Into the hall and down the aisle strode a group of six Cornell men. Each had a colorful lady’s skirt tied around his waist, and each had his face powdered and lips rouged. To make matters worse, each carried a broom. Matilda, seemingly unfazed, paused, and then continued. But her mother’s words were soon drowned out by the loud chanting of the men, who now held their brooms aloft and began to chant in unison, “In hoc signo vinces”—in this sign, we conquer. The group made the circuit of the room, down the left aisle, across in front of the rostrum, and back up the right aisle. Maud, her face flaming, turned to watch, and as she spun in her seat, she turned far enough around to catch sight of the figure who had come in late. Now that he had unwrapped his muffler and removed his cap, she could see his gray eyes clearly. She was staring directly into the face of Mr. Frank Baum, who seemed to have found the embarrassing spectacle most amusing, as there was a giant grin on his face.
Matilda, without missing a beat, looked up at the departing rioters and said, “I suppose you all believe that all witches are wicked, and that they are long since dead, but that is simply not true. Wise women have long been accused of witchcraft! To be called a witch is a high form of compliment.” And then she continued with the speech, as if the intruders were nothing but recalcitrant children who had failed to provoke their mother.
Maud sat frozen, her jaw locked. How could it be that the men had imitated her own speech and actions with the broom so precisely? Could it be that one of her own dear friends had been gossiping about her behind her back? As an insult to her mother, this was bad enough, but that it should seem to point so directly to Maud’s own private mischief was troubling in the extreme. And of all the disarray that now entered Maud’s mind, the worst of it was the appearance of Mr. Frank Baum in the middle of this. Maud, so startled to see him under such appalling circumstances, had whirled around to face forward without so much as acknowledging him, though she knew that he still sat almost directly behind her.
Now, overcome with emotion, Maud did the one thing that was most likely to call attention to herself: she jumped up and ran up the aisle to the back doors, from which the broom-wielding boys had so recently exited.
She swung one open and slipped into the blasting cold of the anteroom, taking care not to slam the door behind her, then looked around nervously. The costumed pranksters had already made their exit; one of the outer doors stood open, as if left ajar in haste. Maud pulled it closed and tried to compose herself. Through the hall’s inner doors, she could still hear her mother’s voice, now muffled.
Maud smoothed her skirts, patted her hair. But her mind’s eye was still spinning in a crazy circle, one minute seeing the dressed-up boys holding the brooms, the next minute imagining the gray eyes of Frank Baum and the giant grin of mockery upon his face. Why on earth was he here in Ithaca and not on the road with his theater company in Pennsylvania? Maud could simply not think of what to do next. If she reentered the hall, she’d have to pass him; if she did not reenter, she’d have to tell her mother that she’d been overtaken by nerves and had to leave, not a story for which her mother would show much sympathy.
But before Maud had even managed to stop her mind from spinning, her speculation was cut off by the emergence of Mr. Frank Baum himself through the doorway. She found herself face-to-face with the man who had preoccupied her thoughts for so many weeks. Now in the flesh, he was so much more vividly real than the way she had imagined, that it was all she could do not to reach out and touch his cheek.
“Come with me,” he whispered, nodding toward the cloakroom door.
Maud knew that the correct response to this suggestion was to refuse, but instead she allowed him to take her arm and usher her into the confined space of the cloakroom. Inside, in the semidarkness, the scent of damp wool filled her nostrils.
“What are you doing here?” she whispered.
“I came to hear Mrs. Gage’s speech,” he answered. His manner was easy and friendly, as if they weren’t standing close to each other in a cloakroom—as if they weren’t near strangers. “I’m most interested in the topic of women’s suffrage.”
Maud, rarely at a loss for words, felt as if her tongue were stuck to the roof of her mouth, and her heart was pounding so furiously that she was sure he must be able to hear it.
“If you are so interested in women’s suffrage, perhaps you should still be inside, listening to my mother, rather than here in the cloakroom with me!” Maud burst out, in spite of herself.
But Frank only smiled, and Maud’s breathing slowed. There was something about this man’s presence that she found calming, even in the current unnerving circumstances.
