nk of water and
unfasten his clothes, I am sure he would be more comfortable." Before
she had finished speaking the woman had sprung to her feet and was
facing her with fierce indignation.

"This is the first time I have ever been insulted as a mother," she
cried; "and by an old maid at that!" Then she grasped the infant and
left the scene, amid great confusion. The majority of those in the
audience seemed to sympathize with her. They had not seen the episode of
the feet, and they thought Miss Anthony was complaining of the child's
crying. Their children were crying, too, and they felt that they had
all been criticized. Other women rose and followed the irate mother, and
many men gallantly followed them. It seemed clear that motherhood had
been outraged.

Miss Anthony was greatly depressed by the episode, and she was not
comforted by a prediction one man made after the meeting.

"You've lost at least twenty votes by that little affair," he told her.

"Aunt Susan" sighed. "Well," she said, "if those men knew how my ankles
felt I would have won twenty votes by enduring the torture as long as I
did."

The next day we had a second meeting. Miss Anthony made her speech early
in the evening, and by the time it was my turn to begin all the children
in the audience--and there were many--were both tired and sleepy. At
least half a dozen of them were crying, and I had to shout to make my
voice heard above their uproar. Miss Anthony remarked afterward that
there seemed to be a contest between me and the infants to see which
of us could make more noise. The audience was plainly getting restless
under the combined effect, and finally a man in the rear rose and added
his voice to the tumult.

"Say, Miss Shaw," he yelled, "don't you want these children put out?"

It was our chance to remove the sad impression of yesterday, and I
grasped it.

"No, indeed," I yelled back. "Nothing inspires me like the voice of a
child!"

A handsome round of applause from mothers and fathers greeted this noble
declaration, after which the blessed babies and I resumed our joint
vocal efforts. When the speech was finished and we were alone together,
Miss Anthony put her arm around my shoulder and drew me to her side.

"Well, Anna," she said, gratefully, "you've certainly evened us up on
motherhood this time."

That South Dakota campaign was one of the most difficult we ever made.
It extended over nine months; and it is impossible to describe