scurry of skirts. It is
worthy of mention that nothing definite had transpired. The speeches of
the ardent suffragettes from the wilds of London were all that the most
exacting could have demanded, for they covered all of the known and a
great many of the unsuspected iniquities that the masculine flesh is
heir to, but except for an introductory sentence or two they failed to
touch upon the object of the meeting. They all began with something
like "While I am frank to admit that Doraine is a very pretty name," or
"Notwithstanding the fact that Doraine is a lovely name," or "If I had
a child of my own, I should not in the least object to calling her
Doraine," and so on and so forth, but they cruelly abandoned the baby in
the next breath, leaving it to be revived by the ensuing speaker.

The rain came just in time to prevent a vote being taken on a motion
made by Miss Gladys Spotts. She moved that a committee of three be
appointed to serve notice on Captain Trigger, et al, that it was the
unanimous sense of the meeting that the women should not only have
voice and vote on all public questions, but also representation in the
official government. She had learned that there was talk of electing
a mayor, a town clerk, a treasurer, a sheriff and a board of
commissioners, and it ought to be understood in advance that--

The torrent came at that instant, but it requires a very slight
stretching of the imagination in order to understand precisely what Miss
Spotts insisted ought to be understood.

It rained very hard all night, and thundered, and lightened, and blew
great guns. Not one, but all of the women, tucked away in their bunks,
wondered how those poor men were faring out there in that black and
lonely camp!

The next morning it was still raining. (In fact, it rained steadily for
three days and nights.) Betty Cruise died shortly after daybreak, and
with her death ended the controversy over the naming of her babe.

She was the first to be laid to rest in the burying-ground on Cape
Sunrise. Services were conducted on the Doraine by the Reverend Mr.
Mackenzie, assisted by Father Francisco. All work was suspended on the
morning of the funeral. Shortly before noon the entire company walked,
in a long, straggling procession, from the landing to the spot three
miles distant where the lonely grave awaited its occupant. Careni-Amori
sang "Lead, Kindly Light" and "Nearer, my God, to Thee," at the
graveside. There were tears in a