Cinders to Satin. Fern Michaels

will be prevented from making fools of themselves.”

      “Oh, come now, Byrch, I hardly think we’re fools. We merely acted on the report the committee members submitted,” Bridget said. “If you’re bent on discussing fools, I think you should first look to yourself and some of those hot-headed editorials you’re responsible for. If it were up to you, you’d feed and clothe every filthy immigrant who lands on these shores. Admit it!” Bridget demanded spitefully.

      “For the deserving, Bridget. Someone has to help them. These new organizations springing up all over the city need monitoring. The Irish especially seem to be the victims; of course, just the sheer numbers of them coming to America throws the balance in that direction. But I won’t forget that they’re my people, Bridget, just as much as they’re yours and Kevin’s. I didn’t say this Bleecker Street establishment was corrupt. I said I had my suspicions, and I agreed to check it out.”

      “And publish our names if we’ve been duped?”

      Byrch cocked an unruly brow at Bridget. “Do I take it you also have your suspicions? Besides, what better way to prevent you and others like you from making the same mistake twice? If donations were made intelligently, these scam artists would not assume that money was out there for the taking, and the interests of the poor would be better served. Surely you wouldn’t expect me to suppress my findings just so you won’t lose face among your friends?”

      “Of course not,” Bridget replied.

      “Then again,” Byrch added, “think what a heroine you could be if your name was linked with the exposure, if it proves necessary.”

      Bridget thought for an instant. Yes, she would like it very much. She’d never thought of herself as a heroine, but she had to admit it, it was a very appealing notion.