Chapter 12

Daisy looked over their newly rented assembly hall. With large windows in front and four oak double doors opening into a large

foyer, it would work well for meetings, concerts, and even the occasional ball. They would use one of the two office spaces

for a coat check and the other as a repository for minutes and plans until they could be transferred to the permanent building

just two doors up the avenue. This had been a good idea.

Especially seeing the number of members in attendance today to hear Mrs.Florence Kelley speak on the importance of the new

child labor laws. Daisy had been determined to book the forceful and persuasive Mrs.Kelley ever since she'd heard her speak

at the New York Child Labor Committee at Carnegie Hall a few weeks before.

She'd held the audience spellbound as she enlightened them on the plight of working children throughout the country, and especially

on their own doorsteps in the city.

"Just across the river," Mrs.Kelley continued, "New Jersey has done much to relieve children of this burden, but we are woefully

behind in following their lead. With your and others' support, the New York Child Labor Committee can make those inadequacies

change.

"The army of child laborers is increasing daily, from the fields to the mines, to right here in the sweatshops and factories

of the city—our city—of New York. Nearly every state either has failed to pass protective laws or ignored the ones already

in force. And our state is among the most culpable.

"Between the lack of education, poor diet, and poverty, what future will these poor souls have, with their learning nonexistent, their creativity ignored, their bodies and minds stunted from work and fatigue and meager diets? Caught between the greed of the factories and the need and sometimes selfishness of their parents. They must have someone to fight for them. More compassion, yes, but we also need to act.

"I urge you to join us in spreading the truth of this situation. Thank you."

The hall erupted into enthusiastic applause.

Daisy was one of the most enthusiastic. She'd already considered forming a subcommittee on the subject.

As she made her way to the podium to thank Mrs.Kelley, more than one member stopped her long enough to express their concern

or their surprise at the prevalence of child labor. And their determination to make a change.

"And so young," cried Emmie Winthrop, her eyes swimming in tears. "The poor lambs."

"Action, not tears, Emmie," Alva said, taking her arm.

Daisy smiled and kept moving to the front of the hall. Anne Morgan had an interest in child labor conditions. She would talk

to her about forming a committee. Which would probably get the club more bad press. Honestly, you couldn't win. One minute

the newspapers and clergy were throwing out outrageous accusations that the club would create lazy, indolent wives and mothers,

destroy family values, and undermine morality. In the next, they were warning the women to stay out of politics and progress.

It was infuriating. It was also a challenge.

"Thank you for such an informative program," Daisy said, extricating Mrs.Kelley from a knot of enthusiastic questioners.

"It was my pleasure. I must say I had no idea your group would be so well conversant in the plight of children in the workplace.

Such interest and intelligent questions."

"We strive to keep ourselves well-informed and active in bettering our society," Daisy assured her. She had been a little concerned about presenting such a depressing subject, considering they were approaching Christmas. But with the monthly luncheon concert scheduled for next Tuesday, the rehearsals for the Christmas tableaux vivant in aid of the St. Anne's Home for Girls, and an evening of holiday poetry and songs by the Aid Society children's choir the following week, what better time to bring attention to those children who had little to celebrate in their lives.

Several more ladies stopped Daisy and Mrs.Kelley on their way to the foyer to show their appreciation before pulling their

coats closer and hurrying out into the cold.

Anne greeted them at the door. She was holding Mrs.Kelley's wool coat. "To avoid the crush of the cloakroom. You must come

back and report on your progress when we get our permanent clubhouse. The conditions of workers in general and children in

particular are a concern of mine," Anne said matter-of-factly. "And Mrs.Harriman has been instrumental in convincing the

authorities to reduce the hours they are made to work."

"Indeed?"

"Yes," Daisy said. "We'll be organizing plans to do more. I was introduced to the Parisian bill to limit hours this past summer,

where they instituted a ten-hour workday for children. The Colony Club will push for even shorter hours and for the law to

enforce the existing age limit of fourteen. No child should grow up under the circumstances you have just described."

"No, they shouldn't," said Mrs.Kelley, pulling on well-worn leather gloves. "But many have no choice. They are often the

breadwinners of their families, as hard as it is to believe."

"Like those poor newsboys," said Mary Dick, coming up to join the conversation.

"At least the boys have boardinghouses where they can get a bed and warm food," Anne said. "But it isn't nearly enough. Thank you very much for your enlightening talk."

"It was my pleasure. But I must run. I look forward to establishing a continuing relationship with the Colony Club. We women

hold an untapped source of power to change things. And we must use it. Good day."

"I must run, too," said Lillian. "Alva has offered me a ride home. I suppose I'll have to hear her rattle on about women voting.

But I'm interested if you form a child labor committee."

"Thank you, we will be," Daisy said, but Lillian was already hurrying out the door.

