“Incidentally,” I said before he could formulate another question, “are you opposed to my being away from the house overnight? My friend has asked me to stay with her Saturday. We’re working on a charity project Sunday morning, and we need an early start.” I gave him a conspiratorial smile and added, “And I think she wants to talk about her young man before she sees him again.”

“What sort of charity project is it?”

“She works with children in the tenements. She and some friends are preparing a Sunday lunch for them.”

“What an excellent endeavor!” I feared for a moment that he would ask if he could come along, but he merely said, “Of course you may go. Your time is yours outside the usual school hours and any other events where your presence is required.”

“Thank you, sir,” I said, returning my hands to the keyboard in what I hoped he would take as a signal that I still needed to think.

He reached into his breast pocket, pulled out a wallet, and took out several bills. “My contribution to your charity,” he said, placing them on top of the piano.

“That’s very generous of you, sir,” I said, so touched that I felt guilty for not telling him the complete truth about the project.

He blushed a little as he glanced downward and said, “Get the children a good lunch and some treats,” before leaving.

*   *   *

Saturday afternoon, I packed some overnight things in my bag, hiding Lizzie’s notebook and the Mechanics’ insignia at the bottom.

As she’d promised in her letter, Lizzie was waiting for me at the nearest bus stop. “What’s wrong?” she asked when she saw me.

I hadn’t realized my emotions were so evident. “I’m worried,” I admitted. “I can’t believe you’re planning to do something so mad.”

“Did you come to help us or to talk us out of it?”

“To be honest? Talk you out of it, if I can.”

“Oh, Verity, there’s nothing to worry about. We know what we’re doing.” That didn’t reassure me much, but I didn’t turn back.

We took the bus to the same part of town where we’d gone the night of the party. Lizzie led me through the bustling streets to a narrow redbrick town house that was a relic of the time when this neighborhood was fashionable. Now the paint on the black shutters and the white front door was peeling, and posters with the Rebel Mechanics’ symbol were pasted to the brick walls. She opened the front door, and we entered a foyer with a scuffed wooden floor. I got a glimpse of a shabbily genteel parlor before Lizzie led me up the stairs.