The Rebellion of Miss Lucy Ann Lobdell by William Klaber

think it was strange to feel so drawn to her. After all, I was living as a man. Life was presenting itself to me as it presented itself to a man, so it was natural for me to find Lydia beautiful and enchanting. The better I played my role, the more beautiful she would be.
     
    * * *
    The rainstorm had broken the heat, and the following night Cornell Hall was bearable. After the lecture, I walked to the Wayne to dine with Burton, who was to follow. I was almost to the hotel when up ahead I saw David Horton and two friends. They didn’t see me. They might have already been drinking, because they were pushing at each other and laughing loudly. I moved to the shadows and watched as they bellowed and hooted their way down the street.
    When I got to the hotel, I took a seat at Burton’s table and watched as men who had been at the meeting entered and sat at the remaining tables. A few minutes later, Burton came into the room with the evening’s speaker, Mr. William Casey. With them was Mr. Francis Penniman of the Democrat . Mr. Penniman looked every bit the newspaper man, as he stopped and shook hands with several men seated nearby. His spectacles were framed by unruly eyebrows and his wool vest displayed a gold watch chain, all of this befitting a man of his age, which I thought to be a little north of sixty. Our out-of-town guest, Mr. Casey, was younger, with more hair on his head and more flesh about the face. He had lectured that evening on “The Danger to Our South,” a lesson that continued over a plate of beef and cabbage.
    “You have to understand what’s at stake,” he said, chewing loudly. “Depending on how thin you slice the bread, there could be four to eight new states down there. And they’d all come in slave, with just as many senators as New York or Pennsylvania.”
    “Could that really happen?” asked Penniman.
    “My dear friend,” said Casey, “as we speak, there’s an expedition in New Orleans ready to sail for Nicaragua. To capture it and make it a state. Yes, it has rich soil. Minerals too. But there are ways to get at them without granting voting privileges in our sacred halls. Presidentes come at a rather reasonable price.”
    “But, sir,” I said, a little surprised. “Did you not say this evening that our southern neighbors should be free from interference?”
    Casey glared at me and pointed his fork. “Interference is what’s being planned in New Orleans. But in the world of nations, there’s a rightful place for the strong. We see it in nature as it is handed down from heaven.”
    I nodded as though all had been made clear. Burton winked.
    Mr. Casey finished his dinner and ordered two pieces of pie. Once these were dealt with, he retired upstairs. Fewer people were in the room now, and it was easier to talk in a normal voice. Mr. Penniman turned to me. “I’m happy to finally meet you, Mr. Lobdell. Burton speaks well of you.”
    I glanced at Burton, but he gave a blank look as though to disavow anything to come.
    “I wonder,” Mr. Penniman continued, “if you might be interested in a position at the Democrat this autumn? I was impressed by your conduct tonight.”
    “But I hardly said a thing,” I protested.
    “Ah, but you listened! You found the weak point in our guest’s fortress, and you did not press the attack when there was nothing to be gained. These are qualities not lost on an editor.”
    The offer was most certainly Burton’s doing. Even so, I felt as though Mr. Penniman had pinned his gold watch to my chest, and I had a brief vision of myself at the head of Cornell Hall. I tried to hide these inflated feelings, saying that I knew nothing about newspapers. Penniman would have none of it.
    “Everyone learns on the job,” he said. “You can do it, or you can’t.”
    “But I have the music school.”
    He shrugged. “We can work around that.”
    Once again, I was swept away. Mr. Francis Penniman, owner and editor of the Honesdale Democrat , thought me worth my