All at once a whole battery of guards bore down upon them, but not before they yelled in unison, "Senators! Don’t delay the Women’s Amendment!"
The startled senators, goggle-eyed, stared up at them. They were pointing, gesticulating, and sputtering when they noticed the banner swaying above their heads. A number of men applauded but others shook their fists.
"You vixens!" a burly guard shouted. Two guards, each one grabbing Laura’s arm, dragged her up the aisle.
The guards pulled so hard on her arms that she kept back her tears with difficulty. With blazing eyes and a rage boiling up inside, she viciously kicked one sharply in the shin, causing a sharp yelp of pain.
Cassie, too, fought her captors, but it wasn’t any use. They were dragged and shoved into the Senate’s Guard Room. Laura’s guard pushed her into a high-backed chair where she sat, glaring at him.
Not knowing what would happen next, she wasn’t too surprised when the door was flung open and in strode Colonel Ridley.
The short, dapper man was furious, his face a contorted red blotch. "You dare to interrupt Senate proceedings!" he thundered. "I’ll send you to prison on treason charges!"
Laura glimpsed Cassie’s calm face and wondered if underneath she were as frightened as she was. Treason! Her blood chilled at the thought. That was an offense punishable by death!
Colonel Ridley paced back and forth, every once in a while stopping to confront them, ranting and raving at them for what seemed like hours.
A guard opened the door. "Excuse me, sir. The vice-president."
Colonel Ridley replaced his glower with a sober, calm expression and straightened his shoulders.
William Marshall brushed hurriedly past the guard.
Laura sat stunned. The vice-president of the United States!
The vice-president, however, scarcely glanced at them as he conferred in low tones with the colonel.
The colonel’s face reddened, but he nodded his head and said, "Yes, sir, right away, sir."
Mr. Marshall departed, leaving Colonel Ridley staring at them for a moment. Then he spat out the words, "You’re free to go."
"Free to…" Laura gasped.
"You heard me!" the colonel snarled.
"But, why?" Cassie asked, as puzzled as Laura.
The colonel’s face flushed angrily. "The vice-president says they don’t want any more publicity than necessary about your incident." He glowered at them. "If I had my way I’d throw you in the nearest cell for twenty years!" In disgust he turned his back on them and shouted, "Guards!"
Two soldiers immediately appeared.
"Escort these two radicals out of here."
"Yes, sir." They smartly saluted and walked the girls into the hall, through the Rotunda, and out onto the marble steps.
As they walked down the mall, Cassie and Laura couldn’t believe their fantastic luck.
Laura giggled. "I wonder if our banner is still waving in the Senate Chamber."
"I imagine it was ripped down about two seconds after we were forced out," Cassie said dryly. "Laura," she said thoughtfully, "do you think Miss Paul will be angry with us?"
"I’m afraid she might, but if we had waited for her permission we’d never have done it!"
But Miss Paul was not angry. In fact, she was pleased at their bold move. However, she did admonish them not to do it again, for they would need all their energy for the upcoming October thirty-first demonstration in front of the Senate.
The next day Joe came home, and she dreaded to face him, for his mother was very sick with the flu. Poor Bertina! Yesterday when she went up to visit her, Aldo had barred the door, shaking his head helplessly.
"Bertina has flu," he said gruffly. "You go home."
She had looked into Aldo’s large sad eyes, and her heart ached for him.
This morning, before eating her breakfast, she had to find out how Bertina was. Joe was staying downstairs in Otto Detler’s apartment, for the flu was too contagious. Aldo would allow Joe in the house only for a few minutes at a time. He was needed to tend the store.
Laura gazed out the kitchen window at the bright fall leaves and wished things were as bright in the Menotti household. How quickly things could change!
"Ah, Laura," her mother said, hurrying in, dressed in her coat and hat. "I need to go to work. They’re short of conductors. Please take the soup that’s on the stove to the Menottis." Her eyes softened. "You mustn’t go in, Laura. Leave it on the doorstep."
"But if it’s so contagious, won’t Aldo get it?"
Mrs. Mitchell smiled, stirring the soup. "He says he’s strong like lion. Sometimes people in the same household of an influenza patient are immune."
"Mother," Laura said thoughtfully, "this epidemic is serious, isn’t it?"
Maude’s eyes clouded. "I’m afraid so. Over five hundred cases have been reported so far in Washington."
Just then Sarah entered and poured her coffee. "Good morning, Mother, Laura."
"Hi, Sarah." Laura looked back at her mother. "I just hope our family stays healthy."
"We’re strong like lions, too," her mother said with a short laugh.
And Laura could almost believe her. They would remain untouched, she thought. Just look at her mother’s ruddy, strong face and Sarah’s rosy glow. Yes, she felt better. The Mitchells would be fine. But Bertina was another question. "I hope Bertina will be all right," she said. "I’m worried about her."
"We all are." Laura’s mother hugged her around the waist. "Don’t forget to deliver the soup. I know it will make Bertina stronger."
"What are my Saturday chores?" asked Laura, hugging her mother back.
"Rake leaves. Otto will be busy cleaning the eaves and drainspouts."
"And Sarah?"
"I work at the factory today," Sarah interjected. "They’re stepping up rifle production."
"You’ve been putting in long hours," Laura said.
"Yes," Sarah replied. "And I’ll be home late again tonight."
After her mother and Sarah had left for work, Laura cleaned the kitchen, put a lid on the steaming soup kettle, and hauled it upstairs. Setting it on the doorstep, she rang the bell and waited for Aldo to answer.
The door opened slowly, and Laura backed away when she saw his drawn, haggard face. "How is Bertina ?" she questioned anxiously.
Aldo moved his massive head back and forth. "Not good, not good."
"The soup will help," she said in a low voice, indicating the container.
"Grazie," he murmured.
"Prego," she answered his Italian with the Italian "You’re welcome." Her eyes filled with tears as she ran downstairs.
Joe was just coming up from Otto’s apartment. "Have you got an extra cup of coffee?"
"Oh, Joe," she said, hastily wiping away a tear. "Come in." She felt so sorry for him. What a gloomy homecoming.
After she had poured two cups of coffee she reached over and touched Joe’s hand. "I hope your mom will be better soon. The soup should help."
"Mama is too healthy. It’s sad to see her like this. The only time Papa will let me see her is when I wear a mask and stay for only a few minutes at a time." He drank his coffee, but his gentle eyes were no longer filled with dancing lights. "At least I can help out at the store, and since we prepare army provisions, I’ll be given an extended leave. I’d like to take you out tonight," he said, "but I need to be close to Mama." He looked at her, and a crooked grin lit his face. "Maybe we can just sit and talk. I need that right now."
Her hand tightened on his fingers, and her face reddened. She felt wretched not to be with Joe when he needed her. "I’d like that," she said lamely, "but I won’t be home until late tonight."
"Shawn?" He gave her a rueful smile.