A Desire to Hide Part Three

Chapter two…

Mary was sewing on a new dress while Ann read to her from a book of popular poetry. It was a pleasant method for both of the girls to spend their afternoons now that the weather had grown too hot to go out walking. The summer’s heat made neither girl eager to put on street clothes and go anywhere. They both looked up when the maid knocked on the door, and then looked at each other, both willing the other one to get up and answer it. Mary finally got up and got it, she generally lost such contests.

“A letter for your brother, Miss,” said the maid, holding it out.

“If it’s a circular, throw it away,” said Ann, from where she was still sitting, the book of poetry still in her lap.

“It’s no circular, Miss,” said the maid, she was almost smirking as she handed the letter to Mary. Mary closed the door and turned to her sister.

“A perfumed envelope, written in a lady’s hand,” she said, holding it out at arm’s length as she might a dead rat. Ann dropped the poetry book to the floor in her rush to see the letter that Mary was holding.

“I was not aware that Peter had any lady friends,” said Ann.

“Perhaps we should wait until he arrives home to ask him, rather than speculating,” said Mary, carefully putting the letter down on the table. “It is not fair to him that we should make such assumptions.”

“It should be a very enjoyable interview,” said Ann, eagerly.

“Will you continue with the poem you were reading when we were interrupted? I was enjoying it,” said Mary.

“Oh, how can you think of poetry? There is no chance that I could concentrate on reading now,” declared Ann. Mary let out a sigh, put down her sewing once again, and picked up the book of poetry from the floor. Finding the place that Ann had left off reading, she finished the poem herself, savoring every word.

Peter was barely through the door before Ann was sweeping up the letter from the table and running to meet him with it. He looked, uncomprehending for a moment, and then took the letter and opened it. Ann was greatly disappointed when he folded it up and placed it back in the envelop once he was finished reading it. She had hoped to catch a glimpse of it.

“A lady friend?” she asked frankly, once she discovered that there was no other manner in which she would be able to get her information.

“Oh,” said Peter, taking off his hat, “nothing like that. It is a favor I am doing for my boss.”

“Nothing improper I hope,” said Ann. She sounded as if she should like nothing more.

“It likely is,” said Peter, missing the connotation and thinking of his role in the matter. He had some serious doubts that he was doing the right thing by agreeing to represent Charles. Than he realized what she had meant and blushed slightly, but he did not feel like explaining anymore, so he let the matter rest. If she wanted to think that Charles was having a clandestine affair with Peter as intermediary, than so be it. Charles had a poor enough reputation that it was not likely to suffer greatly from such a hint in any case.

The boarding house operated like many city establishments and they had dinner in the evening instead of at noon. It was the one meal that all of the boarders were present, some of them leaving for work earlier than breakfast was served. It caused much comment Peter jammed his hat on his head after dinner and announced he was going out for a short time. It was hardly like Peter to go out in the evening. Mary and Ann did not ask where he was going, but they did look at one another significantly. Even when the twins asked him to take them to parties he generally said that he was too tired after working all day and they were forced to go alone. Now however he stepped out with a brisk step, eager to be done with this whole unsavory business.

If Peter had needed any more reason to be dissatisfied with Charles’s comment about Ms. Seay not being part of his set, it was how close her home was to the rooms that Peter rented. It was an easy walk that brought him to her front door. That she lived in a house, indeed, suggested that her family was in more comfortable circumstances than his own. Taking a deep breath, and bracing himself for an unpleasant interview, he climbed the front steps and knocked. It only took a moment for a middle aged woman to answer the door. Peter quickly doffed his hat.

“Can I help you, sir?” she asked him, looking at him quizzically.

“Ms. Seay is expecting me,” Peter explained.

