Katie Robertson Part 2

Eric and Alfred met their sister just outside of the door, and the three were soon at home, Katie talking so much and so fast all the way, that her brothers, as they said, "could hardly get in a word edgewise." Many of the mill operatives carried their dinner with them and spent the noon hour in gossip with each other, but Mrs. Robertson was careful both of the bodies and souls of her children. She knew that the former would be much more vigorous if every day they had a warm, comfortable, if frugal, meal at noontide, and thought that the latter would be kept pure and unsullied much longer if not exposed to the kind of talk apt to pa.s.s between idle men and women of all grades and a.s.sociations in society. So ever since they first went into the bindery, the boys had regularly come home to dinner, and were much the better, not only for it, but also for the quick walk in the open fresh air.

Poor Mrs. Robertson had pa.s.sed a lonely morning. She was used to being alone while her daughter was at school, but that was different; she had conjured up all sorts of dangers and disagreeables that the girl might have to encounter, and she rather expected to see her brought in on a board bruised and maimed from some part of the machinery into which she had fallen or been entangled. But when Katie came rus.h.i.+ng in like a whirlwind, in high spirits, with glowing cheeks and a splendid appet.i.te, which yet she could scarcely take time to gratify, so full was she of enthusiastic talk concerning the beauty and grandeur of the mill and the kindness of Mr. James, her mother felt rather ashamed of her forebodings.

Never had a dinner tasted so nicely; never had the little girl, to her remembrance, eaten so much. She was in such a hurry to be off again, so as not to be late, that the boys declared she would not give them any time to eat at all, and again predicted that in a month's time things would not be so rose-colored.

In the afternoon a surprise awaited the little factory-girl. Hardly had work recommenced as the silence of voices and the noise of machinery followed upon the long steam-whistle, than Mr. James again appeared, followed by another "new hand." She was a tall, stout girl; in reality just about Katie's age, but looking several years older, dressed in a light-blue cashmere, considerably soiled and frayed. Her hair, which was "banged" low over her forehead, was braided in a long tail behind, and tied with a bunch of tumbled red ribbons, and around her neck was a chain and locket intended to resemble gold. The girls all looked at her inappropriate costume, most of them with envy and admiration, a few with pity for a girl who knew no better than to come to factory work in so very unsuitable a dress, and Katie looked up in some surprise to find that the new comer, who had been placed next to her, was her old school companion, Bertie Sanderson.

Miss Peters came forward pleasantly, showed the new girl how to do her work just as she had showed Katie in the morning, and glancing at her dress, suggested that another time a similar protection to that of her companion would be advisable, and then left her to herself.

Scarcely was her back turned than Bertie, looking round the room with great disgust, turned to Katie and said:--

"Isn't it hateful? Just think of _us_ made to work among factory-girls.

I don't see what my father could have been thinking of!"

Katie made no answer, but pointed to Miss Peters, and then to the rule for silence which was hung up conspicuously on the wall.

"Nonsense!" said Bertie, "that don't mean me. I'm daughter of Mr Sanderson, the overseer of the bindery, don't you know? It's kind of funny that I should be in the rag-room among all the common girls, anyhow; but father said I'd got to begin work, and he guessed what wouldn't hurt you wouldn't hurt me. But for the thought that you were here I wouldn't have come at all, no matter what pa said. Ma don't think it genteel. I don't see what made you come; don't you think it's disgusting?"

"No," said Katie, "I wanted to come, and I think the factory is magnificent; besides, I want the money."

"So do I," said the other, "and pa said I should have all I earn till there's enough to get a silk dress. I do want a silk dress so, don't you?"

"No," said Katie, "I don't care;" but at this moment Miss Peters came toward them, saying,--

"No talking, girls; you are new hands, or I should have to fine you; every time a girl speaks it's a penny off of her day's wages, but I'll let you off this time. Bertie, you haven't done a thing yet."

Katie blushed, for though she had not stopped work a single moment, she had been tempted by her companion into breaking the rules; but Bertie looked up insolently at the superintendent as she slowly took up some of the rags, and muttered in a low tone, which was heard by most of her neighbors:--

"Who's going to mind you? You're only a servant-girl, anyway;" for Miss Peters had, in her early life, "lived out."

