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moment.
    â€œHere is my daughter, Lord,” prayed the mother, “not yet fully in bloom. Restore her childlikeness, even in the midst of the great city’s tumult. Protect her, watch over her. Shine your light upon her—yes , and send your rains as well, that when the time comes for her to truly bloom, she will open the face of her heart toward you, and know you to be her Father.”



 6  Sister Suffragettes
    Chants of “Votes for women . . . votes for women!” filled the air.
    Marchers filled a busy London street from one side to the other. It was Friday, November 18—soon to be known as Black Friday. Most of those present were dressed nicely, as was the custom of women who had time on their hands.
    Half the protesters carried placards. All noisily proclaimed the case for women’s rights.
    Their bannerettes read “Asquith Has Vetoed the Bill” and “Where There’s a Bill, There’s a Way.” The marchers had been summoned because it had at last become painfully clear that British Prime Minister Herbert Henry Asquith intended to do nothing to move what was known as the Conciliation Bill on to its vital third reading in the House of Commons.
    The bill, which would have given about a million women in Great Britain the vote, it was now clear, was merely designed to mollify the suffragettes. After passing its first reading, Mr. Asquith allowed it to languish, and Mrs. Emmeline Pankhurst had finally had enough. Her husband, the late Liberal barrister from Manchester, had been the author of the first women’s suffrage bill in Great Britain in the late 1860s, and had remained at the forefront of the fight for women’s rights throughout his life. His wife had then taken up the cause where he left off. By this time, the name Emmeline Pankhurst had become synonymous in Great Britain, not merely with women’s suffrageitself, but with growing militancy. She had become a political force to be reckoned with, and everyone in Parliament knew it.
    The fact that little more than half the women, and none of the men who chanced to pass, paid these protesters heed only roused the passions of the orators yet higher.
    As they went, more women joined them, and gradually the crowds on the sidewalks also increased. Toward the rear, a handful of rabble-rousers and students with nothing better to do, young men mostly, seemed intent on disruption.
    Perceiving the opportunity for a good time at the expense of the demonstrators, these hecklers followed along, tossing out comments of rebuke. The taunts and shouts began good-naturedly. But now, with the activists returning in kind, throwing challenge back to challenge, some of the jeers grew lewd, others angry. But still the women kept on.
    Meanwhile, the police, who had been alerted of the march in advance, were already on the way. In the distance a few sirens and whistles sounded their approach.
    The year was 1910, and the suffragette movement in England was picking up steam. Whether the island kingdom would witness the advent of universal suffrage anytime soon may have been doubtful. But proponents of the cause were certainly making themselves heard around the world—not only in Britain, but in Finland, New Zealand, and across the Atlantic in America.
    Beside Emmeline Pankhurst and her two daughters Christabel and Sylvia marched their twenty-year-old protégée, Amanda Rutherford.
    That the daughter of Sir Charles and Lady Jocelyn Rutherford of Devonshire had so actively joined their cause gave special delight to the leaders of the movement. Their enthusiasm was heightened in that Rutherford himself—former leader in the House of Commons and, prior to his sudden and unexpected retirement six years ago, considered by many a leading candidate for the premiership in the 1905 elections—had given no public statements to discourage speculation that perhaps he was in support of his daughter’s position.
    Sir