Bread and Roses, Too by Katherine Paterson Read Free Book Online Page B

hungry, Miss Finch." Rosa nearly whispered the words, but the teacher had heard her. She could see Miss Finch's eyes blink, and she began to fiddle with a pencil she held.
    "You know what Mr. Wood said. The mills can't afford to pay wages for fifty-six hours' work when they're only getting fifty-four."
    Something stiffened inside of Rosa. "But he got five houses."
    "He
has
five houses."
    "Yes, ma'am. And so many automobiles he can't count them."
    Miss Finch jerked her head. Her cheeks reddened. "I think that was meant as a jest. Nonetheless. Your parents are breaking the law."
    "My papa is dead."
    "Yes, you said. I'm sorry. Truly. But whoever in your household is taking part in this wretched business needs to be warned off. Do they realize that Joseph Ettor is an anarchist? That means, Rosa, that he doesn't believe either in God or the law. He's"—she lowered her voice and her head and said, almost in a whisper—"he's a
Marxist."
    "Father Milanese says we have the right to ask for a living wage."
    Miss Finch sniffed. "Father Milanese is not in line with the rest of the religious leaders of this city, all of whom have denounced the strike as godless and lawless. Isn't he Italian?"
    "Yes, ma'am."
    "There, you see. I'm sure your bishop will soon set him straight."
    There was no need to remind Miss Finch that she, Rosa, was also Italian, as was her entire family. Despite the two strikes against her—that she was both Catholic and Italian—Miss Finch had always encouraged her.
    "Well, I had hopes for you, Rosa." She walked away and put the pencil down on the desk, expecting, perhaps, that Rosa would disappear.
    "Please, ma'am. I want to learn. You said I should make something of myself."
    The teacher came back and put her hand gently on Rosa's shoulder. "Yes, I did. I'm just—I'm just afraid for you, Rosa, dear. There are so many obstacles...."
    "Yes, ma'am."
    "Try to persuade your mother not to strike, won't you? It's a terrible mistake. Those outside agitators ... They can't be trusted."
    "He said no violence. That's what he told everybody."
    "Who said that?"
    "Mr. Ettor."
    Miss Finch's hand went from Rosa's shoulder to her own throat. "He's the worst. Rosa, you mustn't believe anything he says. He doesn't care for the mills or the workers here in Lawrence. He is only after power for himself. There'll be terrible violence. He'll do awful things and try to blame others. People will get killed. You'll see."
    Rosa left the school. She should have run, there was so little time before the afternoon session, but the streets were too crowded for her to run properly, and, besides, she needed to think. Could Miss Finch be right? Could the man Mamma and Anna and all the workers were following be only after power for himself? A boy had been stabbed this morning. But it was the militia who had done it, not the workers. Unless ... unless Miss Finch was right. Unless Joe Ettor would try to blame the police and the militia for things his own followers had done. Rosa shook her head to try to clear it. Everything was too confusing. Whom could she believe? It was a messy, terrible business. She wanted her mother and sister out of it no matter who was right and who was wrong. It was just too dangerous. Suppose they got killed and she was left alone with only little Ricci? They'd starve for sure—if they didn't freeze first.

The Return of Rosa's Rat
    Rosa went back to school on Tuesday. What else was she to do? Mamma and Anna and the Jarusalises were so involved in the strike that they were always out, meeting, picketing, or marching. She'd tried to convince them how dangerous it was until she was hoarse, but Mamma just patted her on the head and went out the door. Granny J. was busy with her grandsons, Jonas and Kestutis, and little Ricci, and Rosa couldn't talk to her anyway.
    The big news at school was that Joe o'Brien had been arrested. "Arrested?" Rosa said. "Why?"
    "Oh, he wanted to be a big shot. He went down to the picket line, where