Whether Miss Peters heard or not Katie could not be sure, but she thought she saw a heightened color in the young woman's face, and was just going to ask her companion how she could be guilty of such rudeness, when she remembered the rule in time, checked herself, and put her finger significantly on her lips.

As to Bertie, she stared round the room, working a little now and then, and talking aloud to herself as she could get no one to talk to her.

Miss Peters was very indignant; but thought it best to take no notice just yet; for, as the girl had said, she was Mr. Sanderson's daughter, and she did not know just how far it would do to enforce rules in her case.

The girls in the rag-room were dismissed at five o'clock, so, as the bindery did not close till six, Katie did not have the company of her brothers on her homeward walk, Bertie taking their place, and talking all the way about the indignity of working in a factory and the hards.h.i.+p of having to work at all. She told about her cousins in the city, who were quite fine ladies, according to Bertie's account, doing nothing but play on the piano and do fancy-work. They were coming with their mother to make a visit in the summer, and how ashamed she should be to appear before them in the character of a paper-mill girl. The girl talked about her father in anything but a respectful manner, but seemed to find comfort in the thought of her silk dress. She had never had one yet, and it had long been the goal of her ambition. What color did Katie think would be becoming to her? How would she have it made? how trimmed?

"I'll tell you what, Katie," she said, "let's take our money when we get it and get silks exactly alike; then we can wear them to Sunday-school together, and the other girls will see that it isn't so mean to be factory-girls after all. Even Miss Mountjoy herself can wear nothing finer than silk, if she does always look so stuck up."

But Katie failed to be infected with a desire for a silk dress. She had never worn anything but the plainest and poorest clothes, though they had always been whole, clean, and neatly made; her temptations did not lie in that line. She had insisted on beginning to work in order to help her mother support the family, and to make it a little easier for them all to get along. She admired pretty things, of course, as all girls do, but she had an intuitive feeling that Sunday-school was not the place in which to show off fine clothes. Bertie's chatter did not please her, and though they were old friends, or rather companions, having been to both school and Sunday-school together for some years, she was glad when they parted at the corner house, which had once been the doctor's, and she could go home to her mother.

For the little girl was tired by this time; she had got up much earlier than usual and had been on her feet all day, and besides the reaction of so much excitement, even though it had been of a pleasurable nature, was calculated to produce depression. Her mother was out when she got home, and there was n.o.body to welcome her but the gray cat, which did so, however, with the loudest of purrings, and the lounge in the warm room looked so comfortable that the tired little worker took p.u.s.s.y in her arms, lay down there, and began to think. She was not quite satisfied with her "first day." The factory was quite as nice as she had expected, and Mr. James was nicer; but had she remembered "in _all_ her ways to acknowledge G.o.d" and "to do all to his glory"? She was afraid not; she had broken the rules once, and had listened to Bertie's chatter, while a desire had arisen in her heart, not for a silk dress, but for plenty of money, for a fine home, for a piano, and all the things that some girls had, and she had been tempted to think it hard that some people should have so much and some so little. Was G.o.d quite just to let it be so?

But, as she lay upon the lounge, rested by its soft cus.h.i.+ons, warmed by the fire, and soothed by the purring of the cat, she began to be ashamed of such thoughts. How many comforts, how much happiness G.o.d had given her! A nice home, a loving mother, plenty to eat and wear, and health and strength to earn enough to make them all so much more comfortable.

She knew that all good things come from G.o.d, and if he had not put it into the heart of Mr. Sanderson to speak to Mr. Mountjoy for her, she could not have got the situation in the mill. The forty cents she had earned to-day was directly G.o.d's gift, and so would be all the money that ever came to her in the future. She ought to be a very thankful little girl, and she was quite ashamed of her questionings. So she dropped down upon her knees by the lounge, and asked G.o.d to forgive her for the sake of Jesus, and lying down again soon fell fast asleep.

When she awoke it was dark; the boys had come home; her mother had come in so quietly as not to awaken her daughter, tea was quite ready, and it was a very pleasant scene that her eyes, now entirely rested, opened upon, and a very happy, thankful little girl came to the table to eat the nice supper which awaited her.