"Count me in, too," Anne continued.

"I'm tapping you to organize it, if you will."

"Certainly. And I'm sure there will be interest. Since we decided to rent the assembly hall for the duration, our attendance

has soared. I'll be glad when the permanent building is finished. But for now I would be thankful for a cup of tea."

"Well, if you can forgo tea for a few more minutes, Bessie and I have been promised a quick tour of the construction site,

if you'd like to accompany us. Stanford has put his assistant, Mr.Douglas, in charge of overseeing the site. Thank heavens.

He's promised to meet us here—ah, this must be he arriving now."

They watched as a tall blond-haired young man navigated his way through the departing women. He was quite good-looking and

several of the ladies glanced his way as they passed.

Daisy waved. He nodded and stepped off to one side to wait for her.

Daisy and Anne quickly retrieved their coats, pulled Bessie from a group of gesticulating women, and met Mr.Douglas at the

door.

"Mrs.Harriman?" he asked and introduced himself. "Shall we?" He ushered the three ladies out the door for the short walk

to the building site.

On the way, he explained the conditions they would find. "But don't be alarmed—when all the pieces are together and it's painted and furnished, you will have the most beautiful clubhouse in the city."

Charming and with a glib tongue , thought Daisy.

They were indeed only two doors away, and often their talks and meetings had been interrupted by the distant sound of construction.

"Now please stay close to me. A construction site can be quite dangerous. This will be the front entrance," he continued,

leading them through a heavy temporary doorway beneath a steel lintel and down what appeared to be a hallway.

"On your left are temporary structures we use for storage and a site office."

"An office?" Daisy asked. "Do you have heat?" It was freezing inside the building. How could they possibly get any work done?

"No, the electricity won't be laid on until near completion and any open flame would be a fire hazard."

"Your fingers must freeze to your pencils," Bessie quipped.

"It can be a bit nippy," he agreed and flashed Bessie a charming smile.

They entered the main floor, and he explained where the offices, library, tearoom, and such would go, even though now it was

just a maze of beams and crossbeams.

"Is it hard to imagine the end result?" he asked suddenly. "I can see it. Plenty of light through the large windows, enough

places for everyone to enjoy." As he described the various features, the others followed his gaze, and soon Daisy felt as

if she could see it, too.

"We're standing just above the swimming pool," George said. "Unfortunately, access to it now is very limited. On the floor

above us, the gymnasium and track are already in progress."

"Can we see it?" Anne asked.

"I'm afraid not today. There's only the ramp to that floor, and it is too dangerous for visitors just quite yet."

Daisy could believe it. They had stopped near a tall scaffolding of pipes and platforms that rose to the ceiling. It didn't

look sturdy enough to hold brawny men like the one hurrying toward them.

"Mr.George," he huffed and scowled beneath a full beard and bushy eyebrows. "Pardon, ladies, but there's someone to see you.

Had something for you. I said I'd take them, but she wouldn't take no for an answer, insisted on waiting."

"She?" asked George.

"A little spit of a thing."

"That would be MissBromley," George said. "Where is she?"

The man pointed up to the scaffolding. "Up there. Took off before I could stop her. Climbed it like a regular monkey."

"Good heavens," George said, looking up the scaffolding.

Daisy, Bessie, and Anne looked up, too.

"Bromley!" he yelled.

Nothing happened for a long moment, then slowly a petite little face appeared over the edge high above them. Daisy bit back

a gasp.

"Oh, good, you're back," she answered in a melodic, assured voice.

"What the—What are you doing up there?"

"I've got some reconfiguration plans for you. I'll be right down."

They all watched, speechless, as one foot with stockings in full view swung over the side and found purchase on the first

rung of pipe. Daisy held her breath as the scaffolding swayed. Then the second foot followed and the girl descended as easily

as if it had been a stepladder. She jumped to the floor, turned, and, seeing four people staring back at her, exclaimed, "Oh,"

and tugged at the waistband of her skirt. The hem of her skirt promptly fell down to the floor.

Bessie clapped her hands together. "Brava, my dear. That's the best entrance I've seen in years."

The girl smoothed her skirt, touched her hair. She was petite and fine-boned and looked too frail to be capable of that athletic

climb. But perhaps what Daisy mistook for frailty was merely sinew. And good for her.

She was shivering, not from fright or embarrassment, Daisy thought, but from the cold. She looked around, saw the threadbare

coat lying over a wooden contraption. She lifted it off the wooden bar and gave it a brisk shake before handing it to the

girl. "Put this on before you catch your death. Your lips are absolutely blue."

She did as she was told, all the while looking warily at George Douglas. While she fumbled with the buttons with no doubt

numb fingers, Daisy had to stop herself from doing them up for her.

