April 29th, 1894

The walk from the school to Graham Windham only took ten minutes, but today Clara found herself rushing to make her way there on time. She'd started working small shifts a couple of years ago at the orphanage, instead of going straight home after school. Her usual tasks involved helping in the kitchens, and doing homework with younger children, but today she would be sitting in on her mother's planning meeting and she couldn't be late. She'd dallied too long after her last class to get a new book from their small library, and now hurried into the meeting room to take her seat beside her mother only a moment before Mrs. Moore – the head of the board of directors – entered. Clara gave a small sigh of relief and fixed the loose strands of hair that'd fallen from her bun in her hurry and gave her mother a small smile. Mrs. Lemay only gave her a distracted glance and pushed her a pad of paper to take notes. Clara fished in her bag for a pencil as the ladies greeted each other and took a deep breath to steady her racing pulse.

Mrs. Moore thumped a binder on the table to get everyone's attention and started the meeting with a few pleasantries before asking Mrs. Lemay to go over the minutes of last month's meeting. She shuffled through her papers before clearing her throat.

"The first order of business from April was going over finances, all of which were in order, and making plans for a baking fundraiser which we did. Mrs. Miller has the records of how much we made from those sales. We tabled the topic of starting the potluck park days until this month, weather pending. We all know the operations involved in that, so it's just a matter of deciding a date. I suggest this upcoming Sunday, at the start of June."

"Motion seconded."

"Motion passed," Mrs. Moore said. "We'll need to make a sign-up sheet and posters for that as usual."

"I can handle that," added Mrs. Davis, who sat across from Clara. She was an older woman with fluffy white hair who always slipped Clara peppermints after these meetings, and as such, she was Clara's favorite of the charity ladies.

"Can I make molasses cookies for the dessert?" She asked, stealing her mother's fountain pen and quickly writing 'meal sign-ups' at the top of her pad of paper, then listing various dishes down the left-hand side. She pushed it across the table to Mrs. Davis and daintily put the pen back in its place. "I like that job best."

Mrs. Moore shot Clara an annoyed glance. "Yes, if your mother agrees. We ought to let everyone have their say first."

"Of course, and thank you for making the sign-up sheet," said Mrs. Davis, adding Clara's name to the dessert line, and her own to pasta salad line. "Your penmanship has improved."

"I've been practicing."

Ms. Moore cleared her throat to bring them back to the task at hand. "Mrs. Lemay, would you like to continue going over the minutes?"

"ahem, yes. Clara, please don't interrupt."

"Sorry."

Mrs. Lemay opened her mouth as if to say something else before shaking her head slightly and turning back to her papers. "Mrs. Miller and Mrs. Moore also went to the city council meeting last week since Mayor Gilroy would be looking at funding for institutions such as our own. We had scheduled for this meeting a debriefing on that so we know how to operate moving forward."

"Yes, tell us how that went. I don't suppose you met the new head of that disreputable place in Manhattan."

Mrs. Moore nodded, "One Mr. Snyder has taken over as the warden of The Refuge. He's already familiar with the workings of the home, having worked as one of the enforcers before, and he lost no time in befriending the mayor."

"It seemed to me that he rather took after the unpleasant sort of character of his predecessor," Mrs. Miller added. "I don't believe that anything is going to change under his purview."

Clara shifted in her seat and looked curiously from woman to woman. She'd heard snippets in the past of their distaste for this place, but they'd never discussed it so bluntly before in her presence, and she wondered how they'd first learned of this place's infamy. She bit her lip, weighing her mother's unspoken but altogether too clear instruction to stay quiet with her burning curiosity before opting to simply raise her hand.

The conversation stopped. Mrs. Moore opened her mouth to start saying something, but Mrs. Davis cut her off before the rest could object to the interruption. "Yes Clara, what's the matter?"

"How do you know the Refuge is so bad? What do they do? Have you been there?"

"Questions, questions," Mrs. Moore muttered under her breath. Mrs. Davis ignored her.

"We've taken in a child or two in the past who make their way across the bridge after being released from the Refuge. They were starving upon arrival, and their experiences were…" she paused, attempting to find a way to explain what they'd heard to Clara. "The Refuge doesn't take as much care of their wards as we do, to put it simply. It's overcrowded and not particularly clean, and the children were happy to have a new set of clothes and a bed to themselves."

"That's horrible," Clara said, turning her pencil over in her hands. She couldn't imagine a child leaving their orphanage starving – sometimes they had to add extra water to their soups to make what food they did have donated stretch far enough, but they always made sure everyone was fed.

"Yes. We don't approve of how they run their operations," Mrs. Miller added. "The city funds all the institutions in the same way – proportional to the number of children they're caring for, and that much hasn't changed at this last meeting either."

"They didn't approve of the new budget motion?" Mrs. Lemay asked.

