Innie could understand the cold and hungry parts. Katie had probably spent the missing money on food. “What about the teapot? Why did you take that?”
“I didn’t mean to take it. I thought I was taking only a small box of food. I’d no idea there was a silver teapot wrapped up inside. And then I dropped it and bent the handle. I didn’t want to give it back broken. I have it hidden, back there, in a barrel of mucky clay.” She pointed toward the back of the basement. “Perhaps it can be mended, but I haven’t any money.”
Innie thought about what she’d heard. Katie seemed to be telling the truth. It would be easy enough to find that teapot now that they knew where to look.
“What will you do with me?” Katie stared at each girl in turn, her green eyes filled with worry. “You won’t tell the police, will you? They’ll send me back to Ireland just like that.” She snapped her fingers.
“I … I don’t know,” Innie said. “But …”
“Maybe we can go to the Irish church,” Matela began. “That Father we talk to, he might …”
Innie put her finger to her lips and shook her head. She didn’t want to have to explain all that to Teresa.
“I know what we need to do,” Teresa said. Her voice wasn’t loud, but it sounded quite decided.
Katie studied Teresa’s face. “And what would that be?”
“We’ll tell my sister, Carmela. She’s just turned into a citizen. She’ll know what to do.”
“But, Teresa—” Innie began.
“No, Innie. You’ve been bossing me around my whole life. It’s my turn to decide something. I’m going to get Carmela right now, whether you like it or not.”
Teresa pointed to the old door, which stood slightly ajar. “I’ll walk out that tunnel all by myself if I have to.” She stood, squared her shoulders, and stepped toward the door. But just as she reached it, the door swung open.
Carmela stepped into the room. “It’s all right, little sister. I’m already here.”
CHAPTER 14
A Thursday AFTERNOON GIRL
“Carmela! How did you …” “What, Innie? You think I don’t have a brain? Teresa’s been acting suspicious all day. And tonight, sure, it’s nice outside, but not so nice you’d want the window open. But Teresa, she opened it all the way. I knew she was going to sneak out again, so I pretended to sleep.”
“You followed us.” Teresa’s face colored.
“Yes. I followed you. I guessed you were coming to the settlement house.” She looked at the little group, then back at Teresa. “Could I meet your friends?”
Teresa nodded. “Sure. Carmela, this is Matela Rosen. She’s a Wednesday afternoon girl with us. She’s been helping us look for, well, clues.”
“And this is Katie,” Innie explained. “She’s the one leaving the clues.”
“So I heard.” Carmela nodded. “We’re going upstairs. The ladies will have the surprise of their lives.”
“The ladies? But, Carmela, they’re Yankees,” Innie said. “They’ll tell the police—”
“Innie, wise up. The ladies spend all their time helping girls like us. They’ll know what to do.” She turned. “Katie, don’t worry. This is a settlement house. A place for immigrant girls to be safe and learn about America. You picked a good tunnel.”
There wasn’t much anybody could do but follow Carmela up the stairs. Nobody talked, they just climbed—to the first floor, the second, the third, and finally the fourth. Carmela knocked on the door, hard. “Hello! Miss Brown, Miss Guerrier, it’s me, Carmela Moretti.”
Innie could hear hurrying footsteps and the click of a lock, and then the door flew open.
“Carmela! Whatever is going on?” Miss Guerrier demanded. “How did you get in? What are all these girls doing here? It’s the middle of the night.” She wrapped her dressing gown tighter around herself and smoothed her braid.
Just behind her, Innie could see Miss Brown hurrying toward the doorway. She was also dressed in nightclothes with her hair down.
Carmela took a quick step forward. “Miss Guerrier, Miss Brown, please. I know it’s night and we shouldn’t be here. But my sister and my cousin, they found the person who’s been taking things. She’s just a girl with no place to go. Please, may we come in?”
Miss Brown led Carmela to a sitting room and a comfortable chair. Innie, Teresa, and Matela followed them into the room and crowded together among the fat pillows of a couch.