“Oh, you’d be the man from Mr. Hendely. Come in I suppose.” Peter could not help but note that her manner had become decidedly less polite once she had realized who he was. It was not a good start. He suspected that she was Mrs. Seay, the family was not likely to have a servant. Peter and his sister would not have a maid if it was not for the fact that they lived in a boarding house, and he did not suppose that the Seays were so much better off as all that. Looking around the entrance hall reaffirmed his belief. The house was well appointed and comfortable looking from what he could see, but none of it looked rich or expensive. Just comfortable.

“If you will wait here,” said the supposed Mrs. Seay. “I will go tell Charity that you have arrived.”

“I would be much obliged,” said Peter, bowing slightly. He might have bowed lower but her was not entirely positive of her identity, and he would not have liked the embarrassment of showing so much diffidence to a woman who proved to be a servant after all. To not bow at all however would have been the height of discourtesy if she proved to be who he thought. She left him to stand awkwardly while she climbed the stairs to the second story of the house. He was at least not allowed to stand long. She soon came down again.

“My daughter will be with you soon if you will step into the parlor,” said the woman. At least that relieved Peter of some of his discomfort. The woman was indeed Mrs. Seay, and so he had acted correctly. She led him into a room attached to the entry hall, bid him have a seat, and then left through another door without another word.

This time Peter was left to wait for a rather long time. He was painfully aware that it was far longer than was strictly polite. The Seays were clearly attempting to put him in his place, he wished it was not working so well. He supposed that he could only consider himself lucky that Mr. Seay had not burst into the room with a gun yet. Peter tried to occupy himself the best he could, perched on the edge of a horsehair couch, and wishing he was anywhere else. He had set his hat on the table and he toyed with it for a short time. Then, growing bored with this, he turned his attention to the cheap woodcuts that decorated the walls. They all seemed to be of a rather allegorical nature, extolling the virtues of modesty, patience, and forgiveness. He was just growing bored with these as well when the door finally opened and a rather pale young woman entered. Peter almost jumped from his seat, and bowed low to her, certain at least of her identity.

“Mr. Wells?” she asked.

“Yes. I am sorry to trouble you in such a way Ms. Seay,” said Peter.

“Not at all, Mr. Wells, I supposed that Mr. Hendely would send someone like you eventually. Indeed, I will be grateful to the through with this ordeal.” Peter had to admit that she did look as if she had been through an ordeal. Charles had described her as a lovely woman, but Peter only saw a tired one. She looked as if she had not been sleeping well, she had certainly been under much stress, that much was plain.

“Mr. Hendely is eager for a quick solution to this matter as well,” Peter assured her. “He is willing to reach a settlement with you, provided this affair does not appear before the courts. I am sure that you will agree that this would be better for both parties.”

“I am afraid, Mr. Wells, that you misunderstand me,” said Ms. Seay, looking cold. “I fully intend that Mr. Hendely’s breach of promise should be public knowledge and the best manner in which to do so is to go to law with it.”

“Would you not find that such a course of action would damage your prospects greatly?” asked Peter, surprised. It was clear that Charles had understood her mind better than Peter had when he had said that revenge was her motive.

“It being common knowledge that I was engaged to Mr. Hendely, with his reputation about town being what it is, I suspect my prospects greatly damaged in any case. I intend that he should pay for it.”

“Then I do not think that we can reach an agreement, Ms. Seay, I will see myself out,” said Peter, eager to leave. It was embarrassing to see a woman so filled with anger.

“I do not believe that we can, Mr. Wells,” Ms. Charity Seay agreed. “Incidentally, I have never heard Mr. Hendely speak of you?”

“I am employed as a bookkeeper by the firm of Hendely and Son,” Peter explained, picking up his hat and standing.

“How like Charles,” Peter heard her say as he headed to the door.

Chicken

I was digging through my old files and found some stuff from a creative writing class I took. I realize this is different from what I normally post. But, well, variety is the spice of life.

 

Chicken. I thought I was so cool, too cool to die, too cool to burn. I’m freakin’ out at this point, my seat belt has me stuck, and I can smell the smoke. I watch movies; cars on fire blow up. All I wanted was to show I wasn’t a coward, chicken.

