e unions and
from trade unions into strikes. There had been a strike of laundry girls
which for a week was the talk of the town. Sue and some of her suffrage
friends had organized meetings every night, and in a borrowed automobile
she had rushed from meeting to meeting with two laundry women, meager
forlorn-looking creatures who stood up much embarrassed and awkwardly
told about their lives. One of them, a young widow, had gone home from
work one night at eleven and found that her small baby had died of
convulsions during her absence. It was grim, terrible stuff of its kind,
and Sue was so intensely wrought up you'd have thought there was nothing
else in the world. But the strike stopped as suddenly as it began, and
the two women whose names she had brought into headlines were refused
jobs wherever they went. Sue tried to help them for a while, until this
suffrage parade came along, when she went into this equally hard and
quite forgot their existence.

And then Eleanore took them up. Quietly and as a matter of course, she
took their troubles on her hands, sent one to a hospital and got the
other work, looked into their wretched home affairs and had them come
often to see her. And this kind of thing was happening often, Sue taking
up and dropping what Eleanore then took up and put through. I compared
them with a glow of pride.

Eleanore's way was so sane and sure. She looked upon society much as she
did upon our son, who had frequent little ailments but through them all
what a glorious growth, to watch it was a perpetual joy. I remember
once, when in his young stomach there were some fearful goings on,
Eleanore's remarking:

"Now if Sue had a child with a stomach in trouble, I suppose her way
would be to quickly remove the entire stomach and put some new radical
thing in its place."

And then she went to the medicine chest, and a vastly comforted Indian
was soon cheerfully sitting up in bed.

Eleanore could help others, I felt, because she had first helped
herself, had tackled the mote in her own eye, from the time when she had
gone down to the harbor to get her roots, as she called it. She was a
wonderful manager, our budget was carefully worked out. And she had
herself so well in hand she could put herself behind herself and smile
clearly out on life.

"When Eleanore takes up a charity case," said her father, "she turns it
into a person at once, and later into an intimate friend."

He himself took a quiet int