Read Online The Quilter's Legacy by Jennifer Chiaverini - Free Book Online Page B

of all. “I'd like to see him tell that to the girls on my floor,” she said, wiping a tear from an eye. “They'd drown him in their dye pots.”
    “We cannot abandon any of our sisters,” said Miss Langley in her clear, precise tones. “A laundress may have as much reason as the wealthy woman who employs her. We cannot deny the workers their voice.”
    The ruddy-cheeked woman applauded but the woman in blue silk looked to the heavens and sighed. “Reason, but no education. Do we want the ignorant masses determining the fate of our nation?”
    Miss Langley fixed her with a level gaze. “You sound very much like the men who argue that no woman should vote.”
    “You care more about your workers than the rights of women.”
    Voices rose in a cacophony that hushed at a quiet word from the elderly woman in the corner. “Women who own substantial property are so few in number that their votes would scatter like dandelion seeds on the wind.” Her voice was low and musing. “No, it must be all women, including colored women, including those who cannot yet read and write or even speak English. Yes, they should learn, and we must see they are taught.”
    She sipped her tea, but not one of those listening would have dreamed of interrupting. “Our emancipation must be twofold. We must have the vote, but we will not be truly independent until we are independent economically as well as politically.”
    “Hear, hear,” said Miss Langley quietly, as the others murmured their assent.
    The elderly woman smiled fondly at her. “And to that end, you must continue your work.”
    Miss Langley nodded.
    The elderly woman went on to say that she hoped they would attend the demonstration, and she would express their concerns to the others in her organization. Then she rose, bid them farewell, and departed, accompanied by one of the younger women in the group.
    The meeting broke up after that; Miss Langley spoke quietly with a few of the others, then took Eleanor by the hand and led her back down the creaking staircase and outside. Eleanor pondered the strange gathering as they walked back to the train station, so absorbed in her thoughts that she forgot the cramp in her side and her labored breathing. She was sure she heard Miss Langley tell the ruddy-faced woman something about a union and something more about a strike.
    As the station came into view, Miss Langley broke her silence. “You were a good girl, Eleanor.” Then she laughed, quietly. “I imagine today was quite an education for you.”
    Eleanor nodded, but she didn't think she had learned very much because she had so many questions. She had understood enough, though, to realize Miss Langley would be discharged if Eleanor's parents discovered her activities.
    “Miss Langley,” she ventured as they boarded the train, “who was that woman, the one everyone listened to?”
    Miss Langley did not reply until they had seated themselves in an unoccupied compartment. “We call her Miss Anthony. She is the leader of an important organization, and the rest of us were honored by her visit.”
    “When she said you must continue your work …” Eleanor hesitated. “She didn't mean being my nanny, did she?”
    “No.”
    Eleanor waited for her to explain, but when she said nothing, Eleanor asked, “Are you a confounded radical?”
    Miss Langley burst into laughter. “I suppose some people would call me that, yes.”
    Eleanor did not think that was such a terrible thing. Even Mother wanted to vote. Eleanor had heard her confess as much to Harriet, although she would never mention such a shocking thing to Father or Mrs. Newcombe. But she did not understand the rest of it.
    She took a deep breath. “You're not the one trying to get a union at Father's store, are you?”
    “Eleanor, listen to me.” Miss Langley took her hands. “Unions are important and just. Only when all the workers speak with one voice can they hold any leverage against the owners. The influence of power and