ment with the Redpath Bureau which left me
fully two-thirds of my time for the suffrage work

I loved.
This was one result of my all-night talk with Miss

Anthony in Chicago, and it enabled me to carry
out her plan that I should accompany her in most

of the campaigns in which she sought to arouse the
West to the need of suffrage for women. From that

time on we traveled and lectured together so con-
stantly that each of us developed an almost uncanny

knowledge of the other's mental processes. At any
point of either's lecture the other could pick it up

and carry it on--a fortunate condition, as it some-
times became necessary to do this. Miss Anthony

was subject to contractions of the throat, which for
the moment caused a slight strangulation. On such

occasions--of which there were several--she would
turn to me and indicate her helplessness. Then I

would repeat her last sentence, complete her speech,
and afterward make my own.

The first time this happened we were in Washing-
ton, and ``Aunt Susan'' stopped in the middle of a

word. She could not speak; she merely motioned
to me to continue for her, and left the stage. At the

end of the evening a prominent Washington man
who had been in our audience remarked to me, con-

fidentially:
``That was a nice little play you and Miss An-

thony made to-night--very effective indeed.''
For an instant I did not catch his meaning, nor

the implication in his knowing smile.
``Very clever, that strangling bit, and your going

on with the speech,'' he repeated. ``It hit the au-
dience hard.''

``Surely,'' I protested, ``you don't think it was a
deliberate thing--that we planned or rehearsed it.''

He stared at me incredulously. ``Are you going
to pretend,'' he demanded, ``that it wasn't a put-up

job?''
I told him he had paid us a high compliment, and

that we must really have done very well if we had
conveyed that impression; and I finally convinced

him that we not only had not rehearsed the episode,
but that neither of us had known what the other

meant to say. We never wrote out our speeches,
but our subject was always suffrage or some ramifica-

tion of suffrage, and, naturally, we had thoroughly
digested each other's views.

It is said by my friends that I write my speeches
on the tips of my fingers--for I always make my

points on my fingers and have my fingers named for
points. When I plan a speech I decide how many

points I wish to make and what those points shall
be. My mentalpreparation follows. Miss An-

thony's method was much the same; but very fre-
quently both of us threw over all our plans at the last

moment and spoke extemporaneously on some theme
suggested by the atmosphere of the gathering or by

the words of another speaker.
From Miss Anthony, more than from any one else,

I learned to keep cool in the face of interruptions
and of the small annoyances and disasters inevitable

in campaigning. Often we were able to help each
other out of embarrassing situations, and one incident

of this kind occurred during our campaign in South
Dakota. We were holding a meeting on the hottest

Sunday of the hottest month in the year--August--
and hundreds of the natives had driven twenty,

thirty, and even forty miles across the country to
hear us. We were to speak in a sod church, but it

was discovered that the structure would not hold half
the people who were trying to enter it, so we decided

that Miss Anthony should speak from the door, in
order that those both inside and outside might hear

her. To elevate her above her audience, she was
given an empty dry-goods box to stand on.

This makeshift platform was not large, and men,
women, and children were seated on the ground

around it, pressing up against it, as close to the
speaker as they could get. Directly in front of Miss

Anthony sat a woman with a child about two years
old--a little boy; and this infant, like every one else

in the packed throng, was dripping with perspiration
and suffering acutely under the blazing sun. Every

woman present seemed to have brought children with
her, doubtless because she could not leave them

alone at home; and babies were crying and fretting
on all sides. The infant nearest Miss Anthony fretted

most strenuously; he was a sturdy little fellow with
a fine pair of lungs, and he made it very difficult for

her to lift her voice above his dismal clamor. Sud-
denly, however, he discovered her feet on the dry-

goods box, about on a level with his head. They
were clad in black stockings and low shoes; they

moved about oddly; they fascinated him. With a
yelp of interest he grabbed for them and began

pinching them to see what they were. His howls
ceased; he was happy.

Miss Anthony was not. But it was a great relief
to have the child quiet, so she bore the infliction of

the pinching as long as she could. When endurance
had found its limit she slipped back out of reach,

and as his new plaything receded the boy uttered
shrieks of disapproval. There was only one way to

stop his noise; Miss Anthony brought her feet for-
ward again, and he resumed the pinching of her

ankles, while his yelps subsided to contented mur-
murs. The performance was repeated half a dozen

times. Each time the ankles retreated the baby
yelled. Finally, for once at the end of her patience,

``Aunt Susan'' leaned forward and addressed the
mother, whose facial expression throughout had

shown a complete mentaldetachment from the situa-
tion.

``I think your little boy is hot and thirsty,'' she
said, gently. ``If you would take him out of the

crowd and give him a drink 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.