The Paper Daughters of Chinatown - Heather B. Moore Page 0,40

staff member around the table. She set the poem on the table before her, then folded her hands atop it. “I know I haven’t been here as long as most of you, but we cannot deny that these rescued girls have vulgar habits, some of which cannot be broken.”

Dolly exhaled as her neck prickled with heat.

“The women from the brothels have no integrity,” Mrs. Field continued, “and I’m sorry if that’s difficult to hear. We are all doing our best and acting as true disciples of Christ, but let’s not ignore the fact that some souls are too depraved to change or to be saved.”

The anger kindling in Dolly’s chest burned hotter, and she gripped the edges of the table in order to keep from saying something she would later regret.

“These low-grade Mongolian women are a bad influence on the other, more innocent girls.” Mrs. Field’s gaze finally landed on Dolly. “Their spirits are turbulent, and allowing them to live among the more innocent girls is lowering everyone’s morale and decency.”

Ah Cheng and Yuen Qui were both looking down at the table. Now, things that Dolly had overlooked over the past months about the way Mrs. Field reprimanded and ordered punishments made sense. If she believed the abused women they rescued were beyond saving and had become, in fact, half devil, her actions were consistent with that belief. The volunteer staff members were perhaps as flabbergasted as Dolly, yet she couldn’t stay silent any longer.

“I disagree, Mrs. Field.” Dolly clasped her trembling hands on her lap. “The work we are doing is not a ‘white man’s burden.’ Each woman we help is her own person, and each woman is capable of living a full and joyful life. We are here to offer light to all the souls who come to us for rescue, no matter their race. Like a crop of wildflowers, the women will grow and develop with our sunshine and water.”

Mrs. Field pursed her lips and looked about the table. Her frown deepened when no one took the opportunity to agree with her. “I believe time will prove me right, and I daresay that many will agree with me. Maybe not here, among the staff who’s devoted to you, Miss Cameron, but others who have been dealing with these types of depraved people year after year and have seen no improvement as a whole.”

Dolly exhaled slowly. “Many of the rescued women find employment or marry and raise families, becoming productive members of society.”

“I guess it depends on how you define productive,” Mrs. Field said. “I don’t count the type of progress you are suggesting, and I don’t think it’s possible with the type of coddling you do with these girls. You’ve allowed them to stay in their beds when suffering from melancholy, and the ones who are pregnant . . . well. They should not even be allowed residence here.”

Dolly was stunned. She could only imagine how the other staff members felt.

From beyond the kitchen, Dolly heard a tumble of footsteps. Someone was coming. She sorely wanted to excuse herself to answer, if only to take a break from the hateful words and icy composure of the director. But a moment later, Tien appeared in the dining room and produced a note.

Mrs. Field snatched it from Tien, while the Chinese girl cast a guilty glance at the staff members, and Dolly suspected the girl might have been eavesdropping. Dolly was sorry that Tien, as difficult as she could be to manage, had overheard such hateful words from the director.

Dolly watched Tien exchange glances with Yuen Qui, a woman whom she idolized, and saw the girl’s expression soften. Dolly was glad that Tien was fond of at least one staff member since the departure of Miss Culbertson, because the relationship between Dolly and Tien was still tenuous at best.

Tien was a stubborn girl, sometimes to her credit, and sometimes to her detriment. In this case, she remained in the dining room as Mrs. Field read the note.

Mrs. Field’s mouth pressed tight as she read; then she snapped her narrow gaze to Dolly. “Well, it looks like you’ve been summoned once again, Miss Cameron, to go save the world.”

Dolly’s face burned hot, but she rose from her chair and took the note. Ignoring Mrs. Field’s disapproval, Dolly read through the lines quickly. The immigration office had requested her presence. Ironically, the summons was a relief—an excuse to leave the mission home for a while and clear her head. She wished