“What’s the schoolmarm here for?” they asked. And Sid Green remarked sourly that he’d heard tell she was one of those “advanced women.” His wife rebuked him sharply. “Miss Pitts is one of the nicest and most ladylike teachers we’ve ever had. You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Sid Green!” But Sid hadn’t taken it back. The School Board hadn’t liked their teacher’s marching in the suffrage parade last fall--and Sid knew it, no matter what his wife said. Anyhow, _he_ wore the pants in _his_ house. He hitched them up now with a jerk and went outside. There was no question about the teacher’s popularity with her pupils. The morning she mailed her resignation (to take effect at the end of the month) she decided not to tell the children until after the Christmas party. That wasn’t going to be easy. The teacher’s mind was jerked back to the present by hearing her name. “I move that Helen Pitts be our delegate,” Lucy Payne said. Helen blinked her eyes. “I second the motion.” Mrs. Huggins was nodding her head emphatically. Helen nudged the girl next to her and whispered, “I didn’t hear--What’s going on?” “Delegates to the National Convention,” came the low answer. “But--” “Sh-sh! You’re on your way to fame and fortune.” The girl grinned as the chairman rapped for order. She was ready to put the motion. “It has been moved and seconded that Miss Helen Pitts be our delegate in Washington next month. All those in favor say ‘Aye’.” The “Ayes” had it, and everybody beamed at Helen. “Get up! You’re supposed to thank them!” Her friend nudged her. It was silly to be nervous--they were all her friends. But the hazel eyes were dangerously bright and the neat, folded kerchief at her throat fluttered. “Ladies, you do me great honor,” she said. “I--I’ll try to be a good representative.” She swallowed and then spoke resolutely. “We know why we want votes for women--not for any of the silly reasons some men say. We must be very sure and as courageous as our leaders. They are taking the fight right to the Capital, and I promise you we’ll fling it into the very teeth of Congress, disturbing their peaceful complacency until they will be forced to action.” They did not have enough funds in the treasury to send a delegate from Seneca Falls. Helen would go down to Washington a week before her job started. Helen Pitts spent most of her Christmas holiday at home packing and harking to parental admonitions. Gideon Pitts regarded his daughter both with pride and apprehension. Schoolteaching had been a nice, quiet occupation, but he knew something about the “wiles” and “pitfalls” of big cities. He thought he ought to go down with her and see that she found a respectable place to live in. His wife held him back. “That’s silly, Pa. Helen’s got plenty mother wit, for all she’s so small and frail-looking.” Her mother sighed. “I was hoping she’d be settling near home--that she might accept Brad.” Aunt Julia was a little more direct.