A Fragile Design (24 page)
‘‘Perhaps you ought to eat supper first and then go visiting,’’ Bella offered.
‘‘I’ll do that, and I’ll see you tomorrow morning at first bell,’’ she added, rushing off toward her own boardinghouse.
Daughtie linked arms with Bella. ‘‘You
are
very wise, Bella. You gave her good counsel. The Sisters would be proud.’’
‘‘It’s the Lord I’m trying to please, Daughtie, not the Sisters at Canterbury.’’
‘‘I know, I know, and I’m sure He’s pleased, also,’’ Daughtie said. ‘‘Come along. I’m hungry and I can’t wait to tell you about my day.’’
When supper was over and the dishes washed, Miss Addie made her way back into the dining room, where Bella and Daughtie sat visiting. She carried a tray with a teapot and three cups. ‘‘I thought we could have a cup of tea while we visit,’’ she suggested. ‘‘Would you like to join me in my sitting room?’’
‘‘Yes,’’ the girls agreed in unison.
Miss Addie poured and served each of the girls, then stirred a bit of cream and sugar into her own cup before leaning back in her chair. ‘‘I hear you have a new position in the dressing room, Daughtie. I would enjoy hearing what you do. I’ve visited the mill on only one occasion and only got as far as the counting room. It’s difficult for me to imagine what your workday must be like.’’
‘‘My workday has gotten much better, thanks to Bella. She was offered the position first but turned it down. I think she would have accepted had it not been for me,’’ Daughtie said to Miss Addie in a conspiratorial tone.
Addie winked at Daughtie and then gave Bella a warm smile. ‘‘I’m sure Bella would be willing to give up almost anything to make certain you’re happy, Daughtie.’’
‘‘Enough! Enough!’’ Bella protested. ‘‘Tell us about your day.’’
‘‘As you’re well aware, Bella, where I now work is much quieter than the weaving or spinning floors, and it’s airier, too. Of course, there are fewer girls on the floor, which helps, also. Today was Nancy Everhardt’s last day. They told her she was to train me for the full day. Can you imagine? She was very patient and kind.’’
‘‘And I’m sure you were an exceptional student,’’ Miss Addie interjected.
Daughtie smiled at the compliment. ‘‘The dressers with their frames are on one side of the room to ensure the yarn is properly sized and dried before being wound onto the take-up beam, which is a job I don’t think I would enjoy. But once they have the warp threads on the beam, the beam is moved to the drawing-in girl. One by one, the warp threads are drawn through the harness and reed with a long metal hook before the beam is delivered to the girls in the weaving room.’’
Addie appeared surprised. ‘‘You pull each thread by hand? I thought everything was done by machine.’’
Daughtie’s face shone with a bright smile. ‘‘Praise be, they’ve not yet developed a machine to perform this task, Miss Addie.’’
Bella considered Daughtie’s explanation. ‘‘So if I understand correctly, you sit on a stool or chair all day long, using a metal hook to pull the individual threads through the weaver’s beam?’’
‘‘That’s right,’’ Daughtie said in a pleased voice.
‘‘Then I’m glad you have the job. I think after one day, my back would ache from leaning and reaching through to pull the threads,’’ Bella said.
‘‘No, Bella. It’s much better than standing at those noisy, monstrous looms that threaten injury at every turn. The drawing room has no flying shuttles such as you experienced on your floor today.’’
‘‘What’s this? Another accident? Was anyone injured?’’ Miss Addie inquired, her eyes filled with concern.
‘‘Irene Duncan. I don’t think you know her,’’ Bella replied.
‘‘This morning I was training Daughtie’s replacement, Virginia Dane.’’ Bella continued with the story, explaining the unfolding events to Miss Addie.
‘‘These injuries concern me. Some time ago I discussed them with John, but he says they are a common occurrence when man and machine join forces. And what of Irene? Were her injuries serious?’’
‘‘She was terribly stunned by the blow, and her head was bleeding. Mr. Kingman took her to the doctor. I’m not certain if she’ll be well enough to return tomorrow, but I don’t expect to see her. But what of your day, Miss Addie? I hope it was peaceful.’’
Addie poured another cup of tea. ‘‘Yes, it was a good day. I accomplished a great deal. I went into town—oh yes, and that reminds me, I saw a notice posted by Reverend Edson concerning the graded school system he’s proposing. There’s to be a meeting of the residents of Lowell concerning the proposal. Word about town is that Kirk Boott is strongly opposed to Reverend Edson’s plan and will be at the meeting to argue against the concept.’’