They keep pushin’ me though, in town or in school they’d be there callin’ me a wuss an’ a wimp, they’d never let me be. So I had somethin’ to show and let them say what it’d be, chicken. Not real smart but they’d got me in a corner. So we went outta town, to the county road they use for drag racin’ ’cause no one uses it. They got us facin’ each other, me in the car, and their leader, Josh, lookin’ at me, just standin’ there. I wait ’til they’ve got it all set up and they wave at me, so I put my foot on the gas. It would’ve been fine if Josh would’ve just moved out of my way. He had no business holdin’ out so long. I’d already promised I wouldn’t turn first, ’cause loosing would have no point.

I figure I’ve lost as I get my seat belt off, ’cause last time I looked Josh was still standin’ there an’ the car’s in a tree. I don’t know for sure ’cause the last few seconds my eyes were closed. Chicken. I get the door open an’ get out, not hurt a bit. Everyone’s clappin’ me on the back an’ tellin’ me how great I am, I don’t get it. So they tell me Josh ran an’ I kept on goin’ straight, so I’ve won. They figure it’s the first time he’s lost, so I’m sort of a hero.

So now I’m gonna be left alone, which was all I wanted. But I wrecked the family car, an’ the cops came, I ended up at the station. I’m a minor so it doesn’t matter much turns out, first time too, got off light considerin’ all they said I’d done. My mom says she’s sendin’ me to Oklahoma to stay with Grandma. So none of it changes ’cause no one’s gonna believe me if I talk about this over there. I figure people’ll mess with me there just like here, I don’t look like much. Guess I’ll have to do it all over when I get there to prove it.

I’m no chicken.

 

A Desire to Hide Part Three

“What do you have that you might hold over her?” asked Peter, confused.

“She wrote me in return you see. She is not the only one with indiscreet letters.”

“It won’t work,” said Peter, shaking his head. “It matters very little whether what she wrote to you in her love letters, what matters to a court of law is that you said that you were going to marry her, and now you have been seen with other women. Indeed,” said Peter, remembering something his father had once said about a case that had made all of the papers, “it will only excite sympathy for her. She was a woman, writing to the man that she thought would marry, while you will simply be a man who was writing things to her to pass the time.”

“I knew that you were the right man,” said Charles, looking pleased. Peter was growing even more confused now. “You would be a fine lawyer.”

“I am afraid I do not understand,” said Peter.

“I need someone to be a go between her and me, I am not entirely welcome at her house anymore. She has a father who people have heard say he would shoot me if he saw me again.”

“You ought get yourself a true lawyer,” protested Peter, realization dawning.

“They are not always discreet as I should like when they are cheap, and they are expensive otherwise. I would rather have someone I know and trust doing the negotiations. I have long thought of you as a friend,” Charles added.

Peter was torn, it was flattering in more ways than one. The request was a credit to his intelligence, his hard work, his close relationship with his boss. The problem being it was also likely to get him involved in an unpleasant situation that stank of scandal, and possibly shot at if the father was truly as irate as Charles represented. Though he would never admit it in the future, it was curiosity that fueled him in the end. He was very interested to discover what in a woman could have made Charles write indiscreet letters that his strict father would be certain to find out about in the end, even if things had not blown up in such a way. Peter strongly suspected Charles was close to being cut off and only the fact that he was the only child of the family had protected him thus far.

“I make no promises,” Peter said carefully. “If you allow me her address, I will go and speak to her and see if she would be willing to settle this matter between you two, out of court.”

“I knew that I could count on you,” said Charles, happily. This answer only made Peter more nervous. Though he had said clearly that he made no promises, it was clear that Charles expected some results from him, and Charles could be a spoiled child when things did not work out for him as he expected. There was no way to get out now however, Peter had, even if it had been unintentionally, committed himself to acting as an intermediary between Charles and this thus unnamed woman, who in all honesty he suspected had every reason to complain of Charles’s treatment of her. If nothing else the comment that Charles had made about her not being of his set had made Peter squirm, Peter was acutely aware that he was also not a man of Charles’s set and it made him wonder how long the man intended to keep him around.

