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“Why,” he said, “you're going to be a member of the Industrial Commission. Don't you know that?”

I roared with laughter. I said, “Oh, no, Mr. Havens, you're completely wrong. You're seeing ghosts or something.”

“Oh, no, I have it! I have it!”

I said, “How would you have it? You're a Republican. Do you mean to tell me you're in the close circles of the Democratic party?”

“I have it! I know it's true. I know it. I want to be the first to congratulate you.”

I said, “It's very nice of you,” and so forth. As I thought it over to myself I thought it was most unlikely. There was no sense in it. I wasn't in the line. I wasn't a figure in the Democratic party. I was still purely personal. I was a social worker and my only contact with politicians had been with those in Albany asking them to pass various bills. I had had a good deal of contact with them, but it hadn't been a political one. It had been a personal one. I was a social worker and I had never done anything whatever about their elections except that with hundreds and thousands of other people I had taken some little part in the Smith campaign, but no more than thousands of others. In the first place it would be most unlikely that a woman would be