Bella’s eyes sparkled with excitement. ‘‘We need to discuss this at our next meeting with the literary group. Having most of the girls attend the meeting could give the proposal a boost. I, for one, hope Kirk Boott doesn’t win this argument. Education is one of the necessities of a civilized society, and as citizens of Lowell, we need to support the best possible form of schooling—for both the boys and girls.’’
Miss Addie listened attentively while nodding her agreement. ‘‘You make valid arguments, Bella, and I’m sure your comments would sway those who attend the meeting. Your eloquence is a testament to your excellent education.’’
Bella gave her hostess a sheepish grin. ‘‘I’ve been pontificating again, haven’t I?’’
Daughtie giggled. ‘‘That was Sister Phoebe’s favorite way to end a debate; she’d accuse Bella of pontificating and call a halt to further discussion,’’ Daughtie explained. ‘‘But the Society did provide us with superior schooling, didn’t it, Bella?’’
‘‘Yes, I’ll give you no argument on that issue. Fortunately for us, they value education for both men and women. They know it is through education a person can live a better life.’’
Miss Addie gave her a thoughtful glance. ‘‘I’m sure I didn’t appreciate the education that was offered to me nearly as much as you girls do. And I certainly didn’t learn as much! But I believe the true path to a better life is achieved through drawing closer to God.’’
Bella pondered the remark a moment before responding. ‘‘Let’s see,’’ she began, her index finger pushing a dimple into her chin. ‘‘Is education or the pursuit of God the true path to a better life? That would be quite a topic for debate,’’ she concluded.
‘‘I’m not so sure. Perhaps the topic is better suited for personal reflection and prayer than public debate,’’ Addie responded.
‘‘I believe you’re right, Miss Addie,’’ Bella replied, glancing toward the mantel clock above the fireplace. ‘‘The hour is growing late—it’s almost ten o’clock. I suppose we’d best go upstairs and prepare for bed,’’ Bella said as she stifled a yawn.
‘‘Oh, I’ve nearly forgotten to tell you about Clara,’’ Daughtie said, suddenly sounding very excited.
‘‘The little doffer whose fingers were broken in the machinery?’’ Addie questioned.
‘‘Yes. Her mother works just down the aisle from me. She said that Clara has recovered nicely. She may have a crooked index finger, but she seems to be able to use her hand without any trouble.’’
‘‘That’s wonderful news!’’ Bella declared. ‘‘I’ve wondered what became of her. No one ever likes to mention the accidents or even the recoveries.’’
‘‘Well, hopefully there will be no more accidents for a while,’’ Addie said as she gathered the teacups, placing them back on the tray. ‘‘I’ve enjoyed our time together,’’ she added, picking up the tea tray and following the girls toward the door.
Bella stopped and glanced over her shoulder. ‘‘Have you seen Mrs. Arnold lately, Miss Addie?’’
Addie beamed. ‘‘Why, yes, I saw her just this morning. She was outdoors with the baby, and what a darling child she is—smiles at everything and has lots of wispy dark hair.’’
‘‘Did Mrs. Arnold appear content?’’
‘‘She appeared quite happy. Why do you ask?’’
‘‘Oh, nothing . . . just curious,’’ Bella replied. ‘‘Sleep well, Miss Addie,’’ she said with a wave of her hand.
‘‘And you girls do the same,’’ she replied.
The bed that evening seemed lumpy and the gentle snores of the sleeping girls louder than usual. The stale air hung heavy with an insufferable dampness, and Bella could not sleep. She tossed and turned, but sleep would not come. Miss Addie’s words flitted through her mind. Were her good works not considered a means of drawing closer to God? Did she place too little emphasis on her relationship with Him? But wasn’t helping others meet their full potential a godly thing to do? After all, relationships required hard work and commitment, and she had tried that with her father. She had longed for him to love her, but her efforts had been met with his rejection. If her flesh-and-blood father wasn’t interested in her presence, how could Almighty God desire a relationship with her?
Her eyes fluttered closed. She lay silent, drifting to sleep when a still voice whispered to her heart,
If you will but seek me, I will be your constant companion. I loved you enough to die for you—I will not turn away
.
Hugh Cummiskey hailed greetings to several Irishmen, his bass voice resonating throughout the interior walls that now formed the outer shell of the Catholic church. The boisterous sound caused Liam to turn from his work and sit back on his haunches. He squinted against the filtering sunlight in an effort to identify the man at Hugh’s side.