Peter was very quiet for the rest of the walk back to the office, though Charles was as bubbly as was to be expected of anyone who had just forced a rather large problem into someone else’s lap. Everything had now become Peter’s problem, though Peter had done nothing to deserve it. As soon as they were at the office, and before Mr. Hendely could arrive, Charles wrote the lady’s address down and gave it to Peter. Peter thrust it into his pocket right before Mr. Hendely walked through the door. He did not think that his boss would be pleased to hear that he had undertaken such a task. It was not very respectable.

Peter returned home with a far heavier heart that he had left. Mary and Ann were out, visiting a friend their land lady told him. He did seem to remember them mentioning that one of their friends was about to get married and that they were going out shopping with her to pick out household things. Peter had encouraged this, hoping that it would lead his sisters to consider what they were missing by not looking for husbands. He was finding it rather troubling.

Ms. Charity Seay was the name on the paper that Charles had handed him, above the woman’s address. He had seemed to think that Peter would simply walk over to her house and speak to her, but that did not strike Peter as an idea that would end well. If Charles had been telling the truth about the girl’s father, that might end with him getting shot. Instead he sat down to write her a letter. If he posted it soon, it would reach her by the morning post, and assuming that she was prompt with her response, he would know if she would welcome his visit by the evening, once he arrived home from work. If she was willing to speak to him, he could see no reason why everything could not be sorted out amiably, and if she was not, then he would be able to tell Peter that he had tried in any case. No matter what Peter seemed to think, all he had promised to do was try. He made sure that his letter was as polite and business like as possible, wanting to give a good impression of himself as possible, explained his business and asked for permission to call on her. He posted the letter, feeling entirely pleased with himself, and spent the evening with an easy mind.

A Small Collection of Hibbing Architecture

A Desire to Hide Part Two

Chapter One…

Peter inspected himself in the mirror carefully before stepping out, making sure that his suit was without a wrinkle, and that his tie was strait. Then he put his hat on, making certain that it was on properly, and not at the jaunty angle that was favored by some of the younger men on the street. He was no longer a young man really, and in any case his employer took great stock of how a man dressed and it would have gone poorly for Peter had he arrived at the office with any flaws in his appearance. That was fine for Peter however, because he and his boss agreed on the matter, Peter spent his life trying to hide, he would have avoided anything flashy or noticeable, even without his boss curtly expressing his views on the subject.

Had Peter required justification for what he had done so far in life, he need not have looked farther than the apartment that he now shared with his sisters. The small apartment near Satan’s Circus had been traded for an apartment in the neighborhood of Broadway, with a maid to clean and a landlady who offered board. It was a very pleasant arrangement for Peter since it removed from Mary Ann the need to keep house for him. He felt somehow that two girls of such a young age should be allowed to think on more pleasant things than cleaning the house. Now that they were eighteen, he felt that eligible young men should certainly be included in that list of pleasant things. He, himself, had no immediate plans for marriage but he did believe that if his sisters married well it would further himself and them. He had said as much to Mary, but she had not been as receptive as he might have wished. Peter had little grasp on what young ladies wished to hear in connection with marriage, and he had used phrases such as convenience, and money, instead of love or romance. It had went so poorly with Mary, who was the more agreeable of his sisters, that he had not yet dared take up the subject with Ann. He needn’t have in any case, since the twins told one another everything, Ann had heard about it quickly enough and had treated him coldly for several days.

Peter’s position as bookkeeper at the well to do firm Hindely and Son provided him with wages enough that he might have taken a streetcar to work daily and not missed the small cost, but on fine days he preferred to walk. It being such a day he allowed himself a little extra time and set out with what was almost a jaunty step. It was jaunty enough that he need not have allowed himself as much time as he had to reach the office and he arrived early. Still, it would do little harm if he started his work early and he would impress his boss with his keenness.

