“Everybody in line for the work-room!”
We were thankful to leave our inedible breakfast. We were unable to drink the greasy black coffee. The pain in the tops of our heads was acute.
“What you all down here for?” asked a young negress, barely out of her teens, as she casually fingered her sewing material.
“Why, I held a purple, white and gold banner at the gates of the White House.”
“You don’ say so! What de odders do?”
“Same thing. We all held banners at the White House gates asking President Wilson to give us the vote.”
“An’ yo’ all got sixty days fo’ dat?”
“Yes. You see the President thought it would be a good idea to send us to the workhouse for asking for the vote. You know women want to vote and have wanted to for a long time in our country”
“O-Yass’m, I know. I seen yo’ parades, an’ meetin’s, an’ everythin’. I know whah yo’ all live, right near the White House. You’s alright. I hopes yo’ git it, fo’ women certainly do need protextion against men like Judge Mullowny. He has us allatime picked up an’ sen’ down here.