“That’s good, then. You’ve already had practice.”
Mrs. Schaefer was down at the other end of the room talking to one of the girls. “There’s the superintendent,” Constance said. “Do your very best.”
When Mrs. Schaefer came around, Constance told her that Minnie was a good worker who knew her way around a knitting machine and a jute mill. Minnie obliged and said that it all looked very familiar.
“We’re always looking for girls with experience,” Mrs. Schaefer said. “You wouldn’t believe how many runaways we get. Girls who have never worked a day in their lives and want only to get out from under their parents and to do as they please. We’re not in the business of helping girls to go against their parents and run wild. There’s no fraternization with the men, and I want you in a good reputable boarding-house if you’re not going home at night.”
Constance said, “You won’t have any trouble from Miss Davis. She has every reason to work hard and to do well. She’s to room with Edna Heustis. I’d like a word with Edna if she can be excused.”
Mrs. Schaefer seemed satisfied with that. “If you two girls can help each other, and stay out of trouble, I’ll put you on the line.”
Edna was plainly nervous when she saw Constance, but when the matter was explained to her, she agreed at once to share her room with Minnie. The two girls shook hands solemnly, and Constance reminded them that she would be back to look in on them.
Mrs. Schaefer took Minnie off to be outfitted for her uniform. While she was gone, Constance told Edna what she hadn’t wanted to say in front of them.
“I know your room’s awfully small as it is, but it’ll save you both a little money. And to be honest, I’d like you to keep an eye on her.”
Edna nodded, wide-eyed. “Has she done something terribly wrong?”
“No, of course not. She’s had a difficult time, but it’s nothing you haven’t heard before. I took quite a risk and, honestly, this is the only chance she’s going to have. I’m asking for your help, Edna. Do what you can to be a good influence on the girl, and promise me that you’ll send for me right away if she starts to go even a little bit wrong.”
Constance was worried that Edna would be furious with her for putting her with a girl like Minnie, but Edna seemed pleased to be entrusted with the responsibility and said that she would do what she could. “She’ll learn to like it here, just like I have.”
Edna seemed so sure of herself, and so accepting of the very little that life had given her. If Constance was being honest, she would’ve admitted that she put her sympathies in with Minnie, who wanted so much more than factory work and a rented room in a small town. But there was nothing she could do for Minnie’s ambitions, other than to win her a small measure of freedom.
“I’ll be back to check up on you,” Constance promised. “You’re both my responsibility, and I want to see you do well.” She said her good-byes to Edna and told her to walk home with Minnie and get her settled.
The five o’clock bell rang just as Constance left. As she walked back to the train station, she could hear dozens of girls calling to one another, their voices clear and free in the cold air.
IT WAS IMPOSSIBLE TO MOVE a cot into Edna’s room. Instead, after much grunting and moaning and pushing and shoving, Edna’s brass bed went out and two cots went in. “I hope you girls get along,” Mrs. Turnbull said when she saw the arrangements. “You hardly have enough room to turn around.”
After she left, Edna and Minnie sat on their cots and faced each other. Minnie’s ambition was to sneak away that very night, or perhaps the next, and to go straight to New York, where she would take on a new name and a new life. But then Edna said the most remarkable thing, and Minnie stopped thinking about New York all at once.
What Edna said was: “It’s just like the Army.”
Minnie gave her a puzzled look.
“I mean, with the cots. You can almost imagine us in a military camp outside of Paris.”
Minnie shifted around on her cot and took in the rest of the room. Edna’s war literature was everywhere: there were leaflets on the wall, brochures on her bookshelf, and lessons and diagrams scattered across her floor, all of them having to do with bandages and signal flags and uniforms.
“What is all of this?” Minnie asked.
Edna watched as Minnie picked up a brochure and paged through it. Although Minnie was only sixteen, she had a certain swagger about her that Edna envied. Minnie was, as her mother might have said, brash: She was tall and broad-shouldered, she talked loudly, and she waved her arms around for dramatic effect. There was something larger than life about her. She picked up Edna’s things as if she owned them. She seemed like a girl who knew what to do.
It would be impossible to keep a secret from Minnie. Finally Edna said, “This . . . ah . . . it has to do with the war.”
Minnie looked up at her, her mouth hanging open. “The war?”
“Yes. In France.”
Minnie rolled her eyes; that much was obvious. “What about it?”
“I . . . well, I intend to go. To serve. In France.”
Minnie looked up abruptly and dropped the pamphlet. She leaned forward toward Edna, her elbows on her knees.
“You? By yourself?”
55
“I AM NOT GOING OUT there in front of his spies.” May Ward was only half-dressed, having ripped another seam in her haste and carelessness. She was leering at the audience from behind the curtain.
“But no one’s spying on you,” Fleurette whispered. She was frantically trying to stitch the seam without stabbing Mrs. Ward with the needle.
“You just haven’t seen them. It’s someone different in every town, but I can always tell one of Freeman’s operatives. They’re all the same breed of stocky matron like you see standing around in cheap dance halls. You wouldn’t know about that, would you, Florine?”
“Oh, I can imagine,” Fleurette said. She’d been trying very hard not to think of home, but at the mention of stocky ladies in dance halls, a warm wet lump came up in her throat and she had to push it down.
Mrs. Ward had taken her drinks too early in the day, which was always a disaster, as it made her drowsy right before the show. Fleurette tried to chase after her with coffee, but May simply waved it off and felt around in her bosom for a little vial of reviving powder she kept hidden there.
But tonight the powder was all gone, and the coffee made her violently ill. She was on her knees, ostensibly to allow Fleurette to make the repair to her dress, but it soon became clear that she couldn’t get back to her feet unaided.
Three pairs of dance slippers appeared around them. Fleurette looked up to see Bernice, Eliza, and Charlotte looking down at them.
“She can’t go on tonight,” Bernice said.
“Of course I can,” May Ward spat.
“Is she still on about the men following her everywhere?” asked Eliza.
“They’re not men. They’re very unattractive ladies,” said May.