the suffragist, "I'm not thinking of myself.... Our cause is not the cause of rich women or poor women, of good women or bad; it's the cause of woman. Thus, it doesn't matter who she is, so long as there is a woman who stands aloof from us there is still work to do. I know that yours is not a happy life; and we are bringing the light."