The front of the business was a warehouse, with the offices in the back. It was only because he had to pass through the warehouse first that Peter did not walk into what might have been a very embarrassing situation. He could luckily hear the raised voices in the offices, and he did not simply walk in, but instead decided to wait until they had quieted. One of them was the boss, and the other was the son of the boss, who worked as a sort of junior partner in the firm.

“It is a fine thing to say that you did not intend anything now. She has letters that say otherwise, and a lawyer.”

“For what good they might do her. She was a damn fool for thinking me serious.”

“They will do her a great deal of good in a court of law, and I intend that what good she does for herself comes from your share in the company. I will not pay the price for your flirtations.”

Peter decided that it was indecent that he should remain listening in such a way for what was clearly a private conversation. He threw the door open far more dramatically than he would have normally so that they would not be taken by surprise and walked into the office as if nothing was wrong. The two men who were already in the office made a great show of seeming to be about their business, but they did it poorly. Horace Hindely, his senior boss was looking ruffled, while Charles Hindely was slightly pinker than he normally was, both men looked rather warm.

“Good morning, Sirs,” said Peter, as was his want.

“Good morning Mr. Wells,” said Horace Hindely, just as he always said. His manners, Peter would be the first to admit, were impeccable no matter what the occasion. The same could not be said for Charles Hindely, who simply nodded curtly. If Peter had not heard the argument he would have been offended by such treatment, especially since he was rather friendly with Charles, but he was willing to be generous due to the circumstances.

Though the other men in the office had heard nothing of the fight between father and son, something was in the air, and it was a subdued day. Horace Hindely was in a poor temper and he almost reduced the office boy to tears with a lecture that was well deserved admittedly, but full of harsher words than he would have normally used with the boy. Charles, who was normally the life of the office, and who certainly would have normally stepped in on the boy’s behalf, instead sat at his desk in the corner and said nothing to anyone. This state of affairs lasted until supper time when Peter was finally able to escape the uncomfortable office into the noisy bustle of the city. He even loosened his tie a little against the warm day. It was certainly not something that he would have done had he realized that Charles was walking behind him. Though they were friendly, and Charles was not as stiff as his father, Peter could not avoid thinking of the man as his boss and slovenly appearance was not something he wished associated with him at work. When Charles spoke to him, Peter had to stop himself from showing how startled he was.

“Know a good place to eat, Peter?” asked Charles. He would never have been on such familiar terms in the office, but now that they were away, it was only natural.

“There is a place a short way away that I normally frequent,” Peter said, looking at his junior boss quizzically.

“I need to get away from the old man for a spell,” Charles explained. “You saw what a fine temper he was in today. Paul did not deserve the dressing down he gave him.”

“He had stopped to play instead of going straight to the post office,” said Peter, not willing to completely exonerate the office boy of any wrong doing.

“This is the first position he has ever held, and he is still new,” said Charles. Peter said nothing in response to this, it was clear that Charles was simply trying to find fault with his father after their argument. It was a lucky thing that the restaurant was nearby since it gave Peter something to say, otherwise things might have descended into a rather uncomfortable silence.

“I am afraid this place is not so nice as the place you generally eat with Mr. Hendely,” said Peter, opening the door for Charles.

“But it has the benefit of not having him,” said Charles, walking in and finding them a seat by a window. The two men gave their orders to the waiter and Charles settled back comfortably. Peter found himself unable to completely relax in front of his boss however.

“Forgive me for saying that I did notice some unpleasantness between you and Mr. Hendely today,” said Peter carefully.

“We aren’t at the office, you can say whatever you want,” said Charles. “In any case, it ought be plain as day that my father and I are not on good terms at the moment. He is not known for his flexibility.”

“Your father is a man of strong moral character,” suggested Peter, unwilling to condemn a man that he admired so much.

“A man must have some fun,” protested Charles. “The old man seems to think I can sit in an office all day and be happy with my lot in life. One stupid woman who does not understand that a man says a great many things in the heat of passion complains to him of me, and suddenly I am the greatest villain on earth.”

