that even the gallery of the Assembly was an inappropriate place for a lady. Lily was sure her Papa would feel exactly the same about his only daughter sitting with a crowd of suffragists, watching men debate in the House of Assembly.
Yet how could she stay away? The only thing she could think of was to draw Abby Hayward into her confidence, gambling that Abby’s love of secrets and conspiracy would outweigh her disinterest in politics.
It was a winning gamble. “If we’re going to deceive our parents and sneak out at night, I can think of a dozen places more entertaining than the Colonial Building,” Abby sniffed, “but I’ll never be able to drag you anywhere interesting. If I invite you to spend the night here, and then we tell my parents that we’re going to spend the evening at your house before coming back here to sleep, I’m sure neither of them will suspect a thing.”
“Unless our mothers talk to each other.”
“But they won’t. Yours has the vapours again and mine is much too busy. The upstairs rooms are finally getting painted and papered again.” Abby’s house, unlike Lily’s, had been undamaged in the fire but her mother claimed there was “soot everywhere” and had decided to redecorate anyway. “It’s all she can think of. I’m sure I could smuggle myself out to a tavern on Water Street if I cared to. Shall we wear disguises, in case some friend of your father’s recognizes you in the House?”
“Not disguises exactly, but I have a hat with a little veil, and if I keep a fan up in front of my face most of the time, I’m sure no one will recognize me.” Lily’s heart pounded at the thought of thesubterfuge. She wanted so badly to sit with Mrs. Ohman and Mrs. Peters and the other ladies who were getting things done, who were really making a change in society. They had talked at the last WCTU meeting, tallying up the members of the House who would likely vote for them, who was soft on liquor and who was friendly to the women’s cause. “We have a chance,” Mrs. Ohman had declared. “Only a chance, but it’s better than last year. At least my brother has come round.” Her brother, Mr. Murray, had spoken against the bill the last time it had come before the House, and family feeling had not stopped Mrs. Ohman from roundly criticizing him in the pages of the Water Lily . Oh, to be so bold and daring: to be able to chastise even the men in one’s own family!
On Tuesday, the fourth of May, the girls met after dinner at Lily’s house and told Lily’s mother they were going to Abby’s. Instead, they walked to Temperance Hall, where about twenty of the WCTU ladies had gathered, with the intention of processing to the Colonial Building together.
“Lily! How wonderful to see you. And your friend—Miss Hayward, is it? Thank you for coming to add your support to the cause!” Mrs. Ohman looked around the room. “Not as many as I’d hoped. We had over fifty women marching, you know, a few years ago when we brought our first petition. Every time the bill gets brought forward and defeated, more women lose hope. But we must not abandon the ship! Last year we lost by only two votes, and I’m sure we are closer this time.” She sailed off to greet another newcomer, and before long the little knot of women began making its way up Victoria Street towards Military Road and the imposing bulk of the Colonial Building. The government building was, along with the Roman Catholic Basilica, among the few landmarks that had not been touched by the fire.
“A song to raise our spirits!” Mrs. Peters suggested. She had a good, tuneful voice, and struck up a temperance tune that most ofthe women joined in with as their boots tramped the hard-packed dirt of the road. After “Would You Be Free from Your Bourbon and Gin” they began one that Mrs. Ohman had written specially for the Newfoundland cause:
Manhood suffrage for the fool
And clown, and knave and dandy,
But lets us keep our women down
And
Yet how could she stay away? The only thing she could think of was to draw Abby Hayward into her confidence, gambling that Abby’s love of secrets and conspiracy would outweigh her disinterest in politics.
It was a winning gamble. “If we’re going to deceive our parents and sneak out at night, I can think of a dozen places more entertaining than the Colonial Building,” Abby sniffed, “but I’ll never be able to drag you anywhere interesting. If I invite you to spend the night here, and then we tell my parents that we’re going to spend the evening at your house before coming back here to sleep, I’m sure neither of them will suspect a thing.”
“Unless our mothers talk to each other.”
“But they won’t. Yours has the vapours again and mine is much too busy. The upstairs rooms are finally getting painted and papered again.” Abby’s house, unlike Lily’s, had been undamaged in the fire but her mother claimed there was “soot everywhere” and had decided to redecorate anyway. “It’s all she can think of. I’m sure I could smuggle myself out to a tavern on Water Street if I cared to. Shall we wear disguises, in case some friend of your father’s recognizes you in the House?”
“Not disguises exactly, but I have a hat with a little veil, and if I keep a fan up in front of my face most of the time, I’m sure no one will recognize me.” Lily’s heart pounded at the thought of thesubterfuge. She wanted so badly to sit with Mrs. Ohman and Mrs. Peters and the other ladies who were getting things done, who were really making a change in society. They had talked at the last WCTU meeting, tallying up the members of the House who would likely vote for them, who was soft on liquor and who was friendly to the women’s cause. “We have a chance,” Mrs. Ohman had declared. “Only a chance, but it’s better than last year. At least my brother has come round.” Her brother, Mr. Murray, had spoken against the bill the last time it had come before the House, and family feeling had not stopped Mrs. Ohman from roundly criticizing him in the pages of the Water Lily . Oh, to be so bold and daring: to be able to chastise even the men in one’s own family!
On Tuesday, the fourth of May, the girls met after dinner at Lily’s house and told Lily’s mother they were going to Abby’s. Instead, they walked to Temperance Hall, where about twenty of the WCTU ladies had gathered, with the intention of processing to the Colonial Building together.
“Lily! How wonderful to see you. And your friend—Miss Hayward, is it? Thank you for coming to add your support to the cause!” Mrs. Ohman looked around the room. “Not as many as I’d hoped. We had over fifty women marching, you know, a few years ago when we brought our first petition. Every time the bill gets brought forward and defeated, more women lose hope. But we must not abandon the ship! Last year we lost by only two votes, and I’m sure we are closer this time.” She sailed off to greet another newcomer, and before long the little knot of women began making its way up Victoria Street towards Military Road and the imposing bulk of the Colonial Building. The government building was, along with the Roman Catholic Basilica, among the few landmarks that had not been touched by the fire.
“A song to raise our spirits!” Mrs. Peters suggested. She had a good, tuneful voice, and struck up a temperance tune that most ofthe women joined in with as their boots tramped the hard-packed dirt of the road. After “Would You Be Free from Your Bourbon and Gin” they began one that Mrs. Ohman had written specially for the Newfoundland cause:
Manhood suffrage for the fool
And clown, and knave and dandy,
But lets us keep our women down
And
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