The Boston Girl Read Online Free PDF

without a squirming child waking her up.
    Filomena left school when she was twelve and went to work sewing in a factory. A few years later, she started going to the Salem Street Settlement House on Saturdays. “I told Mimi that I wanted to improve my English,” she said, “but really it was just to have a little time when I wasn’t at work or taking care of someone’s baby.” Miss Chevalier noticed her sketching in the library when she was supposed to be reading, “But instead of yelling at me, she took me to meet Miss Green. And here I am.”
    Not so different from my story, right?
    Miss Green sent her to the Museum School for a drawing class. “I owe her everything,” Filomena said. “She taught me pottery and design and gives me art books to look at. She says that being an artist is more than a job or a skill; it’s a way of walking through the world.”
    I didn’t understand what that meant until a few days later, when we went to the Headlands, which Miss Holbrooke said was the most beautiful view on Cape Ann.
    Irene rolled her eyes. “Stone soup, anyone?”
    But Miss Holbrooke was right about the Headlands. It’s a special place—up high, maybe a hundred feet above the sea, with water on three sides.
    You know where I’m talking about, right, Ava? It’s the place I always bring people who’ve never been to Cape Ann. You can see for miles up and down the coast. It’s got a nice view of the boats in Rockport Harbor and most of the town, too. The first time I saw all those white clapboard houses and the church steeple I thought about how much I owed to Paul Revere for getting me there.
    Miss Holbrooke called it picturesque and I knew exactly what she meant without having to look it up. It was like one of those tinted picture postcards: a perfect blue sky and fluffy white clouds, sailboats, and even a few ladies with parasols.
    The lodge girls scattered around to pick flowers or sit on the rocks and talk. Rose and Irene climbed halfway down the bluff, which almost gave Miss Holbrooke a heart attack. Filomena went off by herself to draw, but I tiptoed over and peeked at her sketchpad.
    She was drawing the pile of rocks in front of her, which seemed like a dull subject. But when I looked again, I saw she had made the same shapes into a woman’s body, lying on her side, completely naked. I’d probably never seen a nude picture before and I must have gasped. Filomena turned around and held it up so I had a better view. “What do you think?”
    Before I could answer, Miss Holbrooke came running toward us, yoo-hooing for Filomena to come with her. Two ladies had set up easels to do watercolors of the harbor. “You should meet them; they are painting the most charming little harbor scenes.”
    Filomena wrinkled her nose. “Miss Green says ‘charming’ is a trap that women artists should avoid at all costs.”
    Miss Holbrooke said, “These ladies are very accomplished, I assure you.”
    Filomena stared her in the eye and said, “Miss Edith Green is an instructor at the School of the Museum of Fine Arts and she is the one who told me to focus all my attention on drawing this week. I’m sure you agree I should take her assignment seriously.”
    Miss Holbrooke couldn’t say no to that and walked away with her tail between her legs.
    “Did Miss Green really say that?” I asked.
    Filomena laughed. “She could have. Edith Green thinks everything rests on drawing. You can see it in the designs on the pottery.”
    “I like the way you do the trees,” I said. “It’s just a few lines but they seem alive.”
    “That’s exactly right,” Filomena said. “You have a good eye.”
    That was a compliment I never forgot—obviously.
    Toward the end of the week, Filomena switched tables and joined the Mixed Nuts. Gussie teased her and asked if she’d gotten kicked out of the Italian club for hanging around so much with the Jews and the Irish.
    “I just need to talk about something besides weddings,”