I SAID two days later, twitching nervously, delaying my departure from school for a few moments, “won’t you come with me this afternoon?”Florence glanced up from correcting ledgers, her black curly hair falling out of its pins, her dress sleeves pushed up around her elbows, her hands chalk and ink stained from a strenuous day of teaching, to study me curiously.“Clarissa, I’ve told you I won’t go to hear those suffragettes belabor their lack of freedom as they sit in their expensive parlors, drinking tea, with servants waiting on them.” She eyed me severely, over her horn-rimmed glasses, daring me to contradict her.“It’s a good cause, Flo,” I argued.“So is correcting these ledgers so I can walk home in the daylight,” she countered with a hint of a smile.I nodded, feeling somewhat dejected, yet mainly nervous. I had no idea what my reception would be at today’s meeting. “Well, in that case, good luck with the ledgers and I’ll give you a full report tomorrow.”Florence nodded absently, already absorbed in her work.I gathered my purse, gloves and shawl.
