ry
street, the first turn in the line of march. Then, far away, the blare
of a band. "Here they come!" Just then, far down the canyon of Fifth
avenue, sounded the cry that had always swayed Elm street, Winnebago.
"Here they come!"

"What is it?" Fanny asked a woman against whom she found herself
close-packed. "What are they waiting for?"

"It's the suffrage parade," replied the woman. "The big suffrage parade.
Don't you know?"

"No. I haven't been here." Fanny was a little disappointed. The crowd
had surged forward, so that it was impossible for her to extricate
herself. She found herself near the curb. She could see down the broad
street now, and below Twenty-third street it was a moving, glittering
mass, pennants, banners, streamers flying. The woman next her
volunteered additional information.

"The mayor refused permission to let them march. But they fought it, and
they say it's the greatest suffrage parade ever held. I'd march myself,
only--"

"Only what?"

"I don't know. I'm scared to, I think. I'm not a New Yorker."

"Neither am I," said Fanny. Fanny always became friendly with the woman
next her in a crowd. That was her mother in her. One could hear the
music of the band, now. Fanny glanced at her watch. It was not quite
two. Oh, well, she would wait and see some of it. Her mind was still too
freshly packed with European impressions to receive any real idea of
the value of this pageant, she told herself. She knew she did not feel
particularly interested. But she waited.

Another surging forward. It was no longer, "Here they come!" but, "Here
they are!"

And here they were.

A squad of mounted police, on very prancy horses. The men looked very
ruddy, and well set-up and imposing. Fanny had always thrilled to
anything in uniform, given sufficient numbers of them. Another police
squad. A brass band, on foot. And then, in white, on a snow-white
charger, holding a white banner aloft, her eyes looking straight ahead,
her face very serious and youthful, the famous beauty and suffrage
leader, Mildred Inness. One of the few famous beauties who actually
was a beauty. And after that women, women, women! Hundreds of them,
thousands of them, a river of them flowing up Fifth avenue to the park.
More bands. More horses. Women! Women! They bore banners. This section,
that section. Artists. School teachers. Lawyers. Doctors. Writers. Women
in college caps and gowns. Women in white, from shoes to hats. Young
women.