"No. They discussed finances for only a minute to review the last quarter's spending, shot down any new suggestions, and approved the same movement they always do, before moving onto other topics. We couldn't get a word in edgewise," Mrs. Morris said. "No matter. We can't change what's happened so we ought to move forward as planned. We'll have to plan for another fundraiser for-"

"Can't we do something about the Refuge?!" Clara interrupted.

"Miss Lemay! We are gracious enough to allow you to participate in our meetings, the very least you can do is speak in turn," Mrs. Moore admonished.

"They can't just get away with that!" Clara argued, jabbing her pencil in her direction. "You know it's bad, why don't you say something about it?"

Mrs. Lemay took the pencil and forced Clara's hand down. "Hush."

Mrs. Davis gave her a sad smile, "We've tried, dear. The mayor isn't exactly inclined to listen to a bunch of "hens" as we're unfortunately known. There isn't anything we can do."

Clara scowled. This was ridiculous. There had to be something that could be done. Maybe they could start a petition? Or a picket line? Or they could lobby somebody above the mayor. How do you even do that? And who would be above the mayor? The governor? The president? They probably couldn't go all the way to Washington.

"Clara." She was called back to the present by her mother's call. "Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

"Oh. Yes, I understand," she lied. Another stern look. "I apologize for interrupting."

"Thank you," Ms. Moore said, before continuing about some other topic. Clara didn't bother to listen, and soon enough, the meeting was over and she and her mother were making their way back home for the evening. Clara refused to say anything, partially to not annoy her mother by speaking out of turn yet again, and partially to annoy her mother by not acknowledging her presence as she instead busied herself by trying to walk and read her new book at the same time, and partially because she was eating the mint that Mrs. Davis had given her on the way out the door (the one good thing to come out of the meeting in her opinion.) She'd only nearly walked off the sidewalk once before her mother broke the silence.

"You were rather upset by the talk of the Refuge today," she acknowledged, attempting to draw her normally-talkative daughter out into the conversation.

"Mmmmm Mmmmm." Clara bit her tongue and flipped a page. Hop over a loose cobblestone. A glance back down.

"Is this the first you've heard us discuss it? I thought you were familiar with the place from our prior conversations."

"nnnuuuuuhhhh." She turned to her mother and demonstrated that she was, in fact, biting her tongue.

"Oh, enough with that attitude already," Mrs. Lemay plucked the book out of Clara's hands.

"Hey!"

"Whatever is the matter with you today?"

"I'm sorry. It's not my fault Mrs. Moore is of the daft opinion that children ought to be invisible and mute."

"Clara!"

"Heaven knows how on earth she got put in charge of an orphanage, of all the careers." To Cara's surprise, her mother laughed at that comment. She huffed in annoyance. "I'm so glad you're taking me seriously now."

Mrs. Lemay sighed in resignation. "Mrs. Moore is our director for her organizational and administrative skills. She's an adept leader in terms of raising funds, keeping inventory for food and necessities, hosting events, and attending those sorts of city council meetings. Mrs. Miller and Mrs. Davis are in charge of actually taking care of the children and they do a good job of relaying relevant information to her, though I do agree with you, she could stand to interact with her wards a little more."

"hmghff."

"And you could stand to learn some manners. It is impolite to speak out of turn, in any sort of public situation. We don't exactly abide by that at home since it's only us, but you must learn to keep quiet during formal meetings, especially if you want to be involved in these sorts of operations in the future."

"Yes Mother," Clara sighed.

"Thank you."

"I just don't see why they gave up so easily on bringing attention to the Refuge," Clara argued. She made a motion as if she was jabbing with a pen again, before realizing she wasn't holding a pen and shoving her hands in her pockets.

"It doesn't seem like they tried very hard to make their point, especially with there being a new warden. That's the time to strike, to make some sort of new change, with all the other new changes he'll bring!" She continued, "Were they really not allowed to speak at the city council meeting? I want to go and have a strong word with them all myself. When can we next go to Manhattan? We ought to set up another personal meeting."

"Clara, they're fortunate they were allowed in the city council meetings. We're normally not allowed to even attend that sort of thing, and though they can sit in the room, we have no vote in the matter either. They don't want to risk their place at the table by doing anything too brash."

"Oh." Clara's face flushed with anger at the injustice and nonsense of it all. "What good is a place at the table if you don't ever get to say anything?"

Mrs. Lemay gave a long sigh as Clara's point hit home and smoothly changed the topic. "The next time I have to go into the city, I'll take you past the Refuge so you can see the place for yourself. We won't be able to go inside, but if you'd like to stand on the sidewalk, you'll be allowed to do that, at least. I think that's a compromise we can all live with, hmmm?"

Clara groaned. It wasn't much but it would be better than sitting around, useless to do anything of use at home. "Deal."

A/N: The plot thickens, and Clara has returned! Next week we'll see the Newsies again, and thank you as always for reading :)