“They called yesterday,” said Berty, demurely.
“Well, well, and did they mention your park?”
“They were full of it. I went down to the wharf with them. I am there half the time. You must come, Margaretta, and see the work going on.”
“Where did the Mayor get the money?”
“Squeezed it out of something. He said his councillors approved. He won’t see me, though—carries on all the business by correspondence.”
Margaretta looked anxious, but Berty was unheeding, and went on, eloquently. “Isn’t it queer how Grandma’s teaching is in our very bones? I didn’t know I had it in me to keep even our own family together, but I have. I’d fight like a wolf for you and Bonny, Margaretta, and now I’m getting so I’ll fight like a wolf for our bigger human family.”
Margaretta’s anxiety passed away, and she smiled indulgently. “Very well, sister. It’s noble to fight for the right, but don’t get to be that thing that men hate so. What is it they call that sort of person—oh, yes, a new woman.”
Berty raised both hands. “I’ll be a new woman, or an old woman, or a wild woman, or a tame woman, or any kind of a woman, except a lazy woman!”