“Miss Gage, why didn’t you ask me to call? I waited and waited. Even cousin Josie couldn’t get a word out of you. If you truly detest me, just say so, and I promise I’ll molest you no further.”
“Tell me why you are here!”
Frank looked around the cloakroom as if seeing it for the first time. “I could have stormed the podium and demanded that you listen to me, but I was afraid that would not make a favorable first impression on your mother.” He said this so intently that Maud couldn’t tell if he was serious or joking, and she had to cover her mouth with her hand to repress a smile.
“No, I mean, why are you in Ithaca? I thought you were touring with your play in the oil country. I was so startled when I saw you, I couldn’t think straight. You gave me such a fright, I thought I would faint—except I’m not the fainting sort. I’m blessed—or cursed—with a strong constitution. Mother would say it’s a blessing, but sometimes I feel as if it’s a curse, because it’s quite difficult to get out of things when you are never ever ill…” Maud clapped her hand over her mouth again. “I’m babbling, aren’t I? See how flustered you’ve made me?”
Frank smiled even more broadly. “I should think that you would be more flustered by the spectacle of all the powdered and bewigged men brandishing broomsticks. Now, that was a sight to behold! Is that what Cornell gentlemen learn at college? If so, I feel quite relieved that I’ve not undertaken any further study.” Frank’s tone was light, but Maud’s eyebrows pinched together. Was he mocking her? Had Josie confided the story of their Society of the Broom? Did he know that their protest had surely been directed squarely toward Maud herself?
She tried to wrench her mind back into the present moment. From where they stood she could no longer hear her mother speaking, and she was unsure how much longer her speech would continue; and when the speech ended and the crowd was released, a horde of coat-seeking people would storm in upon them and find her alone with a gentleman.
“You must stop talking in circles and tell me why you have come,” Maud said, aware that her tone sounded severe.
“Miss Gage,” he said, leaning in close to her and speaking in an urgent whisper, “I could not stay away. I’ve thought of nothing but you since our meeting at Christmas. I waited in vain for a message before I had to depart to rejoin my troupe. Josie said you mention me not at all. But I most desperately wanted to see you. When she wrote to me that your mother was going to speak tonight, I hazarded a guess that you might attend, and I hoped I might catch a glimpse of you, but I dare not approach you until your mother has given me permission to call.”
“Mother said no!” Maud whispered, blurting out the truth. “She said it was because your profession was unstable, but I know the truth—she wants nothing to distract me from my pursuit of a diploma.”
“A diploma,” Frank repeated, as if bewildered. “But what need have you of a diploma—isn’t it possible to learn in any setting, and does the possession of a testimonial bearing a signature and seal make a man (or a woman, I should say) any better equipped with common sense?”
“I would say no, but that is immaterial,” Maud said. “I can’t disappoint Mother—she has sacrificed much for me to be here.”
Frank leaned even closer to her and again spoke in an urgent whisper: “But does it delight your heart?”
Maud looked straight into his gray eyes, bright even in the dim light. Did this man, almost a stranger, truly concern himself with her heart’s delight?
“What delights my heart is of little consequence,” Maud said. “I must return to the hall before the crowd lets out. I don’t want Mother to know I went missing. Nor do I wish that our presence here be discovered. It would be disastrous for my reputation, as I’m sure you can well imagine.”
“Can you leave me with no hope?” Frank asked. He was standing so close to her that she could catch his scent, a mix of wet wool, and clean soap, and something underneath that made her feel as if she were floating several inches above the ground. “Do you not wish to see me? Just say the word, and I’ll go away as quickly as I came.”
Maud took a deep breath, trying to memorize his scent. She gazed up into his eyes. “I do wish to see you,” she said. “I do, most emphatically, I do. I will try to convince Mother.”
His eyes danced. “Tell her that her daughter has got me bewitched.”
Maud’s mouth flew open. Her cheeks flamed. “How dare you!” For a half second she was angry, but then she laughed.
He placed his hand on her forearm. “Seriously, do you think there is a chance to persuade her?”
“I’ll try. But I can’t promise anything….I must go immediately.”