Read Unwritten Books 3 - The Young City for Free Online

College.”
    Rosemary set down her spoon. “You’re going to be the first woman doctor in Canada!”
    Faith’s smile widened. “Hardly the first, my dear! I do not have the strength to change the world, but I do have the wit to follow the path cleared by Miss Stowe and Miss Trout.”
    Edmund leaned toward Peter and gave him a conspiratorial grin. “You see my sister’s stubborn streak? Such passion about becoming a doctor! Stay off the subject, my lad, or she’ll go on about the vote, next.”
    “And why should I not have the vote?” Faith thundered. “I voted in the civic election this year. Did the Dominion fall to its knees?”
    “That’s different,” Edmund cut in. “That was just a civic election. You didn’t have to trouble yourself about affairs of state.”
    “Affairs of state?” Faith’s nostrils flared. “Affairs of this state can be left to a souse because he is a man? It would do this nation good if landless women
could
vote. Then, perhaps, we could pass temperance and our prime minister might sober up enough to give affairs of state the attention they deserve!”
    Edmund was about to continue, but Rosemary cleared her throat. “Aren’t your dinners getting cold?”
    The siblings stared at their stews. Edmund chuckled, got up, and began clearing away the dishes.
    “I apologize for my brother,” said Faith. “He likes to antagonize me, though not usually before guests.” Sheshot Edmund a glare, but he kept his back to her.
    Rosemary grinned. “When I fought with my brother, it was with pillows.”

     
    Lighting the way with a kerosene lamp, Faith led Peter and Rosemary up the stairs from the kitchen. “I’m afraid you will find the apartment small,” she said, “but it has its own tub and stove, and a bed.”
    “Thank you so much,” said Rosemary. She carried her own kerosene lamp and rubbed her eyes with her free hand. “It’ll be wonderful to sleep in a bed. I could sleep on the floor.”
    Two doors fronted onto the landing. They glowed brown in the guttering light. Faith produced a key and unlocked the door closest to the back, above the kitchen. She handed the key to Rosemary. “Here you are. The other room is mine. We’re separated by closets, so you won’t hear me talk in my sleep.”
    “I don’t think that will be a problem.” Peter drooped by the banister rail.
    “I’ll retire myself,” said Faith. “I have to arrive early to register for my new classes. Good night!” She turned down the short hall, closing her bedroom door behind her.
    Rosemary led the way into the apartment. There, she stopped dead. Peter bumped in behind her.
    Faith wasn’t kidding: the apartment was small — one room — and it was bare. A metal tub sat in a corner by a window. A small table held a washbasin, and a single throw rug covered a small square of floor.
    The centrepiece of the room was the bed: singular, narrow, laden with quilts, and jutting from the wall into the middle of the room.
    “Huh,” said Rosemary at last. She closed the door behind them and began undoing the buttons on her dress. “I’m turning in.”
    Peter stared at her, then strode to the window. “Gee, that’s a lot of stars!”
    Rosemary threw the corset into the corner with a thump. She breathed deep and rubbed her sides. She blew out the kerosene lamp, leaving the room bathed in the little moonlight that was coming through the window, and slipped beneath the covers. Wearing a camisole and bloomers, she felt more dressed than on a day at school. “Night, Peter.”
    “Good night.”
    Rosemary took a deep breath. Then she became aware of the silence in the room, and looked up.
    She could hardly see in the dark, but she could sense Peter standing, facing her. Then, taking a deep breath, he turned and stepped to the other side of the room. She heard him stripping down to underpants and undershirt, folding his clothes, and draping them over a straight-backed chair. Then he came over,socks scuffing the