George didn't look any too pleased, but he turned his smile on the other three and said smoothly, "Ladies, may I present MissBromley,

our newest... uh..." He seemed to fumble for a word. "Draftsman and, uh, member of the architectural firm."

Daisy and the others smiled back.

"And an expert climber into the bargain," Daisy said.

MissBromley cut an apprehensive look at George, and Daisy quickly added, "An asset to any architectural firm, I'm certain."

The girl didn't react, didn't relax or smile, but just stood there thrumming with energy.

"I think she's marvelous," Anne said.

Skittish as a colt , Daisy thought. Would she be in trouble for her feat of derring-do? Then Daisy recognized her. Small stature, the sharp,

quick eyes. "Aren't you one of the girls from the School of Applied Design? We were at the end-of-year awards ceremony. The

tuberculosis hospital," she exclaimed. "You took first place."

"Yes, ma'am."

"That's right," Bessie said. "I told Stanny he should snap a few of you up. Looks like he took my suggestion."

"And now you're working on our clubhouse," Daisy said. "We're delighted to have a woman on the team. That will make it even

more special."

"I'll add my brava to that," Anne said.

For a brief moment an emotion flickered across the girl's face, not relief or pride, but curiosity. Now what on earth could

that mean?

"Well, we won't take any more of your time, Mr.Douglas. Thank you for our tour. We can see that our clubhouse is in good

hands."

"Of course it is," said Bessie, "but I'm ready for a glass of sherry. Nice meeting you, MissBromley, George. Come along,

ladies."

He showed them back to the entrance and saw them safely to the sidewalk.

Bessie shook her finger at him as soon as they were outside. "George, you'll all have pneumonia before the interior walls

go up. Are you really bivouacking in the office for the duration?"

"It's more efficient if I'm on-site."

"Well, go get yourself some tea. And take that girl with you. Her lips were absolutely blue. Ladies, shall we? But I suggest

something a little more spirituous since none of us will be climbing anything more today until we climb into bed. And, George,

do what I tell you," she repeated before she hurried the other two women down the sidewalk.

Nora hadn't moved while George saw the three women out. She hadn't been aware of the cold while she'd been up on the scaffolding

talking with Mr.Wojcik.

She also hadn't been aware of her own tawdriness until she was standing before those women in their fancy hats and fur-collared overcoats. What must they think, her skirt hiked up, her blouse wrinkled, her hair mussed? She knew what her mother would say.

She licked her fingers and pushed her fallen tresses behind her ears just as George Douglas returned.

She immediately started in with her explanation, hoping it would allay any anger.

"Mr.White sent me over to give you the new specs for the..." She looked around.

"They're up here!" came a voice from the scaffolding.

Nora let out a relieved breath; she'd forgotten about them while she'd been experiencing architecture firsthand. "You weren't

here, but I was told the foreman, Mr.Wojcik, was, so I went up to give them to him. And I asked what he was doing and he

was kind enough to show me how the cantilevers were used to support the cornices, and explained the difference between the—But

you already know that. But I didn't, so he took me through the steps of how they were installed. So much faster than reading

about it and trying to figure it out on your own. I guess I lost track of time and—"

"Bromley, stop babbling."

Nora snapped her mouth shut. "Am I in trouble?"

"No, but you could have been—"

His next words were cut off as Mr.Wojcik himself climbed down the scaffolding and hurried toward them, carrying the tube

of plans. "Don't go yellin' at the girl, George. She's brighter than most of the men working this job."

He handed Nora the plans. "You come back any time, miss. We'll be installing the gymnasium running track next week. Now that's

a real good example of cantilever construction." He turned to George. "But she needs better shoes."

And a split skirt, Nora thought, like the ones the bicyclists wore. She'd hate to ask more of Mama, but perhaps she could

redo one of Nora's old skirts to fit. She still had her sewing machine from her days doing piecework.

"And..." Mr. Wojcik bent closer to George and lowered his voice. "Some long johns if she's gonna spend much time here. The poor mite's half frozen."

George cut a look toward Nora and blushed.

"I'll, um, have MissHiggins take care of the necessities," he said. "But for the moment, Bromley—"

"Yes?"

"I've been instructed by the ladies to take you to tea. They're afraid working here will give you pneumonia. And they may

be right." He took the plans from her. "C'mon, then." He strode toward the door.

Nora snatched her shawl from the sawhorse and threw a quick thank-you over her shoulder to Mr.Wojcik.

"I should really get back to the office," Nora said, hurrying after him.

"Not until you explain these, as you said you must. And since I'm not standing here another minute in the cold, you'll have

to explain it to me over a—a cup of tea."

"I can explain it here. It will only take a minute. Mr.White just wasn't sure what version we were on."

Mr.Douglas shook his head. "Neither am I. Look, I've been out here most of the day. I need something warm if I'm supposed

to concentrate on this latest change. So, tea. There's a little place right around the corner where we have lunch sometimes.