“Is she embarrassed?” asked Peter, delicately. If she was pregnant it would certainly make a good deal of difference. For one thing it would mean that she was not respectable and therefore deserved no pity.

“No,” said Charles quickly, “nothing like that. Only an embarrassment. I took her around you know, showed her a good time. She did not complain then. She’s pretty enough, good to be seen about town with, you know. Still, a little dull, what I want is a girl who really knows how to enjoy herself. I would rather forget all about her, but so long as she is a threat to Father’s pocket book I will never hear the end of it.”

“She has gone to law?” asked Peter. Charles nodded glumly, it was obvious that he only needed someone to talk to, and Peter was convenient.

“For breach of promise,” said Charles. “As I said, a man says a good many things in the heat of passion, but she is not really of my set, if you understand me. If she had had a half penny-weight of sense she would have known better than to think me serious. Indeed, I believe she never did,” Charles seemed increasingly annoyed. “I believe she has simply hit on a plan to make money of me now that I have tossed her aside. I should have never written the little whore those letters,” he added, banging on the table for emphasis.

He chose an unfortunate time to say it as the waiter had walked up behind the two men with their order. Charles turned bright red when he noticed the man, and the waiter walked away smirking after placing their food on the table, undoubtedly going off to tell the rest of the wait staff what he had just overheard. At least Charles seemed to understand, to Peter’s relief, that a restaurant was too public of a place to speak of such things and they ate in relative silence. They were out on the street again before Charles said anything further.

“I would rather this all did not go to court, that is the greatest trouble with this case. I do not mind so much the money that she wants, but to have one’s letter read out in front of the newspaper men and all. That is a little too much for a man.”

“Perhaps she feels the same,” said Peter, though this was far outside of his range of experience.

“No, this is revenge, count on it. She’ll make me the laughing stock of the city.”

“Then hold something over her that will stop her,” said Peter. He regretted it the moment he saw Charles’s face light up. Though he did not think of it then, once he had time to sit down and consider the chain of events, he strongly suspected that Charles had been waiting for Peter to say something of that sort.

“Now that I think on it, I think I will do just that,” said Charles.

Poorly drawn bunny says “Happy Easter!”

A Desire to Hide Part One

I feel the need to explain, though I probably shouldn’t. This story is mostly born of one thing, I have no romance in my soul at all, and my friends keep telling me that romance does happen in people’s lives.(I realize this actually, I am engaged, but my characters don’t need to know this). Apparently however, I need to start writing some romance, simply to be realistic. I also have friends who really like romantic things, so I have been writing this for them. I have not been writing it as regularly as I ought to however because pirates are simply so much more FUN. I am now posting it in the hope that maybe I will feel obliged to write it now.

The prologue…

The twins, Mary and Ann, remembered little of their father, except that he had been tall, an intimidating figure. Like so many other Irish immigrants in New York city he had found a job as a policeman, walking his beat through the dangerous Five Points neighborhood without a word of complaint, though he also never said a word of pleasure. He had not been a man of many words at all. Gone at all hours, and paying little attention to his family when he was home, it made him something of an idol, to be respected at a distance but never approached. Much of the actual upbringing of the two girls was done by a neighbor woman with no children of her own, for a small sum of money paid to her weekly by their father. Still, if the twins did not remember him much in life, it was hard for them to forget his funeral.

The two of them were seven then, dressed in the identical black dresses that their brother had bought for them. They both cried of course, as the flood of neighbors came with their sympathies and little gifts. Some of them brought food for the poor orphans, some of them brought cloths that such and such a daughter or son had outgrown. For the two little girls in their simple black dresses, it was the end of the world. It did not help that with the well intentioned neighbors and friends, came a rush of conversation and gossip that filled their tiny apartment as it had never been filled before, it was entirely overwhelming.

“The poor children.”

“What was it that they said killed him?”

