MABEL POTTER DAGGETT WOMEN WANTED The story written in blood red letters on the horizon of the Great World War BY MABEL POTTER DAGGETT AUTHOR OF “IN LOCKERBIE STREET,” ETC. Illustrated NEW YORK GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY COPYRIGHT, 1918, BY GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY COPYRIGHT, 1917, 1918, BY THE PICTORIAL REVIEW COMPANY PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA To My Friend KATHERINE LECKIE THE ILLUMINATION OF WHOSE PERSONALITY HAS LIGHTED MY PATHWAY TO TRUTH, THIS BOOK IS AFFEC

Glimpsing the Great World War “ Who goes there?” I hear it yet, the ringing challenge from the war offices of Europe. Automatically my hand slides over my left hip. But to-day my tailored skirt drapes smoothly there. The chamois bag that for months has bulged beneath is gone. As regularly as I fastened my garters every morning I have been wont to buckle the safety belt about my waist and straighten the bag at my side and feel with careful fingers for its tight shut clasp. You have to be thoughtf

Close Up Behind the Lines “ It is going to be perhaps a dangerous undertaking,” says the French army officer the next day in the reception room at Maison de la Presse. He is speaking solemnly and impressively. “Do you still wish to go?” he asks, addressing me in particular. I look back steadily into his eyes. “ Oui, Monsieur. ” Then his glance sweeps inquiringly the semicircle of faces. There are six journalists and a munitions manufacturer from Bridgeport, Connecticut. And they all nod assent.

Her Country’s Call One Thousand Women Wanted! You may read it on a great canvas sign that stretches across an industrial establishment in lower Manhattan. The owner of this factory who put it there, only knows that it is an advertisement for labour of which he finds himself suddenly in need. But he has all unwittingly really written a proclamation that is a sign of the times. Across the Atlantic I studied that proclamation in Old World cities. Women Wanted! Women Wanted! The capitals of Europe h

Women Who Wear War Jewelry There is a new kind of jewelry that will be coming out soon. We shall see it probably this season or at least within the next few months. It will take precedence of all college fraternity pins and suffrage buttons and society insignia and even of the costliest jewels. For it will be unique. Since no American woman has ever before worn it. As a Mayflower descendant or a Colonial Dame or a Daughter of the Revolution, you may have proudly pinned on the front of your dress

The New Wage Envelope The baby had been fretful all that hot summer day. Every time he was passed over to the eldest little girl, he cried. So Mrs. Lewis had to keep him herself. All the twenty pounds of him rested heavily on her slender left arm while she went about the kitchen getting supper. With one hand she managed now and then to stir the potatoes “warming over” in the pan on the stove. She put the pinch of tea in the pot and set it steeping. And she fried the ham. She set on the table a l

The Open Door in Commerce Something has just happened. A hidden hand has touched a secret spring. A closed door in a blank wall has opened. And one in the long cloak of authority seems to be standing at the threshold pleasantly beckoning the Lady to cross formerly forbidden portals. For I feel like that, like a little girl living in a fairy tale that is turning true right before my eyes. This morning there has arrived in my mail a letter personally addressed to me from the New York University Sc

Taking Title in the Professions They are the grimmest outposts of all that mark the winning of the woman’s cause. But they star the map of Europe to-day—the Women’s War Hospitals. Out of the night darkness that envelops a war-ridden land, a bell sounds a faint alarm. From bed to bed down the white wards there passes the word in a hoarse whisper: “The convoy, the convoy again.” Instantly the whole vast house of pain is at taut attention. Boyish women surgeons, throwing aside the cigarettes with w

At the Gates of Government The man in khaki stood at the door. And he held a woman close to his heart in mansion or cottage—in a rose bowered cottage on the English downs, or red roofed behind the yellow walls of France and Italy, or blue trimmed beside a linden tree in Germany, or ikon blessed in Russia. All that he had in the world, his estates, his fields or his vineyards, his flocks or his factory, his shop or his job, his home and his children, he was leaving behind. “I leave them to you, d

The Rising Value Of a Baby You unto whom a child is born to-day, unto you is this written. I bring you glad tidings. Blessed are you among the nations of the earth. Wise men all over the world are hurrying to bring you gifts. Only lift your eyes from the baby at your breast and in your mirror I am sure you shall see the shining aureole about your head. Exalted are you, O, woman among all people. Know that you have become a Most Important Person. Governments are getting ready to give your job a p

The Ring and the Woman That woman who crossed the threshold of the Doll’s House awhile ago—you would scarcely recognise her as you meet her to-day anywhere abroad in the world. She has put aside yesterday as it were an old cloak that has just slipped from her shoulders. And she stands revealed as the one of whom some of us have for a long time written and some of us have read. For a generation at least she has been looked for. Now she is here. You see when her country called her, it was destiny