I nodded approval. “I wish I’d been to Vassar so that I could join you.”
“We’d love you to join us, Molly,” Sid said. “But we felt that you would not be strong enough to walk the length of Fifth Avenue so soon after your sickness.”
“I’ve a good Irish peasant constitution,” I said, “and I was used to walking miles a day at home. I’m sure I’d be able to do it.”
“Then I say the more the merrier.” Sid raised her glass to me. “Nobody need know that you are not a Vassar girl. As it happens we haven’t had the response we hoped for and will be low on numbers, so you’d truly be helping the cause.”
“In that case I gladly accept. I suggested to Daniel that we take part in the parade and he was most scathing about it. He said it was only for the newly rich to show off.”
“That is, of course, true,” Sid agreed.
“Some of the Four Hundred also participate every year,” Gus said. “I have relatives who always take part.”
“Gus has relatives in every city, I swear,” Sid commented, looking fondly at Gus.
“Will we be expected to dress up and wear fancy hats?” I said, beginning to have doubts as I realized that Vassar girls tended to be wealthy. “Because you’ve seen the extent of my wardrobe.”
“Absolutely not. Your business costume will be ideal. We aim to look like responsible members of the community, not pampered darlings full of frippery. And they’ll give us a sash to wear and a banner to carry, stating our purpose. So wear comfortable shoes. It’s a long march.”
“It’s not that long,” Gus interjected. “Only ten blocks. And I’m sure there will be a carriage available should one of the young ladies need to ride.”
“I’ll not need to ride and I’ll come prepared,” I said. “In fact I’m willing to do my share to help the cause. It is ridiculous that a businesswoman like myself should not have a say in the government.”
“Well said, Molly. I can see you’ll be a regular firebrand.”
“Let us just hope that Sunday is fine and dry,” Gus said. “It would be too bad if it rained as it did today.”
“Will it be called off if it rains?” I asked.
“It’s never been called off, has it, Gus?” Sid asked.
“Not that I can remember,” Gus agreed. “The smart set don’t care, of course. They simply raise the hood of their carriages and proceed from church as usual. But there would be a dearth of spectators if it rained like today.”
“So most people ride in carriages, not walk?”
“Almost everyone does. We are walking so that we stand out and exhibit our solidarity with the masses,” Sid said. “The parade starts at ten o’clock, so we’ll leave here in time to muster at nine forty-five.”
“Muster? You make it sound like a war.” I laughed.
“It is,” Sid said soberly. “An out-and-out war that must be won, Molly. We have lived as poor, dependent creatures for too long, at the mercy of our lords and masters. Now it is time we took control of our own destiny.”
Inspired and inflamed, warmed by red wine and rhetoric, I went back to my own house.
Three
Fortunately, Sunday dawned bright and clear. A cold wind was blowing, sending cotton-wool clouds racing across the sky, but there was no hint of rain as we left Patchin Place and caught the trolley to Forty-seventh Street, then walked to Fifth Avenue, where the parade would begin. A crowd had already formed along both sides of the avenue, starting at St. Nicholas Church, and some rather elegant carriages were lined up, in the starting gate, so to speak. Even a rapid glance showed some startling Easter bonnets that were not bonnets at all but hats adorned with every kind of fruit, flower, feather, and even bird known to creation.
In contrast, the Vassar girls were easy to pick out, standing together around the corner on Forty-seventh, and dressed so simply that I looked right at home in my business suit. To my amazement, Sid and Gus were dressed in uncharacteristic fashion, like prim and sober young women in two-piece costumes not dissimilar to my own. Sid’s was dove-gray; Gus’s, dark-green pinwale. They were warmly welcomed by the Vassar contingent. I was introduced and received one or two inquisitive stares as well as some friendly smiles. Someone handed me a sash to wear over one shoulder: “VWVW. Votes for Women.” The banner proclaimed, more fully, “Vassar graduates demand their rights. Votes for women now.” Other banners read, “We can do anything a man can, except vote. Half the population has no voice. Women, demand to be heard! Take your rightful place in society.”
I felt rather pleased and excited as I took the pole of the banner I was to carry with one of the Vassar girls. The young woman who was holding the other pole smiled at me. “Hello,” she said. “I don’t believe we’ve met before. I’m Emily Boswell. What year were you?”