And don't worry, it's my treat."

"I can pay," Nora bit back. What was she saying? She needed every penny.

He slowed. "Don't argue. The place is respectable. And..." He grinned. "So am I." He slipped her hand into the crook of

his arm.

It felt strange walking down the street in the company of a young man, her fingers touching the wool of his coat. She wanted to dig them into the warmth it offered. The thought of a cup of tea in a warm place suddenly sounded wonderful. And it would sustain her for the trolley ride back to the office.

The café was around the corner and half a block west, small and comfortably warm. A portly rosy-cheeked woman wearing an apron

greeted them. "Well, Mr.George, this is a surprise."

"Good afternoon, Mrs.Tova, this is a... colleague of mine, MissBromley."

"Ah, a colleague, and much prettier than Mr.Wojcik. Sit yourselves down and I'll bring something nice for you."

She hurried away. Mr.Douglas pulled out a chair for Nora and she somehow sat down without tripping over her own numb feet.

What a day; there would be so much to tell Rina next time they met.

Mr.Douglas sat down across the small table from her.

Nora kept her head down, suddenly feeling more awkward than usual. She heard him open the tube, slip out the plans, and spread

them out.

She twisted in her seat to see better since she was viewing the plans upside down.

He realized that and moved them so they could both see. They were in full discussion, any awkwardness of the situation forgotten,

when Mrs.Tova returned with tea, sandwiches, and little cakes.

Nora's mouth dropped open. They hadn't ordered all this. How would she ever repay Mr.Douglas for this generosity?

Mrs.Tova set everything on the table. "We close in about forty minutes and I didn't want all this to go to waste. You don't

have to eat anything you don't want."

She put two heavy mugs of steaming tea on the table while Mr.Douglas returned the plans to the carrying tube. Nora immediately

wrapped her fingers around her mug to warm them.

"Wonderful, Mrs.Tova. We'll be glad to help you out."

Mrs.Tova chuckled and bustled away.

Mr. Douglas looked over at Nora. "Eat up. You wouldn't want to hurt her feelings." He took a plate and piled it high with food and placed it in front of Nora.

"But Mr.Douglas..."

"And would you mind calling me George? Mr.Douglas reminds me of my father—he's nice enough in his way, but..." He shook

his head in a way that made Nora laugh.

"So, Bromley," he said, looking over the plate of sustenance. "Where did you learn to climb like that? Did you used to live

in the country?"

"I've never been to the country," she admitted.

"No?"

"I've been to Brooklyn."

"Ah. And is that where you learned your feats of daring?"

Was he making fun of her? Did she really want to confess that until today this was the farthest north in Manhattan she'd ever

been? Well, she wasn't ashamed of her background.

"No, I learned it on the fire escapes of Perry Street running from boys who would take my lunch pail."

He stopped, a sandwich inches from his mouth. "Oh, I'm sorry."

"Well, don't be," Nora said, the sandwich turning to sand in her mouth. "My family is respectable. My father was a good tailor,

before he died. My mother and two sisters live in Brooklyn and..." She put her sandwich down. Her eyes suddenly threatening

to fill with tears. And my brother should be here, not me.

"I didn't mean that. I just meant that I'd never bothered to ask you about yourself before. Very ill-mannered of me."

Nora shook her head.

"Eat, or you'll hurt Mrs.Tova's feelings."

She picked up the sandwich. "Were those ladies today members of the club?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Mrs. Harriman. She's the president. The heavyset lady is Miss Marbury, a big theatrical agent, and Miss Morgan is J. P.'s daughter."

"I've heard of him. The banker."

"Right."

"Do you know them?"

"Only acquainted because of the building. Way above my touch."

"Why do they need a club?"

"I don't know. Men have clubs, I guess they wanted one, too."

"But dog rooms and running tracks; it all seems silly."

"Maybe, but it keeps us employed."

"Can I come back to the site?"

"Of course. We're both going to be stuck on this project for a while. Does this mean you're coming over to my way of thinking?"

"Maybe. Mr.Wojcik told me such fascinating things..."

The rest of the sandwiches and cakes and a second mug of tea were quickly taken care of as they talked about architecture

and building sites, and after a thankful farewell to Mrs.Tova, they were again on the street.

And Nora realized she had been gone for hours. Panic nearly knocked her off-balance. "I shouldn't have been gone so long.

I have to... They'll wonder where I am." Not thinking, she started off down the street toward the trolley stop.

"Hey." George caught up to her. "Where are you going?"

"To the trolley."

"They sent you on the trolley? Cheapskates. Learn to stand up for yourself, Bromley. It's the only way, or they'll walk all

over you. Come along."

"Where are we going?"

"To the office, but the taxi stand is this way."