Slater looked on as Mrs. van Nostram offered a few words of encouragement to Callie before bustling out of the room. When the doors closed behind her and Callie was left alone with Mrs. Slater, the atmosphere in the room dropped to a chill.
“Very well, you’ll come along with me now to the dormitory upstairs. We’ll get you proper clothing to wear,” she said, eyeing Callie’s dress with interest. “You can’t go about in that.”
“Beggin’ your pardon, Mrs. Slater, but it’s a new dress—”
“Did I give you permission to speak? We don’t like troublemakers here. You will turn in that dress and your other belongings.”
“But it’s new! I’ve had it for less than a day!”
“I can see myself that the garment is hardly used. Elsewise why would I want it? It will be sold to help defray your expenses while you’re here.” This time there was no broaching an argument as Mrs. Slater stepped close, looming over her like a great black crow. “Come with me!”
Callie followed her into the hallway where the woman who had opened the door was on her knees, scrubbing the floor. The woman’s eyes followed Callie, and there was again a glimmer of pity for the young girl.
“Don’t gawk, Ellen, get about your work!” Lifting the hem of her skirt like a grand lady, Mrs. Slater started up the stairs, Callie close at her heels.
“The kitchen is in the basement,” Mrs. Slater stated. “After you’ve changed, you can go down there and see what help is needed. It’s only temporary until we find you employment. The second floor is prohibited to you and the others, except for cleaning. Those are my private quarters and offices. The third and fourth floors are the dormitories where you will spend your time when you are not at work. No one lives here for nothing, you will soon learn. You, like the others, will be trained for employment.”
They had just reached the second floor, and Mrs. Slater pointed to the right. “Down the end of this hallway is our work room. Sewing is brought in from the outside for the women who are unable at this time to go outside for employment.”
Callie could hear the murmur of voices as she followed the wardress down the hall. Mrs. Slater opened the door, and immediately all conversation stopped. Inside no fewer than twenty women, most of them in various stages of pregnancy, stitched away at button holes and collars from a huge stack of men’s shirts. The light was dim; only one flickering lamp illuminated the interior, aside from the feeble daylight coming in through the tall, narrow windows, which were blocked by stacks and boxes of work to be done. The women bent their heads over their work, sewing industriously, nervous fingers working and turning collars, all of them pretending Mrs. Slater was not standing in the doorway; all of them dressed in the same shabby black dresses with dark gray aprons.
“Who dared to light this lamp against my wishes?” Mrs. Slater demanded. “Oil is expensive. Am I to take it that you’re all willing to give over to support your luxury?”
“It’s a gray day outside, Mrs. Slater,” a woman sitting in a far corner spoke up, “and Tillie’s eyes ain’t what they should be.”
“Let her sit near the window,” was Mrs. Slater’s solution.
“Aw, stay where you are, Tillie,” said a woman with frowzy blond hair, awkward in the last stages of pregnancy. “How much more can she take from our wages that she ain’t taken already?”
“Mrs. Slater?” a soft girlish voice called. She was hardly older than Callie herself. “When can I see my baby? Last time I was with him, he had such a bad cold—”
“You’ll see him when you’re able to repay me the cost of the doctor,” came the harsh reply. “Get back to work, all of you, and stop your sniveling. All this talk about babies. If you were all good Christian women, you wouldn’t be having these problems. Open your legs for any man and then cry when you’ve got to pay for your sins.”
The silence in the room was oppressive, and Callie hung her head, unable to meet anyone’s eyes. If this was Christian charity, she wanted no part of it; if this was mercy and goodness, she’d rather be back with Madge and the others.
The dormitories on the third and fourth floors were large and expansive, walls having been removed to create a single area. Beds, low and narrow but clean, were arranged around the perimeters creating a crowded impression. In each end of of the rooms stood a wash stand. It was spare and austere without a trace of anyone’s personal belongings. As she was instructed, Callie removed her new blue dress, and when Mrs. Slater noticed the fresh, clean muslin of her petticoats, she was told to give those over as well. Callie hoped Mrs. Slater wouldn’t notice the new drawers she was wearing.
“Here, put this on, it looks as though it should fit.” A black dress, the same as the others had been wearing, was tossed to her. As she slipped it on, she noticed Mrs. Slater fingering the light-blue wool. “Will I get my dress back?” Callie asked meekly.
“Hrmph! The same as the rest, expecting to be given clean living quarters and a good meal each day for nothing. No, you’ll not be getting your dress back. It will be sold to pay for your first week’s lodgings until you receive your first pay. Then your expenses will automatically be deducted from your salary, which will be sent directly to me.”
Callie looked at Mrs. Slater blankly. Hadn’t she heard her tell Mrs. van Nostram to raise the price for another bed and lodging from the board, whatever that was? Callie’s lips puckered, her chin lifted. Trembling inside, intimidated by this woman who held her future in her hands, Callie faced her bravely. “I’ve always given a good day’s work for a day’s wages. I won’t be needing charity, nor do I need someone to manage my wages for me. I pay my debts, Mrs. Slater, and I’ll be thanking you to leave me my dress. You needn’t bother to sell it. Mrs. van Nostram will get my week’s lodgings from the board.”
“You little snit!” Mrs. Slater’s hand cracked across Callie’s face. “I knew you were trouble the first time I laid eyes on you! Listen to me, girl. You’ll do as I say and live by the rules of this house or you’ll regret it!”
“I don’t want to stay here! I want to go back to Madge’s. I’d rather take my chances with a whore than the likes of you!” The words were out before she could stop them, but instead of Mrs. Slater being properly shocked at being judged beneath a whore, she merely laughed. The sound was a witch’s cackle to Callie.
“Oh, you would, would you? Well, let me tell you a few things, my girl. This is the end of the road for you. You won’t be going anywhere unless it’s to prison!” She was satisfied by the look of horror in Callie’s eyes. “That’s right—to prison!” Her words were sharp and short like gunfire. “We know what to do with girls like you here in America.”
Apparently Mrs. Slater was satisfied by Callie’s astonished silence, for she took the blue dress and petticoats and left the dormitory.
Prison! Callie was just unsophisticated enough to believe Mrs. Slater’s threat. After Tompkinsville and Owen Gallagher anything was possible. Prison! The very thing Peggy had sent her away to avoid now loomed on Callie’s horizon. Callie reluctantly donned the black dress Mrs. Slater had given her, finding it much too big and too long. She hiked up the waistband and secured it by tying the gray apron over it, then looked down to see the uneven hemline and the spots and stains marring its front. She mourned the loss of her blue dress.
Walking softly through the house, Callie found her way to the basement and the kitchens. Here three women, including the
