across the table from mine every night the rest of my life!"

Reading to the children, she would retail to me such incidents as:

"Then I read them the Gospel stories, ... and they were too funny--R--
trying to show me how Herod looked, and J-- suggesting charitably that
perhaps his wife was good. 'No,' said R--,'the whole family was bad!'"

"In the spring I am going to take an old farmhouse, give the children
one brown garment apiece, and plan a scheme of living that will leave
something over for other children."

And this appealed to her:

"Well, if it is not in the Fall of 1918, it will be in 'one of those
houses Our Lord is building' as J-- remarks casually. Did I tell you
of the little village in the North Carolina hills where H-- and S. L--
spent the summer, where the women raised enough sheep to cut the wool,
card, and spin and weave the clothes the family wore?"

In the winter of 1914 she first visited Augusta, Georgia, where my
father was stationed, and there the campaign against Child Labor, in
which she was always vitally interested, became doubly real in
necessity to her as she went through the cotton mills and saw
conditions at close range. She always gave what sums she could to this
cause. In 1915, perhaps the most famous year of the woman suffrage
battle, she was campaigning, speaking, watching all day at the polls
in her village of Port Washington, Long Island. I remember her
speaking from the stage of the Republican Club against a clever anti-
suffragist from New York. Her voice reached out for something in the