She began to talk very nobly and beautifully, while the President listened cordially. But suddenly a cold wave passed over him. Sara had quoted Mr. Hughes. At that name, the President’s manner chilled. The look in his eyes became so cold that, as Sara says, the words almost froze on her lips. She finished in an icy stillness, and after a moment the President spoke. Instead of the assurances we had expected, we heard words to the effect that he could not dictate to his Party. We must first concert public opinion. It was his last gleam, for, looking about him and seeing amazement, disappointment, indignation, he grew still colder. With a last defiant glance at us all he abruptly left the room. Secret Service men, newspaper men, and secretaries followed him. Where the President of the United States had been was now a closed door. Stunned, talking in low, indignant tones, we moved slowly out of the East Room and returned to our Headquarters. There we discussed the situation. We saw that the President would do nothing for some time, perhaps not until the eve of the Presidential election in 1920. He said we must concert public opinion. But how? For half a century women had been walking the hard way of the lobbyist. We had had speeches, meetings, parades, campaigns, organization. What new method could we devise? ------------------------------------------------------------------------ PART THREE 1917 ------------------------------------------------------------------------ I THE PERPETUAL DELEGATION ON THE PICKET LINE The avenue is misty gray, And here beside the guarded gate We hold our golden blowing flags And wait. The people pass in friendly wise; They smile their greetings where we stand And turn aside to recognize The just demand. Often the gates are swung aside: The man whose power could free us now Looks from his car to read our plea— And bow. Sometimes the little children laugh; The careless folk toss careless words, And scoff and turn away, and yet The people pass the whole long day Those golden flags against the gray And can’t forget. BEULAH AMIDON. _The Suffragist_, March 3, 1917. _1. The Peaceful Picketing_