Spindle(23)

She withered inside. If this lesson was long, they’d all miss dinner.

Once everyone had gathered, the overseer cleared his throat and spoke in a high, grating voice. “This operative is working at her lowest capacity. Her head is filled with silly notions of love.” He ripped down the poem attached to her frame and held it up as evidence.

Briar looked at her feet.

The offending poem by Rosalie M. Janas was awfully sentimental and romantic, especially under the scrutiny of the new overseer. It was about a love being meant to be. At least, that was how Briar interpreted it. Youth who flirted with love thinking it was blind and wouldn’t catch them missed that love was watching and waiting for the right moment to strike. She thought of Henry kissing her hand and her face warmed.

The overseer read the poem aloud in a mocking tone:

Rondeau

Love is not blind. Ah, no! Ah, no!

He only hides his eyes to show

A sweet unguarded mouth left free

To tempt his victims, while with glee

He works them thus confusion—woe.

For, sure as fate, rash youth will go

Too near that lovely Cupid’s bow,

And none dare warn him, “Love can see!”

“Love is not blind!”

Then peeping stealthily below

His bandage, with sure aim and slow,

Love points his darts, and, one! two! three!

Straight to the heart of youth they flee And never miss their mark. Ah, no!

Love is not blind.

The poem seemed pathetic and not romantic at all, as read by him. He crumbled the paper and let it drop to the floor with the bits of cotton to be swept up at the end of the day. He then strode about the room ripping down the bits of poetry and articles the operatives had posted. “We will have no more of this. I’m here to ensure this room increases production no matter what.” He threw the crumpled scraps in the air. “Go!”

The operatives scurried for the door.

“Thanks, Briar,” someone whispered as she hurried by.

It wasn’t my fault. Their previous overseer hadn’t had any problems with them tacking up poems. Briar glanced back at the new overseer, his eyes hidden behind tinted glasses. She had a suspicion there would be more unwelcome changes to come.





Chapter Twelve



Briar passed several girls already coming down the porch steps as she arrived at the boardinghouse for dinner. Mim and Ethel were waiting for her in the dining room, having prepared a plate for her.

“What happened?” asked Mim.

“New overseer, and my frame pretty much exploded in front of him. Then he made an example out of me and tore down all our articles as frivolity.” Briar gobbled up her sausage and potatoes.

Ethel crossed her arms. “This is just the thing I was talking about, Mim. You’ll hear all about it at the meeting. We are treated terribly with no recourse. If we had women overseers, perhaps something like this wouldn’t happen.”

Mim turned her back slightly on Ethel. “You’ve got to get it together if you want to move on to Burlington. I heard your new overseer is here to pick out the best girls to train the others.”

Briar didn’t have time to think one way or the other on Burlington. The more pressing issues right now were her bad frame and the new overseer. She’d had so much downtime lately her pay would be docked, and surely the new overseer must think she was incompetent and therefore not deserving of an extra frame.

“I don’t know how I can win anyone’s favor if I’m stuck with that bad spinning frame.”

“Are you sure there’s not something you’re doing to it?” Mim asked.

Briar huffed. “Of course not. I’m running three other successful frames, aren’t I? No, it’s that frame. Something’s wrong with it. It’s got a bad spindle.” She paused. A bad spindle. The peddler had suggested she put the fairy wood spindle in her frame. If only the answer were that easy. “Henry always managed to keep it going, but ever since he left it’s gotten worse.”

“Henry? Haven’t heard you mention that name in a while.”

Mim’s tone rankled Briar, so she retorted, “Haven’t heard you mention Pierre much in a while, either.” Pierre had been the latest beau, but he’d stopped coming around.

Mim closed her mouth and stood. The air between them was stretched with tension.

Miss Olive stood at the door, hands on hips and shaking her head as everyone left the house. “What has gotten into you all?” she asked. “Snippy, every one of you. Mim, Ethel, Briar, and Sadie, please come see me in the kitchen. I won’t keep you long. Briar, you can bring your plate.”

Briar checked with her room-mates to see if they knew what Miss Olive wanted them for, but they shrugged and followed the keeper down the hallway. Maybe Sadie issued a complaint against us? Did she hear Mim talk about Wheeler and me one too many times?

With a sick stomach, Briar followed the others into the kitchen where they all cast trepidatious looks at one another and the clock.

Miss Olive bustled about with empty platters. “Sorry, girls, I know you don’t have much time, but I’ve got a new boarder arriving any minute and I need to be ready for her. A space opened up for Ania at her friends’ place, so she is moving out tonight. Sadie, I know you wanted a change from your bedroom—the snoring and all that—so do you want Ania’s place with these girls here?” She turned her back to lift the boiling water off the stove and pour it into her wash basin for the dishes.