The Daring Ladies of Lowell(96)

She stopped, suddenly daunted. A woman sat at the desk, a pair of spectacles halfway down her narrow nose, reading silently from a tall stack of manuscripts. Alice recognized her immediately—it was Harriet Farley, the stern-mouthed, revered editor of the magazine. She herself had worked the looms when she was younger. She was one of them. Amazing, something that could only happen, as Ralph Waldo Emerson had said once, in the proud culture of the Lowell mill girls. Only recently they had all burst with pride upon hearing that. Now it felt hollow.

“You have a story for me?” Miss Farley said, looking at her over her spectacles.

“Not one made up,” Alice said, stepping forward and handing her the pages in her hand.

“Then what is it? Oh, never mind, I’ll find out for myself.” Miss Farley glanced at the title and raised an eyebrow. “‘Decorum for Daring Ladies’?” she said.

“That was what Lovey wanted. That’s the title I want.”

Miss Farley began scanning the document, then turned the page, reading to the end. She cast Alice a sharp glance, went back to the beginning, and began to read aloud.