“You’re very bold, Miss Pigot,” Dr. Scott says with some disapproval.
My stomach begins to quiver. I think of the orphans I care for and the women who depend on me for their livelihood. The ladies trying to understand why the devil tempted Jesus. Those women and girls depend on my strength, not my nerves. Dr. Scott is right. I am bold. I came all this way to state my case, and that’s what I’m going to do.
“I sit before you, a lone woman without a defender. I supervise a large female mission. If I’m not strong, I can’t educate my children, protect my staff, and keep my servants employed. It all depends on me, and through me, it all depends on you.” I slowly glance around the table, making sure to stop and look each man in the eye.
The questions continue for at least another hour, but with declining enthusiasm. I stand my ground. At last Dr. Scott knocks the table with his knuckle.
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