It wouldn’t be at all the difficult undertaking it used to look to those women of yesterday, whose place was in the home pouring afternoon tea or embroidering a flower in a piece of lace. Why, to-day they would scarcely have to go out of their way at all to the polls! They could just stop in as easily as not, as they went down the street to their day’s work in shop and office and factory. Sergeant Jones’s wife is out of the home now anyway from six o’clock in the morning until seven at night making munitions. Some one must support her family, you know. Well, all over the world a new call began. Simultaneously in every civilised land, through the crack in the window of the government house where man gathered with his fellow man, you could hear it. In some lands yet it is only a murmur of dissent. But in many lands now it is a rising chorus of consent: “Women wanted in the counsels of the nation!” At the gates of government, the new woman movement has arrived. And not through the broken window is it entering in. Without benefit of even a riot, suffrage walking very softly and sedately is going through an open door. In England, a gentleman holds it ajar, a gentleman suave and smiling and bowing the ladies to pass! Democracy, the right of those who submit to authority to have a voice in their own government, is breaking through apparently on all the fronts at once. It is a most remarkable coincidence. In August, 1917, Parliament in England removed the “grille,” the brass lattice barring the ladies’ gallery in the House of Commons and symbolising what had been the English woman’s position. The _Times_, commenting on the proceeding, characterised it as a “domestic revolution.” In the same month in India 5000 Hindus were applauding Shimrati Pandita Lejjawati who at Jullundur had come out on a public platform to urge that her country abolish purdah! But the great drive for Democracy that now thrills around the world at the International Suffrage Alliance headquarters, began unmistakably in Britain. Mrs. Pankhurst in the old days never staged a raid on the houses of Parliament more spectacularly. Just see the gentleman bowing at the open door! It is Mr. Asquith, the former leader who for years held the Parliamentary line against all woman’s progress. And smiling right over his shoulder stands Mr. Lloyd George, the present premier. Oh, well! The girl in the green sweater who horsewhipped one member of Parliament, at the Brighton races, is driving a Red Cross ambulance in Flanders. The quiet little woman in a grey coat, who fired the country house of another in 1912, is rolling lint bandages. Sergeant Jones’s wife has become a bread winner. Soldiers are not afraid for women to vote. And cabinet ministers take courage!