in the greatest
revolution the world had seen? Some such mental playing with
possibilities seemed to lurk behind the intent reflective face.

'There are far too many voters already,' her sister had flung out.

'Yes--yes, a much uglier world they want to make!'

But in the power to make history--if these people indeed had that, then
indeed might they be worth watching--even if it were only after one good
look to hide the eyes in dismay. That possibility of historic
significance had suddenly lifted the sordid exhibition to a different
plane.

As the man, amid howls, ended his almost indistinguishable peroration,
the unmoved chairman stepped forward again to try to win back for the
next speaker that modicum of quiet attention which he, at all events,
had the art of gaining and of keeping. As she came forward this time one
of her auditors looked at the Woman Leader in the Crusade with new
eyes--not with sympathy, rather with a vague alarm. Vida Levering's air
of almost strained attention was an unconscious public confession: 'I
haven't understood these strange women; I haven't understood the spirit
of the mob that hoots the man we know vaguely for their champion; I
haven't understood the allusions nor the argot that they talk; I can't
check the history that peasant has appealed to. In the midst of so much
that is obscure, it is meet to reserve judgment.' Something of that
might have been read in the look lifted once or twice as though in
wonderment, above the haggard group up there between the guardian lions,
beyond even the last reach of the tall monument, to the cloudless sky of
June. Was the great shaft itself playing a part in the impression? Was
it there not at all for memory of some battle long ago, but just to mark
on the fair bright page of afternoon a huge surprise? What lesser accent
than just this Titanic exclamation point could fitly punctuate the
record of so strange a portent!--women confronting the populace of the
mightiest city in the world--pleading in her most public place their
right to a voice in her affairs.

In the face of this unexpected mood of receptivity, however unwilling,
came a sharp corrective in the person of the next speaker.

'Oh, it's not going to be one that's been to prison!'

'Oh, dear! It's the one with the wild black hair and the awful "picture
hat"!' But they stared for a few moments as if, in despite of
themselves, fascinated by this lady be-feathered, be-crimped, and
be-ring