“I’m sorry. I don’t know why he would say that.” Briar was mortified. “I know you work hard. It’s just my bad frame started working better is all.” She searched the faces of the girls on the porch. They didn’t look convinced.
Briar sighed and went directly to her room to freshen up. She was hot and sweaty after cycling. The room was empty, so she splashed some water on her face then lay down for a rest before supper. She’d not had a restful time at the cottage, nor a welcome greeting back at the boardinghouse.
When she came down to eat, there was a hush in the dining room, followed by more quiet whispers and looks directed her way. Ethel squeezed her hand encouragingly, and Mim gave her a wink. Their support was just enough to see her through until she could go back to the room.
Later, she asked her room-mates upstairs, “Why are they so angry with me? I didn’t lower their wages.”
“They’re not angry at you exactly, they’re frustrated that our wages were cut again and we have no recourse.” Ethel paced between the beds. “Where else are we going to work? The next mill over? They offer the same wage. Our working conditions keep getting worse and worse, our pay lower and lower, and our rents, paid back to the mills, are staying the same. We’re going to have to walk out to get their attention.”
“For once I agree with Ethel,” said Mim, blocking Ethel’s path to stop her pacing. “The other operatives will forget about it by morning. Don’t you worry.”
“But what about our wages?” asked Ethel, hands on hips. “Do you finally agree with me that we’re getting a bad deal?”
“Of course I do, I’m just not as loud about it,” retorted Mim. “But the bosses are going to do what they’re going to do. They can pay us more, but then have to fire some of us to make up the difference. Is that what you want?”
“If you believe what they’re telling us. I still see the agent driving up in his new buggy, wearing his fine tailored clothes. They used to treat us operatives better. Like Mrs. Tuttle said about Charles Dickens’s report on the Lowell girls. He said conditions weren’t like those in the factories in England, but here and now we are already halfway to workhouse conditions like those in Oliver Twist.”
And with that, Briar’s troubles with the other operatives were forgotten as more and more girls wandered in to watch Ethel and Mim go at it. There were operatives sitting on the beds, the floor, and spilling out the hallway. At the bell, they all cleared out, not having solved anyone’s problems, but feeling better for letting off steam.
“That was exciting,” said Sadie, squeezing her way back in. “Couldn’t even get into my own room.”
Briar hoped everyone had put their anger back on the company and off her. She’d quietly go about her business, keeping her frames running as best she could and staying away from the spindle until she turned seventeen. She didn’t want to be the focus of anyone’s attention anymore. Not the other operatives, nor the overseer or agent. She hoped the girls wouldn’t walk out until after she and Fanny had figured out how to get rid of the spindle. She didn’t want to have to choose between supporting the operatives and keeping her job so she could protect everyone from a cursed spindle.
The next morning, Briar tried to leave by herself again, but Sadie also woke up early, and followed her all the way to the mill, asking questions about Ethel and Mim, and finally getting around to the real questions she wanted to know.
Twisting her fingers nervously, she asked, “Do you think Wheeler’s parents would accept a girl who’s not Irish? I haven’t met them yet, even though they live right here in town. He keeps telling me he is waiting for the right moment to invite me over.”
Briar stood up from resetting the builder on frame number one. She was surprised Wheeler hadn’t had her to their home yet. Briar had been invited right from the start. She hid a smile as she answered. “His parents are very nice. His da plays a mean fiddle, so as long as you tap your feet, you’ll win him over.”
“And his mother?”
Briar walked over to frame number two and checked the lines of thread. “She is a little more particular.”
“That’s what I was afraid of.” Sadie kept walking past frame number three until she was in line with number four. “Mmmm, smells like apples over here, Briar. How do you get your area to smell so good? Mine stinks like machine oil. Can’t get the smell out of my hair, even. Girls, come here. Briar’s hidden an apple pie on us.”
Briar looked up to see the morning rush of girls coming in to set up their frames.
“I haven’t hidden any pie. My area doesn’t smell any different from yours.” Leave it be, Sadie.
Annie and several others started walking over, and Briar began to panic. She didn’t need all the girls coming over and making a fuss about her frame, even if they were all older than seventeen and the spindle posed no risk for them. “A summer breeze must be slipping through the cracks or something.” She tried to shoo the others away.