Miss Guerrier took charge of Katie, settling her in a small chair next to the fireplace. “Begin at the beginning, please,” the lady ordered.
Her face looks hard, Innie thought, like when she accused me. Poor Katie.
“I’m Katie Mulrooney, from Limerick in Ireland, and then from Chelsea.” As she told her story, the ladies’ faces softened. They began to look sorry for Katie.
When Katie finished, Miss Brown stood up. “I, for one, could use a bite to eat. Rest yourself for a moment, Katie. Innie, come help.”
Innie scrambled to the kitchen and set mugs on a tray. Miss Brown filled them with milk and set out a plate of oatmeal cookies.
Once everyone had been served, Innie settled back on the couch, and Miss Brown turned to Katie. “Now, Miss Mulrooney, perhaps you’ll tell us why didn’t you stay at one of the churches or schools that’s helping people whose homes burned. Why did you hide in the tunnel?”
“I couldn’t go to the shelters, Miss. They write down your name and age in those places.”
“And why can’t you give your name and age?” asked Miss Guerrier.
“I’m young, Miss. Not yet fourteen. Too young to hold a real job. And without one, why the police or the immigration service, they might send me back. And I can’t go back. I just can’t.” Katie hid her face.
“I’m not sure I understand. Did you arrive illegally?” Miss Brown’s voice was soft.
Katie sighed. “I’m not sure. We paid a man to help me come here, a Mr. Thomas McKean. He found me work as well but warned me not to say how old I am. I paid a dollar each week to him for the job, but even he’s gone now.”
Good riddance to him, Innie thought. A dollar a week! That was a day’s wages for Carmela.
“You were working as a domestic, I assume?” asked Miss Guerrier.
“Aye. Lots of Irish girls come here to work in fine houses. We save up our wages, you see, to bring over the rest of the family. I’d saved a bit of money, but it all burned in the fire.”
Miss Brown nodded her head. “The rest of your family is still in Ireland, then?”
“Aye. Me mum’s a widow, Miss, and I’ve three younger sisters. They’re needing the money I was to be making in America. I must have another job, you see, but how can I now, looking like this?” She held up her stained skirt, then let it drop.
Innie looked at Teresa, then at Matela. In Italian families, the men came over first, like Nonna’s bordanti. Matela’s father had also come ahead to earn money for the family’s tickets. It was impossible for Innie to imagine a girl coming to America all alone.
“When will you be fourteen?” Miss Guerrier asked.
“In July. But I can’t wait that long to get work. Me family’s counting on me. And I … I must repay you for what I’ve taken.”
A slight frown creased Miss Guerrier’s forehead. “Three months. That’s not so long. Do you read well, Katie?”
“Aye. I’ve got schooling.”
That’s an odd question, Innie thought. What did reading have to do with being fourteen or working as a maid?
Miss Guerrier continued. “Miss Brown, don’t we need another reader in the pottery? Couldn’t we use a second voice when we begin reading Shakespeare’s plays aloud? We couldn’t pay much, but until you’re fourteen it would be something …”
“You mean you’d hire me to read? And after me taking things from your house and all? I’m sorry for that, I am. I’ll return your teapot right away. It’s hidden in the basement.”
“We understand,” Miss Brown said gently. “We have
a small empty room on the third floor where you could stay. And if you wish to return to domestic work once you’re old enough, we will help you find a proper situation.” Miss Brown looked at Miss Guerrier, then went on. “That Thomas McKean, he’s been taking advantage of you. These things go on, and it is up to us to stop it. We shall inform the authorities about Mr. McKean.”
“What a night this has been,” Miss Guerrier said. “But I’ll be glad to see my teapot again, Katie. Even gladder to see you safe and warm instead of huddling down in that basement.”
“If you think the basement’s bad, you should see the tunnel,” Teresa said. “It smells terrible in there.”
“It goes under the burying ground,” Innie added. “And there’s a sword.”
Miss Guerrier sat up straight. “A sword? You found a tunnel, an intruder, and a sword? You’ve been rather busy, Innie.”
“Matela found the sword. It’s big, and it looks really old. We can get it for you, Miss Guerrier, but we’ll need more candles.”
“Well, well,” Miss Brown said. “This could be quite a discovery. For years, I’ve heard rumors of tunnels under the North End. Smugglers’ tunnels from before the Revolution. Colonists didn’t like paying the taxes on foreign goods, you see, so they smuggled items off the ships to bypass the customs house …”
“Smugglers’ tunnels? From the old days?” Innie was so excited she could barely get the words out.
Miss Guerrier nodded. “Mrs. Storrow, the lady who owns this house and supports the library clubs, has friends at the museum. I’m sure they’ll be fascinated by the secret tunnel and the sword. If the weapon is from colonial days, they might even purchase it for their collection.”
Miss Brown smiled. “Indeed. Such a purchase might go a long way toward replacing the money Katie lost in the fire and buying her a new set of clothes. I think that’s quite a night’s work, myself.”
She stood, and everybody else did the same. “Now, Carmela, you’ll escort our three Wednesday afternoon girls home safely, I presume.”
She turned to Katie. “And you will stay here with us. Beginning Monday, you’ll start your reading, and you’ll be able to join our library club as well—you’ll be a Thursday afternoon girl. Good night, all of you.” Miss Brown led Katie toward the kitchen, and Miss Guerrier escorted the others out.
Innie practically ran down all three flights of stairs. She would have slid the whole way on the banister if Miss Guerrier hadn’t come along to unlock the door.
Miss Guerrier smiled as she opened the door for them. “My apologies, Innie. Miss Brown and I suspected you, and you were innocent of wrongdoing. We are both truly, truly sorry. Sleep well, and we’ll see you on Wednesday afternoon.”
The girls stepped out into the warm night, and Innie darted across the street, unable to simply walk.
Carmela and the others followed right on her heels. “There’s one thing I still don’t understand,” Carmela said, taking hold of Innie’s arm. “And we’re not going home until you explain. Matela, you’re Jewish, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Why did you go to see an Irish priest, then? I heard you say that when I was hiding behind the old door.”
Matela looked at Innie.
“It’s a long story,” Innie began.
“We have all night,” Carmela answered.
Innie shook her head. In a family like hers, keeping a secret was harder than finding a room to be quiet in. Maybe that was the price a person paid for belonging to a family. Once again, she explained about the visit to Charlestown.
As she spoke, she noticed Teresa’s eyes on her, barely blinking. “Innie, did you really think they’d make you into a Sister, whether you wanted it or not? That would be scary.”
“I didn’t know any better.”
“So that’s why you’ve been such a troublemaker?” Carmela asked. “To stay out of the convent?”
Innie nodded. She didn’t trust herself to speak.
“You’ll be good now?” Carmela wasn’t going to let up, not even a speck.
“A little bit good,” Innie said, shrugging as if it didn’t really matter. “Nonna would get too suspicious if I was perfect.”
“Don’t worry, Innie.” Carmela laughed and threw an arm around her shoulder. “Nobody expects perfect. Besides, the house would get boring without your mischief.”
“But, Carmela,” Innie said, “don’t I make you mad?”
“Sure, sometimes. But you stand up to that big-mouth Antonio. Mostly you make me smile,” Carmela said. “Everybody needs to smile.”
With a running start, Innie jumped onto the stone wall that ran along the sidewalk between the burying ground and the church. Flinging her arms out for balance, she danced along the wall. Behind her, she could hear Matela and Teresa climb onto the wall, giggling. They began stepping along in time.
Carmela shook her head and laughed so loud it filled the night. And then, unbelievably, she too climbed the wall and danced along the smooth stones. “A girl like you, Innocenza Maria Moretti, you even cheer up the graveyard. First you turn me into an American partner. Now you get me out at midnight without any brothers to watch over me. Grazie, Innie. Grazie.”
1908
GOING BACK IN TIME
LOOKING BACK:1908
The Chelsea fire really happened. It began just north of Boston, Massachusetts, on the morning of Sunday, April 12, 1908. Smoke filled the skies all the way to New Hampshire, and tongues of flame could be seen from hilltops and roofs all over Boston. The fire raged into the night, destroying more than 2,800 buildings.
Miss Guerrier, Miss Brown, and the library clubs at 18 Hull Street really existed, too. A Boston woman, Mrs. Helen Storrow, bought the building to create a settlement house for girls from the North End. Most girls—like the fictional Innie, Teresa, and Matela—were daughters of Italian and Jewish immigrants.
Settlement houses were a new idea in the early 1900s. Immigrants were flooding into the United States, settling in poor, crowded city neighborhoods. Settlement houses helped thousands adjust to life in America. Most famous was Chicago’s Hull House, started by Jane Addams, but pioneering women in many cities opened settlement houses. They offered English classes for adults, courses for boys in trades like woodworking and printing, and instruction for girls in cooking and sewing.
Mrs. Storrow’s settlement house in Boston was unique, however—it was just for girls! Most settlement houses provided more services for boys, but Mrs. Storrow believed girls were important. And she wanted to teach them more than the skills needed to be housewives or servants. She believed that rigorous learning would give them the best chance to improve their lives.
Mrs. Storrow hired two remarkable women to turn her vision into reality—Edith Guerrier and Edith Brown. Both were educated but of very modest means, so they had great sympathy for girls from poor families.
Miss Guerrier’s library clubs succeeded immediately. Girls discussed books and politics, participated in choral singing, learned folk dancing, and practiced needlework. The clubs were named for their meeting times—for example, 12-year-olds met on Wednesdays, so they were known as “Wednesday Afternoon Girls.”
The library clubs were not always popular with parents, however. Many parents thought children should spend their time working, not reading. Some girls, like Innie, really did have to hide their books from strict families.
In 1908, Boston children were required to attend school through age 14. Many immigrant children took full-time jobs as soon as they turned 15, because their families were desperately poor and needed the children’s wages to survive. So for older girls, Miss Guerrier and Miss Brown held library clubs in the evenings.
These girls usually worked in crowded sweatshops sewing clothing or in filthy, dangerous factories. To create better jobs for them, Miss Guerrier and Miss Brown established the Paul Revere Pottery. Miss Brown trained young women like Carmela to make and decorate pottery. The girls—known as Saturday Evening Girls—ear
ned up to $10 a week, as much as they could have made in the factories. They enjoyed a clean, well-lit workplace, were served a hot lunch, and listened to classical music, poetry, or Shakespeare while they hand-painted bowls, plates, and vases. Each girl signed her work on the bottom with her name and “SEG,” for “Saturday Evening Girl.” The pieces were sold in a shop at the settlement house and fetched excellent prices.
Outside the settlement house, immigrant life could be harsh. Immigrants often lived in tenements—old, run-down three-story or four-story apartment buildings packed tightly along narrow streets. A family of ten might share three rooms. To help pay the rent, many families took in lodgers, usually men anxious to save their wages and bring their families to America. Beds filled every tenement room, even the kitchen. Plumbing was scarce—all the families in a building shared a single sink in the front hall and one privy in the basement or under the sidewalk. Under these conditions, bugs and rodents thrived.
In Boston, many immigrants settled in the North End, where Innie’s story takes place. In 1908, two-thirds of the North End’s 30,000 residents were Italian Catholics like the Morettis who had left Italy because of political and economic troubles. The other third were Jews like Matela’s family, who had left Russia to escape religious persecution. In Russia, Jews were kept away from cities by law, so many Jewish families lived in shtetls. These rural villages were frequently terrorized or even burned to the ground by government soldiers who rode in on horseback wielding swords and flaming torches. A family like Matela’s had good reason to be cautious around people of different backgrounds.
Most immigrants settled in neighborhoods where people from their own country lived. They rarely socialized outside their own ethnic and religious groups. But at the library clubs and the pottery, girls from different backgrounds mingled. As they sang, read, and worked together—Italians and Russians, Catholics and Jews—they forged lifelong friendships. Their children became friends, and today, granddaughters and great-granddaughters still speak with pride about the Saturday Evening Girls.
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