Page 27 of A New World for the Irish Daughter

“I am trying to be respectful, not superstitious,” Charlotte inserted with good-natured asperity as Philip smiled at Maggie.

“Of course, Mother,” he said, dropping his hand from Maggie’s elbow. “We know you don’t believe inghosts.”

The playful yet intelligent conversation continued, much of it flying over Maggie’s head, as Charlotte’s husband, a banker who insisted she call him Henry, came into the room and then they all moved into the dining room for supper.

It quickly became clear to Maggie that the Brown family was both well traveled and educated, with far more progressive ideas than most people she encountered. The conversation over the dinner table was full of humor, as well as robust arguing, with Adelaide and Philip often raising their voices, their elbows propped on the table and their faces flushed, as they leaned across the table to make a point.

And they had so many points to make—the most effective way for workers to unionize for better wages, how to end theeconomic panic that had started last spring, after a run on gold reserves, and many medical issues besides, regarding sanitation, regulations about patent medicines, whether some form of health insurance was a good idea or not, and the nature of institutional care.

When they started talking about women’s suffrage, Maggie’s head began to spin.

She’d been enjoying listening to their spirited debate, both Charlotte and Henry adding their own opinions but also encouraging their children’s. Even Mary, who served them three delicious courses—turtle soup, saddle of mutton, and plum pudding—was asked her opinion regarding patient medicine, and whether she wished to have the ingredients labeled on the bottle.

She gave her employers a startled look, stammered that it didn’t matter to her either way, really, and fled to the kitchen.

“Andthat’sthe problem,” Adelaide exclaimed earnestly as the green baize door swung closed behind the servant. “The very people we are trying to serve don’t have the means to form an opinion.” She turned a sudden, gleaming eye on Maggie, as she was finishing off the last of her pudding. “Maggie, what doyouthink?” she demanded.

“What… what doIthink?” Maggie repeated uncertainly, conscious of everyone’s gaze suddenly swiveling toward her.

“Adelaide, you’re being awful,” Philip scolded his sister as he leaned back in his chair with an indulgent smile. “Comparing ourguestto our servant.”

“I wasn’t—” Adelaide began to protest indignantly.

“That would be a fair comparison to make,” Maggie heard herself say, and everyone at the table fell quite abruptly silent. She surveyed them all, eyeing her speculatively but, she hoped, without judgement, and, perhaps thanks to the wine served generously through all three courses, was emboldenedto continue, “I’m more like Mary than any of you. I worked as a second girl—not even at table—back in New York. And I’ve lived in a tenement where fresh water is a passing fancy, and I sewed piecework for twelve hours a day or more, just to keep a roof over my head. When my mother was ill back in Ireland, we couldn’t evenaffordto call a doctor.” She felt her face flush and wondered if she was terribly reckless for admitting to such things, but Adelaide only looked fascinated, and when she risked a glance at Dr. Brown—Charlotte—she saw, to her gratification, that she was smiling faintly, seeming approving… or at least Maggie hoped. “You shouldn’t have put Mary on the spot like that,” she stated, and now sheknewshe was being reckless. “She’s your servant, as you said, Philip, and she wouldn’t dare offer an opinion in case she was fired.”

“She wouldn’t befired—” Adelaide protested, and Maggie was bold enough to cut her off.

“But she doesn’tknowthat, does she?” she interjected. “Everything turns on the whims of an employer, and as a servant you have no idea—no idea at all—what those are.” She heard the heat behind the words, and she couldn’t be sorry for it. “Back in New York, my employer fired me for giving an opinion when a guest had asked for it. How was I to know it wasn’t really wanted?”

She looked at them, saw them staring back in various states of fascination, bewilderment and bemusement, and found she couldn’t care. “If you’re going to argue about how best to change the world,” she told them fiercely, “you should understand the people who live in it. Not as specimens, or as sorry cases, but aspeople. People just like you.” She broke off, embarrassed as well as emotional, and raised her napkin to her lips to hide how they trembled.

No one said a word for a long, long moment. Maggie kept her napkin to her face, now to hide her scorching flush ofembarrassment. Why on earth had she been so outspoken? Why had she spoken of Mrs. Cater, and Ireland, and being a servant? She was trying to leave that all behind, be someone different and better, and here she’d laid all her sorry experiences at the Browns’ feet.

Then, finally, Charlotte said softly, “Bravo, Maggie, bravo.”

While Maggie turned to give her a startled look, Philip clapped his hands together as he beamed at her. “We should be thoroughly ashamed of ourselves,” he stated. “And so we are.”

Adelaide’s lips twitched. “I shall never ask Mary her opinion again,” she said solemnly, and Charlotte let out a bark of laughter.

“Oh, Adelaide,really,” she exclaimed, and the moment passed, thankfully, because the last thing Maggie wanted was to make even more a spectacle of herself. When Charlotte bid them to retire to the drawing room for tea and coffee, she vowed not to say a single word for the rest of the evening.

“I have taken to heart what you said,” Philip told her in a low voice as they headed into the drawing room. “You speak from experience, whereas we speak only from education.”

“Are they so opposed?” Maggie asked, a little stung by the implication that she was not educated. She may not have gone to medical school or even high school, but she was studying hard now, that was for certain.

“One is surely more valuable than the other,” Philip replied with a smile as he took her arm to lead her into the room. “And it is not education.”

Maggie nodded, somewhat appeased, although she still wished she had not differentiated herself from her hosts quite so drastically. Yet even so, she knew she wasn’t sorry she’d done it. She couldn’t be.

It was past ten o’clock before the evening broke up, and Maggie had to face the long walk back to the nurses’ residence—and another ten-hour day on the wards tomorrow.

“Philip, we cannot let Maggie walk the streets of San Francisco unaccompanied,” Charlotte exclaimed as Maggie began to make her goodbyes. “You must escort her home.”

“Of course,” Philip agreed with smooth alacrity, before Maggie even had time to protest.

“I’m sorry to inconvenience you so,” she said as they started the mile-long walk back to Sacramento Street.

“It is no inconvenience at all,” Philip assured her. “But rather a pleasure and a privilege.”