Katie Robertson : $b A girls story of factory lifeWinslow, Margaret E.
General
Katie Robertson : $b A girls story of factory life
Winslow, Margaret E.
Factories -- Fiction; Young women -- Fiction
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 hardship
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.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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