Free The Fall Of White City (Gilded Age Mysteries Book 1) by N. S. Wikarski Page A

approached the table, she realized the speaker was Ellen Archwick who had founded the settlement along with Jane Eaves. While Jane Eaves battled for the rights of the poor with quiet determination, Ellen Archwick was a more colorful figure. If the former was the strategist, the latter was the field marshal. Her directness of speech sometimes even gave Evangeline pause—a rare occurrence.
    “... and so I found the whole approach entirely disgusting,” Miss Archwick concluded as Evangeline walked up to the table. The speaker looked over her pince-nez at the newcomer. “Evangeline, quite a surprise to see you here. Sit down and join us.” The words sounded more like a command than a request.
    Evangeline complied, smiling a greeting in the direction of the other two ladies.
    Miss Archwick returned to her previous train of thought. “As I was just saying, that last newspaper article about Mast House was utterly ridiculous!”
    “Oh? I must have missed it.”
    “Yes, it was an article in the Daily Courier written by that new woman reporter they just hired. It made us all sound like a bunch of vapid creatures who have no more idea of what we are about than... than... a bricklayer in a hen house!”
    “Really?” Evangeline laughed. “I suppose we all came off as a dithering group of society ladies determined to help the poor by handing out picture postcards of the Louvre.”
    Miss Archwick folded her arms truculently across her chest. “It was something along those lines—entirely revolting! I can’t imagine what it will do to our credibility in this city.”
    “I shouldn’t worry about it too much.” Evangeline’s tone was uncharacteristically conciliatory. “I’m sure anyone remotely acquainted with the settlement knows better, and those are the people who support our efforts through their wealthy connections.”
    “That’s all very well, but what about the people out of town who subscribe to Chicago papers? In the eyes of the wider world, we’ll still appear as foolish do-gooders who are going to waltz off to another more fashionable charity next year. I can’t tell you how that sort of misrepresentation sickens me.”
    “It’s just one article, Ellen.” Evangeline looked across the table and noticed faint smiles on the faces of the two listeners who shared her view that Miss Archwick sometimes defended the public image of Mast House a bit too fiercely.
    “What are you doing here anyway?” Miss Archwick peered at Evangeline over her lenses.
    “Am I not to be allowed the luxury of a harmless social visit before my class starts?” Evangeline countered in mock surprise.
    “Why yes, of course.” Miss Archwick backed away from outright rudeness. “It just seems out of your ordinary routine, that’s all.”
    “Ah, I see. I’m to be held to a standard of consistency. What was it Emerson said about consistency and hobgoblins...?” Evangeline knew the quotation by heart but refrained from being offensive enough to repeat it.
    Miss DeWitt from across the table offered helpfully, “I believe it was ‘A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds’—”
    “Thank you, dear,” Miss Archwick cut in sarcastically. “I can remember my Emerson well enough.”
    “ Ohhh ,” the young lady quavered, belatedly realizing her faux pas.
    Miss Archwick abruptly stood up to go. “I have matters that require my attention, so I’ll leave you ladies to your coffee and quotations.”
    Evangeline laughed. “Another time perhaps, you and I can brandish Thoreau at one another.”
    Miss Archwick finally allowed one corner of her mouth to tilt upward in a half-smile suggesting that, despite her apparent harshness, she actually liked Evangeline. “In that case, I’d better start reviewing the transcendentalist volumes in the library. Good-bye, all.” She nodded to the group and turned to march out of the room.
    Miss DeWitt adopted a confidential tone after she was gone. “I don’t know what it is about