I think all women who attended the convention felt better for the statement of their wrongs, believing that the first step had been taken to right them.
Soon after this I was invited to speak at several points in the neighborhood.

One night, in the Quaker Meeting House at Farmington, I invited, as usual, discussion and questions when I had finished.

We all waited in silence for a long time; at length a middle-aged man, with a broad-brimmed hat, arose and responded in a sing-song tone: "All I have to say is, if a hen can crow, let her crow," emphasizing "crow" with an upward inflection on several notes of the gamut.

The meeting adjourned with mingled feelings of surprise and merriment.

I confess that I felt somewhat chagrined in having what I considered my unanswerable arguments so summarily disposed of, and the serious impression I had made on the audience so speedily dissipated.