Hot air shimmered through the room, but the three of them still wore their heavy velvet coats. Rich men sure was vain.
“Let’s hear it then, Tom,” Mr. Franklin and thumped his cane.
Mr. Jefferson stood and spoke so soft that Mr. Franklin had to lean close. “When in the course of human events, it becomes necessary—“
“Damn it, Tom, get to the point!” Mr. Adams shoved the pile of papers before him.
Mr. Franklin smiled. “Now, John.” She loved that wicked twinkle in his eyes.
“Call the king a tyrant and get on with it!” Mr. Adams said.
Mr. Jefferson sighed. “I’m trying to do that, John.”
“Let us hear what else you have!”
“We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal.”
“Genius,” Mr. Franklin said. “Pure genius.”
Old Martha closed the door. Her back ached something fierce, and gritty sweat coated her skin. Later, she’d come back to tidy up this room. She still had other floors to mop and rooms to dust. Shuffling down the hall, she wondered why only the men was created equal.