have more money because of my job, we havenât had any outings at all. I wish I could
be more
for Marm,
do more
for herâI think she is getting older and more tired. I must make an effort to spend time with her, if I can.
November 14, 1906
I âm not sure how it happened, but it appears that the strange science fellow has found himself seriously interested in me, though I canât say I return the feeling. He has waited after work to walk me home twice this week, to my great embarrassment. I donât want Mr. Soper to see me associating with him; I donât think my chief likes this boy much. I have turned him down, yet he follows me like a pup. His stare troubles me, and the prospect of his touch is distasteful. I suppose the best I can do is to ignore him, and perhaps heâll leave me be.
November 16, 1906
I t turns out that there was a cook who worked for the family back in August that none of the Thompson household had thought to mention. When we asked specifically about the peach ice cream, they all remembered this woman as the one who made it. Mrs. Thompson went over her housekeeping records for us and came across the womanâs information. She said her name was Mary Mallon, and described her as fortyish, tall, heavy, Irish from Ireland, in perfect health, and not known to have ever had an attack of the typhoid. She was not a person of many words. Apparently, she kept to herself, quietly cooking adequate meals and retiring to her room when her job was done. She did not stand out in anyoneâs mind (except for the ice cream), and left after three weeks, just after the illness hit.
Mr. Soper thinks this cook Mary may very well be thekey to our case. Thereâs one problem: We canât find her. It seems she changed employment bureaus, and the one who hired her out to the Thompson family hasnât heard from her. They sent us over to Mrs. Cleangloveâs Handy Helpers, but they have not seen her either. The man at Handy Helpers was very forthcoming and gave us a list of residences where she has worked for him in the last five years. Mr. Soper wonders if she has taken ill, or has left the city, in which case our whole lead may fall apart. He says Monday we will begin with a concerted search for this woman, physically traveling house to house until we find her.
The cook has no record of the typhoid, nor any significant illness, so Iâm not sure I understand exactly why Mr. Soper suspects she is at the heart of our case. Usually typhoid is carried by a person who suffers from the disease. If this woman didnât become ill at the Thompsonsâ, and never contracted the fever, I donât follow Mr. Soperâs line of thought.
I fear we may be traversing down another dead end.
November 23, 1906
W hite ribbons snake into my heart as our work progresses, deathly white ribbons that frighten me.
We started off the search for Mary Mallon with the only information available to usâthe record of the families the cook worked for over the last five years. We took upon ourselves the task of visiting every household on the list. Mr. Soper wanted to know if they remembered the cook, and if they knew anything about her past, or her present whereabouts.
I feared a blind search that would yield nothing. Who would remember a cook from five years past, and why would they keep track of her? And how would we explain our purpose in looking for a woman whoâs never been sick, but who supposedly carries disease?
But Mr. Soperâs instincts were right.
At the first house, a surly maidservant answered, and my chief introduced himself and explained that we were from the Department of Health and Sanitation and were looking for one Mary Mallon. The girlâs face shuttered completely, and she said she didnât know anything about the cook. It happened to us more than once this week. I think there is some code of silence among these servants: The moment they sense trouble, their
be more
for Marm,
do more
for herâI think she is getting older and more tired. I must make an effort to spend time with her, if I can.
November 14, 1906
I âm not sure how it happened, but it appears that the strange science fellow has found himself seriously interested in me, though I canât say I return the feeling. He has waited after work to walk me home twice this week, to my great embarrassment. I donât want Mr. Soper to see me associating with him; I donât think my chief likes this boy much. I have turned him down, yet he follows me like a pup. His stare troubles me, and the prospect of his touch is distasteful. I suppose the best I can do is to ignore him, and perhaps heâll leave me be.
November 16, 1906
I t turns out that there was a cook who worked for the family back in August that none of the Thompson household had thought to mention. When we asked specifically about the peach ice cream, they all remembered this woman as the one who made it. Mrs. Thompson went over her housekeeping records for us and came across the womanâs information. She said her name was Mary Mallon, and described her as fortyish, tall, heavy, Irish from Ireland, in perfect health, and not known to have ever had an attack of the typhoid. She was not a person of many words. Apparently, she kept to herself, quietly cooking adequate meals and retiring to her room when her job was done. She did not stand out in anyoneâs mind (except for the ice cream), and left after three weeks, just after the illness hit.
Mr. Soper thinks this cook Mary may very well be thekey to our case. Thereâs one problem: We canât find her. It seems she changed employment bureaus, and the one who hired her out to the Thompson family hasnât heard from her. They sent us over to Mrs. Cleangloveâs Handy Helpers, but they have not seen her either. The man at Handy Helpers was very forthcoming and gave us a list of residences where she has worked for him in the last five years. Mr. Soper wonders if she has taken ill, or has left the city, in which case our whole lead may fall apart. He says Monday we will begin with a concerted search for this woman, physically traveling house to house until we find her.
The cook has no record of the typhoid, nor any significant illness, so Iâm not sure I understand exactly why Mr. Soper suspects she is at the heart of our case. Usually typhoid is carried by a person who suffers from the disease. If this woman didnât become ill at the Thompsonsâ, and never contracted the fever, I donât follow Mr. Soperâs line of thought.
I fear we may be traversing down another dead end.
November 23, 1906
W hite ribbons snake into my heart as our work progresses, deathly white ribbons that frighten me.
We started off the search for Mary Mallon with the only information available to usâthe record of the families the cook worked for over the last five years. We took upon ourselves the task of visiting every household on the list. Mr. Soper wanted to know if they remembered the cook, and if they knew anything about her past, or her present whereabouts.
I feared a blind search that would yield nothing. Who would remember a cook from five years past, and why would they keep track of her? And how would we explain our purpose in looking for a woman whoâs never been sick, but who supposedly carries disease?
But Mr. Soperâs instincts were right.
At the first house, a surly maidservant answered, and my chief introduced himself and explained that we were from the Department of Health and Sanitation and were looking for one Mary Mallon. The girlâs face shuttered completely, and she said she didnât know anything about the cook. It happened to us more than once this week. I think there is some code of silence among these servants: The moment they sense trouble, their
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