“Sick they said, you know Peter told me just the other day that his father had a chill.”

“They didn’t send for a doctor?”

“Peter wanted to you know, but, well you know how Danial was. He wouldn’t allow his son to go for one.”

“Probably worried about the expense.”

“But think of his poor children. Especially the little ones.”

“Such a tragedy.”

“And Peter such a good, hard working boy, but so young to face the world with two sisters to care for.”

“And with their mother dead these seven years. It seems too much.”

“The poor children.”

All that Peter, their older brother by twelve years, would tell the twins was that their father had died of a cold. That someone could die of a cold was not something that had ever occurred to either child before, but for the next two years both girls lived in terror of the slightest sneeze, fearing that it might spell their own doom. It was only when Mary said something to Peter about it that he realized his mistake and explained to the two girls with some embarrassment that while at first their father had had a cold, it had developed into something else, which had been what had actually killed him, and that if they ever got something worse than a cold they were to tell him so that he could go for a doctor.

At the funeral, people that the two girls had never met cried over them. Large, frightening men, with strange names and scars that showed even now that they were wearing their best clothing came to express their pity for the recently orphaned twins. Peter got no sympathy, it seemed to be understood that by the virtue of both his gender and age he needed none. Several of the men who came forward went so far as to talk about a collection that might be taken up among them for the sake of the children at their next racket. When Mary innocently asked them if they were policemen like her papa had been, they laughed and said no, but that they had been friends of Dan’s.

By the time that they got home it was late evening and the twins were exhausted. Both had been worn out from the attention and the crying of the last few days and they had both agreed that they wanted to take off their new, uncomfortable clothing, and go to bed. This was not allowed however, as soon as they were alone, Peter carefully closed the apartment door and told the two that he wanted to talk to them. It was the part of the day that would burn itself into the memories of the two for longer than any of the other details of that day, because that was the moment that everything changed. Even the death of their father had not changed their lives to the extent that what came next did.

Peter had never been distant like their father had been, in some ways he had been more of a father to the girls than their true father was, but the age barrier was there and could not be denied. He was far older than they were, and knew far more about what was going on, and it had always prevented the two girls from being too close with their brother, even though he had always been very caring towards them. Now however, for the first time he crouched down so that he would be at eye level with them, and he spoke to them as equals. It was surprising enough that both girls stopped complaining about how tired they were, they even stopped the almost constant flood of tears that they had been creating since their father’s death, Peter was the center of their attention.

“We are going to be moving tomorrow,” Peter began, and instantly the two girls tried to protest. They had lived in the tenement building for as long as they could remember, though Peter had once told them that they had been born in a small cottage in Harlem. He spoke fondly of the house that he himself had spent much of his childhood in, until the death of their mother.

“Listen to me,” Peter insisted. “With father gone we can’t live here anymore. I need to support you now, and I am not a police officer. I need to live in a place where I can get work.”

“People work here,” protested Ann.

“In saloons, and gambling houses,” said Peter dismissively. “I can’t be arrested if I have to take care of you two. That brings me to the next thing, we are no longer the Finnegan family, it doesn’t do to be Irish in this town, or anywhere else for that matter.”

Such a comment was baffling to the girls and they were not to understand what he was talking about for years. Almost everyone that they knew was Irish, it was something to be proud of, it meant that you were a part of the community. For the two girls, who had very rarely stepped out of the neighborhood, the world spoke with a thick Irish brogue, even those parts of it who had never set foot on the shores of Ireland. The twins themselves spoke with a thick Irish accent that they had learned from the cradle, as did Peter. But they were to throw that all away, and learn to speak again, in perfect American English, that would have made their father roll in his grave. They went to a all girl’s school, that taught them how to act like ladies, they cooked, and kept house for their brother the best that they could for their age. They were indeed, everything that they would not have been, had they stayed in Five Points and they were happy in the knowledge that this fact made Peter happy. That was when they were seven though, and now they were eighteen, and staring at their brother’s new wife.