After tea she and her brothers played games for some time; then Mrs.

Robertson took her mending-basket, which was always very full, and Katie got her thimble and helped, while Eric read aloud from a book of "Stories from History." And so closed the first day of Katie Robertson's "factory life."

CHAPTER IV.

THE SUNDAY-SCHOOL.

Miss Etta Mountjoy was a young lady of the period. She was the youngest of Mr. Mountjoy's children, and the baby and pet of all. Her mother died when she was about five years old, and since then she had always done exactly as she pleased; her father would not control her, and her eldest sister, who took charge of the family in her mother's place, could not.

It was well that the girl had no evil tendencies and was, upon the whole, well-principled, warm-hearted, and good-natured, or she might have gone very grievously astray. As it was, she was now at seventeen a bright b.u.t.terfly, flitting from one to another of the flowers of life, and sipping as much honey as she could from each. She was fond of all sorts of bright, pretty things, handsome clothes and jewelry included.

She liked to sing and she liked to dance, to go to parties when there were any, and to attend concerts and theatres when she went to town; in a word, she was fond of "having a good time," as Americans express it, whenever and wherever she could get a chance.

Nor did Miss Etta mind work. She was a girl of energy, who would willingly walk miles to attend a picnic or climb a mountain, and she did not hesitate to work for hours on a tr.i.m.m.i.n.g for her dress, or even some more useful piece of sewing. She was always having _furores_ for something; at one time it was gardening, when she coaxed her father to have a good-sized piece of ground dug up and laid out for her, and actually raised, not flowers, as one would expect, but quite respectable vegetables, hoeing the beans, corn, and cabbages herself, and weeding out the cuc.u.mbers, lettuce, and radishes with persistent fidelity.

At another time she had a poultry-mania, and a chicken-house with the most approved nests, warming-apparatus, etc., was constructed for the little lady, and here she daily set the hens, fed the chickens, and collected the eggs, selling them to her father at exorbitant prices.

Again, cooking absorbed her time and gave occupation to her energies; and the family were treated to strange compounds of her concocting, while the old servant who reigned supreme in the kitchen was in the depths of despair at the number of dishes and pans she was called upon to clear up, the waste and breakage that went on, and the general disorganization of her lifelong arrangements.

Happily, or unhappily, these moods never were of long duration. The reading-mania lasted just long enough for a handsome bookcase to be stocked with histories, biographies, etc.; a few volumes of poems were dipped into, several novels read, and a big history attacked, when the mood changed into a pa.s.sion for skating, and the remainder of the winter was consumed in preparing a fancy costume, getting the most approved club-skates, and learning to keep upright upon them; but by the time so much was accomplished, the ice broke up and Miss Etta was obliged to find some other occupation. Art came next in the list of the girl's absorbing avocations. A studio was fitted up, canvas stretched upon easels, pencils sharpened, and quite a creditable beginning made upon some pictures which showed considerable native taste and ability.

Just now Sunday-school teaching had taken the place of all other things, and Etta Mountjoy devoted the energies of her many-sided nature to her cla.s.s. There had been more than one person opposed to entrusting so sacred a work to so light-minded and trivial a girl. Her brother James considered it nothing short of sacrilege, and her oldest sister Eunice reasoned with her very gravely, and tried to show her that, in order to teach the truths of G.o.d, one should have some personal knowledge of them, and that the only acceptable motive for religious work was a sincere desire to please G.o.d and benefit the souls of those whom Christ came to save. But Etta was not accustomed to be guided by her brother and sister; she went to her father, told him she wanted to take a cla.s.s in Sunday-school, and of course he said "Yes." Then she went to the superintendent and made known her request, saying it was at her father's desire, which, as he was book-keeper at the paper-mill, would, she knew, have great weight.

Mr. Scoville paused, hesitated, and finally resolved to consult the pastor, promising Etta her answer before Sunday came round. He would have given an unqualified refusal had the pet.i.tioner been any one else than his employer's daughter.

