In a Gilded Cage (Molly Murphy, #8)

“It is indeed,” I said, deciding to keep quiet about Daniel’s tendency toward chauvinist ideas. “Do you have a young man yourself?”


She blushed prettily. “I do. He works at the same drugstore as I, but he’s studying hard. He’s a real apprentice and Mr. McPherson is teaching him the art of compounding medicines. He’s very good at it too. He has a brilliant brain. It’s a pity his family has no money and that he didn’t have a chance to further his education at a university.”

“You said you are also having to make your own way in the world,” I said. “How did you manage to go to Vassar?”

“Relatives paid for me,” she said, and I saw a trace of annoyance cross her face. “But look, the parade is starting ahead of us. See those carriages moving off?”

We started to walk. The wind tugged at our banners and the effort of holding them aloft made conversation impossible. As we entered Fifth Avenue the crowd became aware of us. I heard some shouts of encouragement as well as some wolf whistles and improper suggestions. “Show us a bit of leg, girlies. You’ll never find yourself a husband dressed like that. Where are your Easter bonnets?”

Among these was a buzz of genuine disapproval. “Women will never get the vote,” one man shouted, stepping out to wave a fist at us. “Over my dead body.”

“That’s what comes of educating women,” another man yelled. “Keep ’em home having babies. That’s their rightful place.”

“Can you imagine what a mess of silliness there would be if women had a say in running the country?” the first man countered. “Why, they might even try to elect a woman president.”

There was a roar of laughter at this suggestion.

“Go home, girls. Go back where you belong and stop making fools of yourselves.”

“You seem to be the one making a fool of yourself at the moment, sir,” one of the young women ahead of us said calmly. “Now please stand back and let us proceed.”

Emily and I glanced at each other. I had never considered that our little demonstration would turn ugly. Or that people would react so violently. I noticed that there were women among those shouting abuse at us. Some looked sorry for us. The term bluestocking was repeated as we processed up the avenue.

“I think we shall not have an easy fight on our hands,” I said to Emily, as the parade ahead of us halted for a moment.

“No, it certainly won’t be easy. Most women are content with their lot and have no wish to worry about politics.”

“But it’s not just politics, is it?” I said. “It’s about having a say in the running of a community.”

“Of course it is. Local measures regarding water and transportation. School bonds. Women have no voice in things that are important to them—their health, their safety, and their children. This is what we have to get across to the women of America. But they don’t want to listen.”

The parade moved on again. Since we were following a considerable number of horse-drawn carriages, we had to walk carefully and watch where we put our feet. As I looked down something struck me on the shoulder. I reacted with alarm and saw that my costume was now caked with mud. Another clod of mud struck the hat of the woman in front of me. A roar of laughter went up from the crowd.

“Pay no attention to them,” Emily said. “It’s just urchins amusing themselves.”

“Go home!” The chant rose again.

We marched on, chins held high as mud spattered our banners.

Suddenly a man darted out from the crowd. “Lucinda. What do you think you are doing!” he shouted, grabbing the arm of one of the young women at the head of our procession. “Leave this absurd farce at once. You are embarrassing yourself and your family.”

He was a young man with an impressive mustache and he carried a silver-tipped cane.

“Go away, Laurence,” the girl said, shaking him off. “It’s none of your business what I choose to do. And it is you who are embarrassing me.”

“I will not allow you to make a fool of yourself like this. You are coming with me.” He started to drag her out of the line.

“Let go of me. I’m not leaving my friends. This is a free country. I’ve a right to express my opinion.” The girl was shouting now.

“Leave her alone!” the girl behind her joined in the fray.

More men from the crowd dashed out and soon there was an out-and-out fracas. Whistles were blown and policemen appeared.

“All right. Enough of this,” one of them said sternly. “Step aside. Move out of the way and let the parade proceed.”

“But we’re part of the parade,” Sid said.

“Not anymore, miss. You’re causing a right disturbance but I’m letting you off with a warning. Disperse now and go home or I’ll have to arrest you for disturbing the peace.”

“We were doing nothing but marching peacefully,” Sid said. “It was that man who attacked a member of our group.”

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