Omaha daily bee., 1916-06-22
The Little Old
w oman at the Big,
|New Convention
By ADA PATTERSON.

She was small and stopped and her
hair was white as a drift of new fallen
snow. The blue ribbon with its
silver-letter-spelled word Delegate"
looked strange on that narrow, black
clad breast-at first But only at
first. 1t was the spirit of the bien'
NAL convention of the General Fed
Grafton of Women's Clubs to be ~
terested in everything and surprised
at nothing.
learned that that blue ribbon was
not jest, nor mistake. 1t was the
little old woman's badge of honor.
She was a delegate to the convention.
The club in a village far from the
metropolis had canvassed its talent
and had decided that she was the
wisest woman among them. They
concluded that being the wisest she
would gather more wisdom in the
worlds capital and bring back more
of it than would some younger and
more foolish woman.
am sure they were right. Every
day when | dropped in to hear some
distinguished speaker or gather in
spiration from that assemblage o.
$4,000. women, | looked for the LITTLE
woman with the white hair and the
big, blue badge. She was always
there, her delicate face, scanned with
the marks of time, turned toward the
platform. She was like whitening
flower drinking the long-delayed dew
She was a human flower and her
thirst was for MISUNDERSTANDING
not of the world of her bygone youth,
but the world of today with its new
problems, its new needs, its new solu-
tons.
The sun shone, too, upon the
whitening flower. Younger women OF
the convention stopped beside her.
A glance at the badge on the breast
was an introduction at the convention
They asked her what she thought OF
the governors address and listened
with smiling attention while she said
that it would reconcile her to the
navy taxes at home if she knew the
rise in them was due to measures for
the public health. They timed their
quick, vigorous steps to her slower
ones on their way to the officers mess
room that had been changed into a
tea and lunch room for the conven-
ton at the armory. A neighbor,
watching her with soft eyes, as she
took notes in her unsteady hand, Of a
lecture on "The Americanization OF
the Immigrant" whispered:
Wont you rest your note book on
this book? l shan't need it"
"A determined looking young
woman in a green silk dress, whisked
her into a cab while the little woman
hesitated, wistfully clutching her thin
little purse, and said:
ITO the Metropolitan Museum of
Art. I must have an intelligent per-
son with me while l look at the pic
lures" -.
The convention was teaching these
younger delegates not merely the
sisterhood Of woman, but the daugh-
terhood of women 81.
For the little woman in the black
suit the heavens were opened-the
heavens of new intellectual domain.
The old horizon had given way to a
wider. She had done we'll her work.
She had been a good wife, a good
mother, a good housekeeper. And
now that her life's companion had
preceded her beyond the sunset, that
her children had married and moved
away and were represented to her for
the most part by letters, since she
had sold the old house and was liv-
ing in cottage down the street, she
had felt lonely and useless. But she
would never again feel lonely and use
less. She would be companioned,
though alone, by these women who
in their home towns were carrying
forward the work of making their
homes, their neighborhoods, their
towns, their state and their country
better and finer. She was going home
to tell the women OF the club all the
wonderful things she had heard. She
was proud that she could remember
the gist of all the lectures. The thin,
old hand, with its withered back was
firmer the day she looked back at the
armory for the last time and started
on the sea trip to Coney Island on
the convention play day. Her hand
must be strong and steady, for it bears
torch