“Could you place me where I would not be recognized?” I inquired.
“Know many persons on the upper West Side?” she asked. I shook my head. “Ever see Miss Madeline Marks?” Again I shook my head. “She’s in charge at the West 78th Street branch. She’s been begging for help. I’ll give you a card——”
The telephone at her elbow rang vigorously. She took off the receiver and applied it to her ear, all the while filling in a card introducing me to Miss Madeline Marks.
“Daskam & Howe? Yes, I remember. You want addressers? Piece-work? One and a quarter a thousand? No, I can’t send you any one at that.” The secretary’s tone was final. “One fifty is the least they are taking. Most demand two. Are they getting it?” A satisfied chuckle. “I’ve listed about four vacancies to every one I’ve been able to fill. Of course if any one comes in—What’s that?—one dollar seventy-five?”
“I’ll take it,” I whispered. “Tell them you’ll be able to send one.”
“I may be able to send you one or two at one seventy-five,” she called over the wire. “Of course I’ll do the best I can for you. Good-by.” As she hung up the receiver she turned to me. “I was in hopes you’d be willing to help the Suffrage Party out,” she told me, and it was plainly evident that she was disappointed. “This is the last week before the election, and——”
“I’m going to take both positions,” I hastened to interrupt. “My first job was with Daskam & Howe—mail-order house. The manager of the addressers is a nice little man; he’ll let me get off afternoons in time to canvass for suffrage.”
She cut her eyes at me and smiled.
“Any of them will do that now,” she assured me. “They’ll let you do about anything you want, they are so put to it to get workers. I’m glad you’re going to work for suffrage. Do you think there’s any chance of our winning?”
“If I work for it—yes.”