should get certain introductions and do a lecturing tour in New York
and try to make Suffrage 'fashionable.' The answer came by return of
post, and was deliciously typical. 'My dear, your idea is so absolutely
mad that it must be thoroughly sane. Come and talk it over.'

"It was a happiness to work with Dr. Inglis, for her confidence, once
given, was complete. There were no petty inquiries or pedantic
regulations. 'Do it your own way,' was the one comment on a plan of
organization once it was settled.

"Dr. Inglis was one to whom the words 'can't' and 'impossible' really
and literally had no meaning; and those who worked with her had to
'unlearn' them, and they did. It did, indeed, seem 'impossible' to leave
for India at ten days' notice to carry on negotiations for the Scottish
Women's Hospitals and raise an Indian fund, especially when one had been
in no way officially or intimately connected with the Hospitals' work.
And to be told on the telephone, too, that one 'must' go. That was
adorably Dr. Inglis-ish. I laughed with glee at the very ridiculous,
fantastic impossibility of the whole thing--and promptly went! And how I
looked forward to seeing Dr. Inglis on my return! When she saw me off at
Waterloo in 1916, and, still fearfully ignorant of what awaited one, I
wailed at the eleventh hour (literally, for we were in the railway
carriage), 'But where am I to stay and where am I to go?' 'Don't worry,'
said Dr. Inglis, with that sublime faith and optimism of hers; 'they'll
put you up and pass you on. Good-bye, my dear. _It will be all right_.'
And so it was. But one has missed the telling of it all to her; the hard
things and the good things and the dreadfully funny things. For she
would have appreciated every bit of it, and entered into every detail."