The love that had rushed from my heart toward the Statue in the Bay, rushed out to Mrs. Olney. She seemed to me the living spirit of America. All that I had ever dreamed America to be shone to me out of the kindness of her brown eyes. She would save me from the sordidness that was crushing me I felt the moment I looked at her. Sympathy and understanding seemed to breathe from her serene presence.
I longed to open my heart to her, but I was so excited I didn’t know where to begin.
“I’m crazy to learn!” I gasped breathlessly, and then the very pressure of the things I had to say choked me.
An encouraging smile warmed the fine features.
“What trade would you like to learn—sewing-machine operating?”
“Sewing-machine operating?” I cried. “Oi weh!” I shuddered. “Only the thought ‘machine’ kills me. Even when I only look on clothes, it weeps in me when I think how the seams from everything people wear is sweated in the shop.”
“Well, then”—putting a kind hand on my shoulder—“how would you like to learn to cook? There’s a great need for trained servants and you’d get good wages and a pleasant home.”
“Me—a servant?” I flung back her hand. “Did I come to America to make from myself a cook?”
Mrs. Olney stood abashed a moment. “Well, my dear,” she said deliberately, “what would you like to take up?”
“I got ideas how to make America better, only I don’t know how to say it out. Ain’t there a place I can learn?”