Free Together Apart by Dianne Gray Page B

Dru asked.
    Eliza joined us then. "Only if you finally agree to accept a wage for all the work you do around here."
    "I should be the one paying you. Being here has spared me from a summer cinched into my corset unable to breathe properly. And I've learned so many things I otherwise wouldn't have learned."
    It was true, Dru was a tireless worker, pitching in wherever there was a need, be it helping with the laundry or changing a toddler's nappy while a young mother was occupied with a nursing infant. She was especially gracious when serving tea, though her true gift was in her storytelling. She was so good the children often shrieked when she told scary parts. As for the corset, when Dru had learned that Eliza didn't wear one, thought them harmful to a woman's health, Dru had stopped wearing hers, too. I'd never worn a corset myself. Being poor had its advantages.
    "Will you at least accept a token wage?" Eliza asked.
    Dru smiled. "The least amount that will qualify me as a working girl. Could you see your way clear to a penny a day?"
    "A penny it is then."
    "And might I invite Clarice, Mother's hired girl? Though I've tried to befriend her, she is very shy and will only give me a nod. Perhaps meeting with the other working girls will bring her out."
    "By all means, invite Clarice and all the girls who work for your mother's friends," Eliza said.
    Needless to say, Dru's penny wage always found its way into the freewill donation tin.
    Dru held herself back during the first meetings. She sat quietly and listened as the girls told amusing stories about mistakes in etiquette they'd made or charming things the children in their charge had said. It was only when the girls had become better acquainted that their conversations began to circle around the conditions under which some were made to work. Cass, who was seventeen and from a farm to the north of town, worked for a mistress so particular that if a garment or table linen was not ironed to perfection, the mistress would grab it away, crumple it, then require Cass to press the piece again. Mary, who was eighteen, was unhappy that she wasn't allowed to entertain her fiancé, not even on her employer's front porch in broad daylight. Sadie, who was sixteen and the youngest save for me, had the worst of it. She was made to sleep in the same bed with a four-year-old boy who wet the sheets, and then she was assigned the blame for not waking the boy every hour throughout the night. All the girls had unpleasant stories to share—Inga and Carol, Imogene and Gertrude. All the girls save for Clarice, who accompanied Dru to the resting room each Wednesday evening. She smiled politely but spoke only with a nod.
    I said little myself, having no unpleasant stories to share. I did listen, did sympathize, but more often than not my thoughts fell on Isaac locked away behind the print shop door.
    Eliza made herself scarce during the Working Girls Social Club meetings. She spent the time in the print shop with Isaac, writing articles for the next edition of the gazette or, alongside Isaac, working the press. I knew this was a sacrifice on her part, knew she'd have loved nothing more than to join in the girl talk.
    We'd been meeting for about a month when, during a lull in the conversation, Dru finally spoke up. "What we need is a purpose."
    "What sort of purpose?" Inga asked.
    "Oh, I don't know, something to throw ourselves into, keep our minds off our troubles."
    "And what troubles might you have?" Carol chimed in.
    "Oh, I didn't mean to imply—"
    I jumped in before Dru could finish. "Dru's right. We should always make time for those who need to talk, but that shouldn't be our only reason for getting together. You all have talents—perhaps we should think of ways to put them to good use."
    "A pageant," Dru said. "We should have ourselves an end-of-the-summer pageant, right here in the resting room—invite the families you work for, your families at home. It'll be grand."
    Several