n audience, for, as I have said, the women were
admitted before the men. My next neighbor in the line said he had been
there three days in succession without getting into the hall."

"Well, I'll go in the morning, and I'll come home with a pass in an
hour, I promise you."

The next morning Mrs. Lively started for the hall at eight o'clock,
determined to procure a place at the head of the line. But, early
as was the hour, she found the doors already besieged. There were
at least three dozen women ahead of her. She took her place very
ungraciously at the foot of the line. At nine the doors were opened,
and the first comers admitted. Ten o'clock came, and Mrs. Lively was
still in the street--had not even reached the stairs. Eleven o'clock
came--she stood on the second step. At length she had reached the top
step but one, and it was not yet twelve.

"It doesn't seem fair," she said to the doorkeeper, "that the men
should have to wait, day after day, till all the women in the city are
served."

"No," assented the keeper, "it is not fair. Now, there are men in that
line who have been here for four days. They'd have done better
and saved time if they'd gone to work in the burnt district moving
rubbish, and earned their railroad passage."

Mrs. Lively's suggestion of unfairness proved an unfortunate one for
her, for the keeper conceived the idea of acting on it.

"It isn't fair," he repeated, "and I mean to let some of those fellows
in."

"Oh, do let me in first," she cried, but the keeper had already
beckoned to the head of the other line, and was now marching him into
the hall.

"No use for you to try for a pass," said the inner doorkeeper after a
few words with the petitioner. "You must have a certificate from some
well-known, responsible person that your means were all lost by the
fire, or you cannot get an audience. Must have your certificate, sir,
before I can pass you to the committee."

The man thus turned back went sorrowfully down the steps into the
street, and the next man passed in-doors.

"You want a pass for yourself," said the inner keeper. "The committee
refuse in any circumstances to issue passes to able-bodied men. If you
are able to work, you can earn your fare: plenty of work for willing
hands. No use in arguing the matter, sir," he continued resolutely:
"you can't get a pass."

"But I haven't a dollar in the world," persisted the man.

"Plenty of work at big prices, sir. Women and children a