“No woman sets out to marry a drunkard,” Lizbeth said quietly from the hallway. It was well known in the house that Lizbeth’s father garnished her wages to feed his habit while her mother struggled to keep food in the house for all the siblings Lizbeth left behind.
That small declaration took the fight right out of Ethel and Mim. “No, I guess she doesn’t,” Mim said. “I’ll work on your reform clothes while you ladies are at the meeting.”
Briar followed Ethel to the parlor. “She might try to put lace on your bloomers,” Briar warned, attempting to reconcile. She did hate to see them being contentious with each other.
“Ha! She might.” Ethel laughed as they found seats. “But if anyone can figure out how to sew my trousers without turning my figure into a man’s, it’s Mim. If she does a good job, she’ll have extra work for as long as she needs it. So many of us are keen on having the proper clothing for exercise but aren’t sure about the pattern.”
“She only relented because she saw the bloomers in a magazine. If it’s not in Godey’s or Good Housekeeping, she’ll have none of it.”
The two shared a laugh while waiting for everyone to get settled.
The woman who had come to speak to them that night was Mrs. Sarah Tuttle. Briar didn’t know what she expected, a larger-than-life figure perhaps, but Mrs. Tuttle was average in every way: brown hair, brown eyes, average height. Her clothing didn’t call attention to herself, either. And she was married! The way the newspapers reported on suffragettes you’d think they were all single, angry, man-hating women.
Mrs. Tuttle continued to defy Briar’s expectations when she began speaking. Her voice was strong and clear, and she spoke with conviction. No wonder Ethel liked to come to these meetings.
“Thank you, mill women, for having me speak to you. What a wonderful effect has been caused by you operatives coming together en masse to live and work and educate yourselves. Much has changed since those early days, but we have much left to do. No one suspected back when Mr. Lowell built his first mill over in Massachusetts and invited rural farm girls to move to his boardinghouses that women’s lives would never be the same. For the first time, those industrious farm girls got paid for their work.”
Applause broke out across the room.
“They could take their paychecks, send some money home, put some in savings, and spend a little on themselves. They gained independence. They gained choices.”
More cheering.
“These weren’t silly or rebellious girls. They loved their families, but they wanted more opportunities. Many a girl put her brother through school with her earnings, and then as educational institutions opened up for women, she could go on to put herself through school, too.”
Briar joined in the applause.
“Even though we were getting paid, it was still less than what the men were getting paid. And then, management wanted us to work faster, and for less money. What was once freeing for women became shackles. You all know the song:
Oh! isn’t it a pity, such a pretty girl as I-
Should be sent to the factory to pine away and die?
Oh! I cannot be a slave,
I will not be a slave,
For I’m so fond of liberty
That I cannot be a slave.”
By the end of the song, the entire room had joined in; they all knew the words. They knew how those mills under Mr. Lowell had been better places to work than they were now. How he didn’t want his mills to be like those in England that Charles Dickens wrote sad tales about.
In fact, the first mill girls were proud when Mr. Dickens came to visit and pronounced them well dressed, healthy in appearance, well mannered, and none in need of rescuing from the mill. If Mr. Lowell hadn’t died so young, conditions may have stayed the same across all the mills, but they would never know.
“Thank those operatives before you for their efforts in bringing in the ten-hour workday. If it were not for them, you would still be standing at your machines toiling until dark.”
Murmurs spread around the room. Briar’s feet were sore enough after ten hours of standing.
“We’ve seen what can be done if we band together. We ladies possess a stronger power when we work together, and we need your help in attaining a voice for women everywhere. Already, we have school suffrage for women in twenty states, but not Vermont. School suffrage allows women to vote in school-board decisions that affect their children.
“Let’s make Vermont next. Know what you are fighting for. You must be educated. Search out a subject and ponder it. Believe you have something to say and a right to say it. Have an opinion, ladies, and express it winsomely.”
She pulled out a well-worn notebook and turned to a bookmarked page. “Listen to how Elizabeth Cady Stanton speaks to the assemblies on our behalf: