'Hear, hear,' said Ernestine.
'I was simply a woman whose standing in the community was all right, but I had nothing to recommend me to serious attention. I had nothing but the courage to look wrong in the face, and the conscience to report it honestly. When I told her certain things—things that are so stinging a disgrace that no decent person can hear them unmoved—when I told her of the degrading discomforts, the cruelties, that are practised against homeless women even in some of the rate-supported casual wards and the mixed lodging-houses, that lady said—sitting there in her pleasant drawing-room—she said it could not be true! My reports were exaggerated—women were sentimental—the authorities managed these places with great wisdom. They are so horrible, I said, they drive women to the streets. She assured me I was mistaken. I asked her if she had ever been inside a mixed lodging-house. She never had. But the casual wards she knew about. They were so well managed she herself wouldn't mind at all spending a night in one of these municipal provisions for the homeless. Then I said, "You are the woman I am looking for! Come with me one night and try it. What night shall it be?" She said she was engaged in writing a book. She could not interrupt her work. But I said, if those rate-supported places are so comfortable, it won't interfere with your work. She turned the conversation. She talked about the Commission. The Commission was going to make a thorough scientific investigation. Nothing amateur about the Commission. The lady was sincere'—Mrs. Thomas vouched for it—'she had a comfortable faith in the Commission. But, I say'—the woman leaned forward in her earnestness—'I say that Commission will waste its time! I don't deny it will investigate and discuss the position of the outcast women of this country. Their plight, which is the work of men, will once more be inquired into by men. I say there should be women on that Commission. If the middle and upper class women have the dignity and influence men pretend they have, why aren't they represented there? Nobody pretends the matter doesn't concern the mothers of the nation. It concerns them horribly. Nobody can think so ill of them as to suppose they don't care. It's monstrous that men should sit upon that committee alone. Women have had to think about these things. We believe this evil can be met—if men will let us try. It may be that only women comprehend it, since men through the ages have been helpless before it. Why, then, once again, this Commission of men? The mockery of it! Setting men to make their report upon this matter to men! I am not a public speaker, but I am a wife and a mother. Do you wonder that hearing about that Commission gave me courage to take the first opportunity to join these brave sisters of mine who are fighting for political liberty?'
She seemed for the first time to notice that a little group of sniggerers were becoming more obstreperous.
'We knew, of course, that whatever we say some of you will laugh and jeer; but, speaking for myself, no mockery that you are able to fling at us, can sting me like the thought of the hypocrisy of that Commission! Do you wonder that when we think of it—you men who have power and don't use it!—do you wonder that women come out of their homes—young, and old, and middle-aged—that we stand up here in the public places and give you scorn for scorn?'
As the unheroic figure trembling stepped off the bench, she found Vida Levering's hand held out to steady her.
'Take my seat,' said the younger woman.
She stood beside her, for once oblivious of Ernestine, who was calling for new members, and giving out notices.
Vida bent over the shapeless mauve bundle. 'You asked that woman to go with you. I wish you'd take me.'
'Ah, my dear, I don't need to go again. I thought to have that lady see it would do good. Her husband has influence, you see.'