It Happened at the Fair (8 page)

Vaughn tucked a thumb into a pocket on his vest. “Well, I’ll tll uwht eyd do.”

“I’m sorry?”

Vaughn smiled. “It’s ld as the dckns in hr, isn’t it?”

Cullen nodded, having no idea what he’d just confirmed.

Vaughn pointed to the door closest to them. “Lts go otsd.”

Cullen followed Vaughn to the side door. The noise level dropped dramatically the moment they stepped out, but Cullen’s ears continued to ring.

“It’s abbuva in there,” Vaughn said. “I don’t know how they expect us to conduct business, do you?”

“No, sir.” He stuck a finger in his right ear, trying to open it up, but of course it did no good. “My ears are ringing fit to be tied. I’m still having trouble hearing you, even out here.”

“Well you’d better figure smthng out, son.” Vaughn drew down his eyebrows—the only bit of brown hair he had left. “One of my board mmbrs saw your display last week and asked me to speak to you. We’re looking to pick up more policyholders. And you’re looking to sell sprinklers. What if the two of us did a bit of back-scratching?”

“In what way?”

“The board is toying with the idea of offering reduced fire insurance premiums to anyone who buys your sprnklr.”

“What kind of discounts did you have in mind?”

“We haven’t decided. But if you sell a lot and they do well, we’ll encourage our current policyholders to purchase the system too.”

Like a fisherman who felt a gentle tug on his line, a rush of energy with a good dose of skepticism put him on alert. “That’d be wonderful, sir.”

“How mny have you sold so far?”

Keeping his face free of expression, Cullen held his line steady, recognizing a precarious hold when he had one. “None so far.”

Vaughn tapped his cane. “You need to get bsnss owners and mill owners interested. That noise in there is a problem, though.”

Cullen gave the man a wry smile. “The fellow in the booth next to mine said us exhibitors ought to go over to the Woman’s Building and have those teachers of the deaf show us how to lip-read.”

Instead of laughing, as Cullen had expected, Vaughn straightened, eyes widening. “That’s not a bad idea. You know, McNamara, you ought to do just that.”

“Oh no, sir. I was merely joking. I couldn’t possibly—”

“I’m serious.” Grasping Cullen’s arm, Vaughn guided him toward the South Canal, where a replica of Central Park’s obelisk sat. “Don’t you see? You’d have a leg up on everyone else. While they can hear only every fourth or ffth word, you’d be able to ‘hear’ them all.”

OBELISK OUTSIDE MACHINERY HALL

“Well, maybe, but what about the men I’m speaking with? How are they going to hear me?”

“They won’t need to. Between the dsply you have that shows a behind-the-wall look at your system and the in-depth signs explaining the functions of each piece, well, all you’d have to do is point and demonstrate.”

The two of them stopped in front of the obelisk, its Egyptian hieroglyphics faithfully duplicating Cleopatra’s Needle in New York. If Cullen had been able to lip-read, he’d have been able to answer the cotton man’s questions and would most likely have made a sale. Still, lip-reading lessons would cost money. Money he didn’t have.

Slipping a finger behind his collar, he loosened it a bit. “Sir, I just don’t see how I could do as you suggest. How would I have the time? I can’t be sitting in a classroom with deaf children and simultaneously be here selling my sprinkler.”

Vaughn placed both hands on his cane. “No, I don’t suppose you could. And you’d look rduloos sitting in there with all those children.”

The gentle lapping of the canal blended with the murmur of those around them. A rolling chair guided by a uniformed man in blue whizzed past them, zigzagging in and out of the crowd.

“What about after supper?” Vaughn asked.

“What about it?”

“The teacher could tutor you in the evenings.”

Cullen shook his head. “I’d have to leave my post.”

“No one’s going to come looking for business deals after supper. Evenings in the park will be filled with sightseers and yung lovers. It would be the perfect time.”

Suppressing the urge to argue, he decided instead to confess his main concern. “I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to pay her what she’s worth.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll think of something—an innovative man like you.” Vaughn waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “No one said the road to sccss was easy.”

A tiny bead of sweat sprang out along Cullen’s hairline. He wasn’t innovative. He was a farmer. A farmer from North Carolina who had no business being here. But he couldn’t say that to Vaughn, not when his offer would sweeten the pot for potential customers.

