In London the work was being organised by Christabel, who amongst other things was conducting an active campaign in Battersea, the constituency represented by Mr. John Burns, the President of the Local Government Board. The income of the Union was still very small, and everything had to be done with the strictest possible economy. The money for meetings in halls was only forthcoming on very special occasions, and wherever possible the expenses of printing and advertising were curtailed. A large number of meetings were held at street corners, with a chair borrowed from a neighbouring shop as platform, and, in order to collect a crowd, my sister started the custom of ringing a large muffin bell. One of those who had been greatly impressed by the work of our Union was Miss Elizabeth Robins, the novelist, whose impressions of these early days of the movement are so graphically described in her novel, _The Convert_. The following extract from this book is a very truthful picture of a typical Battersea meeting: In Battersea you go into some modest little restaurant, and you say, "Will you lend me a chair?" This is a surprise for the restaurateur.... Ernestine carries the chair into the road and plants it in front of the fire station. Usually there are two or three helpers. Sometimes Ernestine if you please, carries the meeting entirely on her own shoulders--those same shoulders being about so wide. Yes, she is quite a little thing. If there are helpers she sends them up and down the street sowing a fresh crop of handbills. When Ernestine is ready to begin she stands on that chair in the open street and, as if she were doing the most natural thing in the world, she begins ringing that dinner bell. Naturally people stop and stare and draw nearer. Ernestine tells me that Battersea has got so used now to the ding-dong and to associating it with "our meetings," that as far off as they hear it the inhabitants say, "It's the Suffragettes, come along." And from one street and another the people emerge laughing and running. Of course, as soon as there is a little crowd that attracts some more, and so the snowball grows.... Last night she was wonderful.... When she wound up "The motion is carried; the meeting is over!" and climbed down off her perch, the mob cheered and pressed round her so close that I had to give up trying to join her. I extricated myself and crossed the street. She is so little that unless she is on a chair she is swallowed up. For a long time I could not see her. I did not know whether she was taking the names and addresses of the people who wanted to join the Union, or whether she had slipped away and gone home, till I saw practically the whole crowd moving off with her up the street. I followed for some distance on the off side. She went calmly on her way--a tiny figure in a long grey coat between two "helpers," a Lancashire cotton spinner and the