Suffragette Read Online Free PDF Page B

tall, skinny gentleman with a beard. He was wearing a tweed suit and seemed to be
holding court, talking rapidly in a thick Irish accent.
    “Who’s he?” I whispered to Flora.
    “His name is George Bernard Shaw, a rather well-known music critic and playwright, and an active supporter of women’s rights. He wrote a play two or three years ago,
The
Doctor’s Dilemma
, whose leading character is named Sir Bloomfield Bonnington. He swears he didn’t steal the name from Father,” she grinned.
    Then, while Flora chatted animatedly to her colleagues, I stood gazing in every direction. There was such a buzz of energy fed by the excitement and the determination to win this battle against
the current Liberal government. Well, against all anti-suffrage governments. In fact, against anyone who claims that women are lesser citizens than men and are not capable of understanding
politics. Suddenly, my eyes lighted on a stand where a large white, purple and green banner had been hung.
    “Do you know what those colours represent?” Elizabeth asked me.
    “They are the colours of the Women’s Social and Political Union.”
    “Yes, but why those three in particular?”
    I shook my head.
    “Purple stands for dignity, white for purity and green for hope. But why don’t you go and find out for yourself? Don’t worry, I’ll tell Flora where you’ve
gone.”
    “Thank you,” I said, hurrying off through the crowds. There were quite a few people queuing to ask questions but eventually I was able to push my way forward to a desk where a
red-haired woman with pince-nez was presiding over piles of pamphlets. Her job was to explain to all those interested what the aims of the WSPU are. I told her that I knew all about the fight and
that my dream was to become a member.
    “Well, why not join now?” she replied in a broad Scottish accent.
    “Might I?” I was thrilled at the prospect but also a bit scared. I can’t quite explain why. Well, yes, I can. I think it was because I felt as though I was being treacherous to
Flora, who had made it clear that she is a suffragist not a suffragette, and that Lady Violet had also leaned towards the less militant approach. Then I reasoned that Lady Violet would want me to
be true to myself. Above all else, I believe that is what she would demand of me.
    But will it make that much difference if I join? I was asking myself. And my silent response was that these are the women I admire and want to be affiliated with. These are the women, if any,
who could change the hardships that housewives such as my mother are forced to endure.
    The Scottish lady handed me a form, which I filled in and signed after barely a glance before thrusting it nervously back at her.
    She read my name and said, “Welcome, Dollie Baxter. We are delighted that you are with us. Feel free to visit our offices at 4, Clements Inn, whenever you fancy. Think of it as your home.
My name is Harriet Kerr and I am the office manager.”
    “I’ll be there, Miss Kerr,” I said, and I hurried away in search of Flora.
    On our way home in her new Fiat motor car Flora told me more about her Irish playwright friend, Mr Shaw. He’s a Socialist and a fighter for the rights of the poor. I am not madly
interested in plays – actually, I have never been to a theatre show – but I would dearly love to meet him and ask him many questions.
    25th May 1909
    Flora is my very best friend and I love her like a sister, but I have not yet plucked up the courage to confess to her that yesterday I joined the suffragettes. Though I did
feel desperate enough over breakfast to blurt out my desire not to return to Cheltenham.
    “But it is a very fine institute and your education is of the utmost importance, Dollie. Surely you realize that? And Grandma went to such lengths –”
    “Yes, I know, but without her close at hand, it will never be the same again. If it’s possible, I would prefer to continue my education here. I feel at home in