Vaughn lifted a brow. “I’d say my proposition is wrth it, wouldn’t you?”

Cullen found himself nodding. Earning his dad’s money back was worth it. Worth whatever was required of him.

“Excllnt.” Vaughn popped open his pocket watch. “You’d best head over there now. The school day’s almost complete, and you’ll want to catch one of the teachers before they all leave.”

Ignoring the tightness in his chest, he shook the man’s hand. “I’ll get right on it, sir.”

KITCHEN GARDEN IN THE CHILDREN’S BUILDING

“ ‘This is our Kitchen Garden,’ the woman said. ‘It is devoted to teaching little girls how to become good housewives.’ ”

CHAPTER

7

It had been another day for goose chasing. The deaf school wasn’t in the Woman’s Building but in the Children’s Building. And of all the attractions at the fair, Cullen couldn’t think of any other he’d rather skip more than the Children’s Building. What possible interest would he have in looking in on a bunch of kiddies whose parents had checked them at the door?

Joining a small group of visitors, he followed a middle-aged tour guide in severe black who droned on about pink medallions decorating the wall and a life-size mural of Silver Hair and the Three Bears. The guide was exactly the kind of woman who’d placed him in the corner of a schoolroom for hours at a time before his mother had taken over his schooling.

He sighed, wondering if stiff expressions and a steady monotone were prerequisites for all teachers. He certainly didn’t fancy having to spend hours of his free time with one. At least he wouldn’t have to put up with any mocking, whipping, or corner sitting.

The guide led them to a room in the southwest corner of the building. “This is our Kitchen Garden. It is devoted to teaching little girls how to bcm good housewives.”

With a name like “Kitchen Garden,” he’d expected plants, pots, and topsoil. Instead, forty or so girls in spotless pinafores occupied themselves with house chores. Some swept the room with miniature brooms. Others crawled on hands and knees, scrubbing the floor. Several bent over tiny washtubs in an effort to make dirty little dolls look white as snow.

KITCHEN GARDEN IN CHILDREN'S BUILDING

“Now make sure the hems are turned the crrct way.” A woman wearing a frilly apron and cap walked down a line of pint-sized mussed-up beds.

Little girls turned the mattresses and punched them into a degree of softness, then spread pristine sheets and bright blankets on top. The tucking-in process showed they’d been well taught. Not a one made a hasty boardinghouse tuck but instead produced corners exactly like Alice’s.

His guided group continued on, passing through a noisy kindergarten class for young children, a playroom for school-age children, and a wood-carving class for the older ones. In the library, the guide boasted that nearly every volume had been autographed. Stockton, Kipling, Longfellow, Alcott. He noted, however, that Billy Butts the Boy Detective had been left out of the collection.

WOOD CARVING CLASS IN CHILDREN’S BUILDING

Finally, they arrived at the deaf school. The guide stopped outside the door, pinched her lips, and waited for stragglers to catch up.

When all had gathered, she folded her hands. “Behind these doors is a dmnstrtn of the Pennsylvania Home for the Training in Speech of Deaf Children Before They Are of School Age.”

Cullen blinked. Was that the name of their school? What idiocy. Some woman obviously thought that up.

“The entire school of twenty pupils picked up and moved from Philadelphia to Chcago for the duration of the fair so that people could see firsthand the important work being done. The emphasis of their program is to teach the deaf to speak and lip-read through observing and imitating the process of vocalization. It is the school’s ffmm belief that if these children are treated the same as hearing chldrn and they are surrounded with hearing and speaking only—no sign language—then when they are grown, they will function in society as equals and no one will ever know they are deaf.”

Cullen stilled. Was that true? Could a person learn to lip-read so proficiently that he could lose his hearing and no one would be the wiser?

Looking at the doors leading to the classroom, he reminded himself that even if the woman inside was the worst kind of tyrant, he needed to stick it out anyway. For the sake of earning that money back, if nothing else.

“You are lucky,” the guide said, “for the teacher you are about to see is the very best. She ggdduuaadd first in her class from Alexander Graham Bell’s School of Oratory and received a personal recommendation from him.”