“Not for horses and carriages, not for fine houses am I pleading, but for equal rights in comfort and decency. Would you take your cold dip every morning if you had to cross a frozen yard in winter, and a filthy yard in summer for every drop of water you use?”
Margaretta shuddered.
“Would you have your house kept clean if it were so dark that you couldn’t see the dirty corners?”
“No, I wouldn’t,” said Margaretta, decidedly, “but who owns those dreadful places?”
“You do,” said Berty, shortly.
“I do!” said Margaretta, aghast.
“Yes—some of them. Roger holds property down there in your name. All the rich people in the city like to invest in River Street tenements. They’re always packed.”
“I won’t have it,” said Margaretta. “Roger shall sell out.”
“Don’t sell—improve your property, and get some of the stain off your soul. Women should ask their husbands where they invest their money. Good old Mrs. Darlway, the temperance worker, owns a building with a saloon in it.”
“Oh, misery!” exclaimed Margaretta, “she doesn’t know it, of course.”