Mr. Morven, the pastor, however, thought differently. He had known the young girl ever since she was a very little one; he knew there was no positive evil in her, and though he had not heretofore suspected her of any serious thought, he looked upon her request as an indication of good, and said that perhaps the very familiarity with sacred things which teaching a Sunday-school cla.s.s would necessitate might be as beneficial to the teacher as to the scholars. So Mr. Scoville, though rather against his better judgment, sent a note to Miss Etta granting her request, having in his mind a certain cla.s.s of little ones just out of the infant cla.s.s, the teacher of which had announced her intention of leaving the school. When he went to see this teacher, however, he found she had changed her mind, and there was no other cla.s.s available except one composed of seven "big girls," of whom Katie Robertson was one. Of course, Mr. Scoville could not go back on his word, so Miss Etta Mountjoy was formally installed as teacher of one of the most important cla.s.ses of the school.

Most of the girls liked her; some were seized with a violent admiration, if not of her, of her beautiful hats, delicate kid gloves, and all the _et cetera_ which go to make up the toilet of a modern young lady.

Others liked her fresh, frank manner and sympathy with them and their interests. Indeed, she was so nearly on their own level as to age that there was no room for condescension on this account; while, as to position, where was there ever an American girl of any age who acknowledged to social inferiority? Katie alone felt, though she could hardly explain it, the want of something in her new teacher which had been peculiarly characteristic of the old one, who was a plain, elderly woman, without much education,--namely, personal love and devotion to the Lord Jesus, showing itself in an earnest desire that her scholars might also learn to love and serve him. This good teacher's prayers had been answered, and her efforts blessed, in Katie Robertson's case, and hence the girl knew how to appreciate the difference.

In some ways, however, Etta agreeably disappointed all their expectations. She set herself to study and prepare her lessons with an energy that carried all before it; consulted commentaries, studied dates, compared contemporary history, committed to memory schedules, and looked out ill.u.s.trations, all of which she imparted to her cla.s.s till its members far surpa.s.sed all the others in the school in their knowledge of scripture geography and history and biography. They could give complete lists of the patriarchs, the judges, the kings of Israel and Judah, and the major and minor prophets; and they never failed with the dates of the deluge, the "call of Abraham," the Exodus, the Captivity, and all the periodic points by which the Bible is marked and mapped off in the voluminous Sunday-school literature of the day. As to distinctively religious teachings, every scholar had the catechism verbatim, ready to recite at a moment's notice, and a failure in the "golden text" was unknown. To be sure, other teachers in her vicinity, whose cla.s.ses failed to win the unqualified praise accorded to hers, did say that Miss Etta never failed to prompt her scholars if there seemed to be any hesitation; but perhaps that was due to a tinge of jealousy in consequence of all the prizes given at a quarterly examination, including one for the teacher, having been won by this "banner cla.s.s."

All this was very well in its way. There is certainly no harm in knowing all we can about the Bible; it helps us to understand and appreciate it, and to answer the objections which foolish infidels are constantly bringing against it; but the girls, especially Katie, missed the pointed application; the showing how every wrong thing is sin; how sin must be punished; how Jesus has borne the punishment, and so is ready and willing to forgive the sin; how he loves all men, even though they are sinners, and is ready to give them strength to resist temptation and conquer sin, if they will diligently seek the aid of his Holy Spirit--in Bible words, to make them "whiter than snow." These are the true themes of Sunday-school teaching; the one end to be aimed at is so to bring up the children in the "nurture and admonition of the Lord," as that when they come to years of discretion they shall gladly confess him as their Master, and become n.o.ble, intelligent, active Christian men and women.

Lacking this, all outside things are, as the apostle says, "sounding bra.s.s and a tinkling cymbal."

The only positive harm which Miss Etta did to her cla.s.s was to foster in some of the girls a great admiration for dress and an ardent desire to imitate their teacher in this respect. Since the days of Eve a taste for dress has always been an inherent part of a girl's const.i.tution, and is apt to become one of her greatest temptations, especially if she be a poor girl, as were most of these, and must procure cheap imitations of finery; or, if even these are beyond their reach, indulge in discontented repinings, which are really rebellion against G.o.d.

