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thoughts or feelings.”
    She went to her desk and looked at the sheet of paper on which she’d written her thoughts and information regarding her meeting with Deborah Denning.
    “I won’t desert them. I won’t stop because Garrett Wilson fears for my safety. What of the safety of those women—of their children? Surely that is the more reasonable consideration. My safety is hardly threatened compared to theirs.”
    She carefully put her papers in the desk drawer. “Besides, I’m doing a good thing. Surely God would not allow harm to come to someone when she is doing His work.”

CHAPTER 7

    “ M ia, there is something we wish to discuss with you,” her father stated at breakfast the next morning.
    Mia looked up from her plate of fresh fruit and smiled. “Of course. What is it?”
    She noted that her mother looked uncomfortable, refusing to give more than a cursory glance in Mia’s direction.
    “Your mother and I are quite concerned about this . . . this . . . position you have with the Godey people.” He held up his hand even as Mia opened her mouth to protest. “Please hear me out.”
    Mia put her fork down and nodded. “Very well.”
    Her father squared his shoulders. “In the beginning your interest seemed harmless enough. Writing about table settings and proper fashion seemed acceptable for a refined lady. But little by little your attention has been completely taken over by the magazine and the issues that concern them. A few hours a week soon evolved into a few hours every day. And simple issues of interest to women were transformed into political arguments and causes.”
    He paused only long enough to lean back in his chair. “Mia, it was never our desire that you take on employment. It does not become a woman of your social status. You have no need to work, and in fact may well be keeping some other decent soul from a much-needed job.”
    Mia frowned at that thought. She’d never considered the situation in that way. True, she only received a pittance for her work, but even that amount would take a poor woman far. Unfortunately, she thought, not many women of lower status had the education required to perform the job needed.
    “Further, it is something that grieves your mother greatly. The subject is often discussed among our friends.”
    “And they find it most alarming,” her mother put in. “They fear their own daughters will want to imitate your actions. They’ve pleaded with me to influence you to stop.” She put her hand to her forehead. “The whole matter has given me horrible headaches.”
    “It’s also put you in danger—”
    “Who said that?” Mia interrupted, nearly coming up out of her chair.
    Lyman Stanley frowned as he surveyed Mia. “No one has said anything. Even I cannot say what I mean if you interrupt me.”
    She relaxed a bit. “I’m sorry. You both know how important this job has been to me. I feel I must defend it and myself.”
    “As I started to say, I fear you are in danger of passing up the chance to marry and settle down. The men in our circle of friends do not wish to have a wife who labors. The very thought is unappealing and lends you a masculine air.”
    “A masculine air? In what way?” She could not imagine.
    “You concern yourself with the issues of labor and politics, for one,” her mother said. Mia could see the disapproval in her mother’s eyes. “I have been quite humiliated to have it pointed out to me that you probably know more about such issues than many of the men with whom your father associates.”
    “There is nothing wrong with having knowledge,” Mia declared. “Why, they allow women in colleges these days. Here in Philadelphia they are even opening the medical field to women with a college all their own.”
    “And I find such things deplorable,” her mother admitted. “Even scandalous. What woman—especially an unmarried woman—has the right to educate herself about such things as the male anatomy?”
    Mia wanted to laugh