At Madam Singleton’s my boyish mind had not grasped the greater tragedy. Fresh air, light, meat, drink, and music—that was all I saw there then. But the tired women were prisoners more hopeless than the savage men fighting for food in the jail. The bodily comforts they had at Madam Singleton’s but served to tighten their shackles. Life-timers of society, they were slowly sinking without a straw to grasp at.
The time flew till Sunday. I looked over my clothes and wished I had my gray suit and gray hat. I had saved my money but had not enough yet to buy them.
I was apprehensive about meeting Julia. I could picture her coming into the drug store for me in a dashing big hat, rustling silk dress, expensive shoes, all powdered, perfumed, and painted as she was in Madam Singleton’s. And me with my pants too short, my coat sleeves way up my wrists, and my shirt open at the collar. I wanted to go, but at times my heart failed me, and when I went to bed the Saturday night before I was still undecided, hesitating.
Sunday morning I got up early, determined to face the thing. I also settled another matter that had disturbed my mind of late. I got a shave. I walked around till I found an idle barber in his empty shop. He fixed me up with as much ceremony as if I had been an old customer.
At ten I was at the drug store, and Julia was inside, waiting. I had to look twice to be sure of her. She wore a faded blue tailored suit, a wide-rimmed straw sailor hat with a ribbon, and a pair of worn but substantial shoes. No powder or paint, nothing to remind me of Madam Singleton’s.
“Don’t pay any attention to my clothes.” She saw me looking at them. “These are the ones I had on when I went there. I have lots of others, but Miss Kate won’t let me wear them when I go out unless I am with her. I owe her so much money she is afraid I’ll run away. All the girls owe her. They are always in debt to her; that’s the way she keeps them there.”
We hunted up a livery stable near by. A big, good-natured fat man was in charge, and we told him we wanted some gentle saddle horses. He looked at Julia. She had a cocky air, and acted more like a boy than a girl.
“Do you want to ride straddle-legged, gal? If you do, I’ve got some of them bloomer things.”
Julia did not blush or stammer. “No, I don’t want to ride straddle. What do you think I am anyway?” She was angry. “You get me a riding habit and a side saddle and mind your own business.”
He went after the horses.