Squantown Sunday-school was a very pleasant one. Quite unlike the usual oblong wooden building, which in many country places serves for a secular school during the week and a Sunday-school on Sunday, it was a pretty gothic brick building, handsomely fitted up with folding-seats, a reed organ, and an uncommonly good library. A nice carpet was upon the floor, and pretty illuminated texts painted upon the walls; the windows were narrow and pointed, with little diamond-shaped panes, and when opened gave a near view of the minister's garden full of bright-hued flowers, and a more distant one of softly outlined blue mountains, whose tops, capped in summer with snowy clouds and in winter with veritable snow, formed apt ill.u.s.trations to thoughtful teachers of the "mountains that stand round about Jerusalem," and symbolized the protecting love and care of the Lord for his people.

The beautiful Sunday-school building was largely due to the efforts of Mr. James, who had his father's well-filled purse to draw from; and he had interested himself in getting the scholars together, as well as in introducing among them all modern improvements. He was greatly interested in his cla.s.s of big boys, over whom his influence was most beneficial. Nearly all of them had already confessed Christ, and were mostly manly Christians, exercising a good influence upon the other boys in the mill or bindery, to which they, as well as nearly all the members of the school, belonged.

Miss Eunice Mountjoy was also engaged in the Sunday-school, having charge of the Bible-cla.s.s, which contained all the oldest scholars, some of them quite young men and women. She was a very different sort of person from her youngest sister. Fully twelve years her senior, she looked and seemed much older than she really was, and no one had for years thought of calling her a "girl," although now she was only twenty-nine. When she was quite a girl her mother had died, leaving her with the care of all her sisters and her brother, to whom she had, indeed, done a mother's part. Her chief aim in life had always been to "do all to the glory of G.o.d," and to her Bible-cla.s.s she gave her most earnest efforts and her warmest prayers. Her influence was great at home, in the mill, and throughout the town of Squantown, though, as far as possible, she obeyed the scripture injunction not to let her left hand know what her right hand was doing. She always invited the female members of her cla.s.s to take tea with her every Wednesday night; the boys and young men being expected to come afterward, remain a little while, and then escort their sisters, cousins, and friends home. These little meetings were very pleasant; sometimes pretty fancy-work--to be sold for the benefit of the cla.s.s missionary fund--was done; sometimes clothes were cut out and made for some of the poorer factory children, or some fatherless baby, while Miss Eunice read aloud some interesting book; sometimes when the topics suggested by last Sunday's lesson had proved too voluminous for the time of the session, they were taken up and discussed on Wednesday; sometimes difficult points in next week's lesson were antic.i.p.ated. In this way the teacher became really acquainted with the members of her cla.s.s, their dispositions, temptations, and interests; she gained their confidence, and was often able to advise and a.s.sist them in many ways, and they learned to look upon her as a friend to whom they might apply in time of need. And, as a secondary benefit, the girls learned a great deal in the way of cutting out, basting, and other mysteries of needlework calculated to prove very useful to them in their future capacity of wives and mothers.

Eunice had often wished that the same plan could be pursued in the other elder cla.s.ses; but their teachers, who were mostly employed in some capacity in the mill, could hardly spare the time, and Etta certainly was not fitted for the work. As an experiment, however, on the first Sunday after Katie entered the mill she came over to her sister's cla.s.s and invited all the girls, or as many as chose to do so, to join hers on Wednesday afternoon next, saying she had something of interest and importance to talk about. As the invitation was one that seemed to place those to whom it was given in the rank of grown-up girls, it was at once gladly accepted, especially as most of the girls had never been inside of Mr. Mountjoy's house and grounds, and would gladly see the luxury of which they had heard so much.

There was a great deal of talk after the close of the session about the invitation and the proposed meeting, and some curiosity was expressed as to the "important thing" Miss Eunice was to talk about. One or two of the girls said they were sorry they had accepted the invitation; they didn't like "to have religion poked at them"; they guessed they wouldn't go. Before the appointed day, however, curiosity got the better of these fainthearted ones, and not a girl of Etta's cla.s.s was wanting when the time arrived.