‘‘There you are, my boy,’’ Hugh shouted. ‘‘I’ve brought someone to meet you. This here’s Mr. Matthew Cheever, Kirk Boott’s second-in-command,’’ he continued while pointing a thumb toward Matthew. ‘‘Seems Mr. Cheever and Mr. Boott saw a bit of your handiwork when they last visited Boston.’’
Liam turned his gaze toward Matthew and swiped one hand on his jacket before reaching out to shake Matthew’s extended hand. ‘‘For sure? And where was that?’’
Matthew grasped Liam’s hand in a firm shake. ‘‘At the home of J. P. Green. He spoke highly of you,’’ Matthew replied. ‘‘But had he not said a word, your craftsmanship would have spoken for itself. In fact, I’m amazed that someone with your talent was willing to leave Boston. I’m sure there’s more than enough work to keep you busy among the wealthy Beacon Hill residents.’’
Liam wiped off his trowel and gave the men his full attention. ‘‘Ya’re probably correct, but who could be turnin’ down the likes of Hugh Cummiskey and the opportunity to live in the Acre?’’ he asked, giving Hugh a wink.
‘‘Ah, so you’ve noticed the Acre isn’t languishing in luxury, have you?’’ Matthew asked with a chuckle.
Liam gave an appreciative grin. ‘‘I like a man who can meet a barb head-on, Mr. Cheever.’’
‘‘Then I’d say we ought to get along famously. And if all it took was Hugh’s coaxing to bring you to Lowell, I think we’ve underestimated his abilities.’’
‘‘In that case, I’ll be glad to see your appreciation when I go through the pay line on Friday,’’ Hugh replied. ‘‘To be honest, I don’t think it was me that brought Liam to Lowell; I think it was the church.’’
‘‘So you’re a man of faith. I’d say this is a perfect place to use your talents for the Lord. I applaud your willingness to make such a sacrifice,’’ Matthew replied.
Liam shook his head back and forth. ‘‘My intentions are not so lofty as servin’ the Lord. Truth is, I don’t consider meself a man of God. I’ve never quite figured out the whole concept o’ religion. For as long as I can remember, my mother filled our house with shrines that were a confusing mixture of elves, fairies, and saints. Each morning she’d scurry off to church as if the devil himself was sweepin’ her out the door, but when problems arose, she expected no more from God than she did from the elves and fairies. I found it all very bewilderin’—still do. Trouble is, I wrote a letter home tellin’ me mother about this church and Hugh’s offer. She immediately wrote back sayin’ she’d had a divine word from either God or an elf—I’m not sure which—that her life was in danger unless I came to Lowell.’’
Hugh clapped a beefy hand against his thigh. ‘‘Good for your ma. We’ll be counting it as God’s intervention since we’re erecting this church for His glory and not the elves’,’’ he said.
‘‘Ah, she’s not foolin’ me. It wasn’t intervention by God or the elves; it was because she wanted to do a bit of motherly braggin’. She’ll be goin’ about the village tellin’ everyone that I’m buildin’ a church for the Irish immigrants in America, and the women will all be in awe until someone else has somethin’ better to make a fuss about,’’ Liam replied.
‘‘But that’s what mothers are for, my boy,’’ Hugh put in. ‘‘They keep us on the straight and narrow one way or another. I’ll use any advantage offered if it means I get a skilled craftsman like you working on this church building.’’
Matthew glanced back and forth between the two men, a look of confusion etched upon his face. ‘‘Who is paying your wages, Liam? The Corporation donated the land, but Hugh agreed to provide the necessary labor from among the Irishmen living in the Acre.’’
Puzzled, Liam didn’t know how to respond. Certainly he had discussed his wages with Hugh prior to accepting the job, agreeing to an hourly wage that was somewhat lower than the sum he normally charged. Inquiring where the money would come from had never entered his mind. He looked toward Hugh for an answer.
Hugh flipped his broad hand as though he were shooing a fly. ‘‘Don’t worry yourself over Liam’s pay. It’s taken care of,’’ he said, quickly turning his attention toward Liam. ‘‘I’ve a bit of good news for you, Liam. I’ve found you a new place to live. You’ll soon be able to bid Noreen a fond farewell,’’ Hugh said, smoothly turning the conversation away from Liam’s pay.
Liam gave Hugh a broad smile. ‘‘You’ve made me a happy man, Hugh Cummiskey! When can I be movin’ in?’’
‘‘You’re not even going to ask the location or cost?’’
‘‘No! I trust that whatever ya’ve found will be an improvement.’’
‘‘You can move in tomorrow. I think you’ll find your new home and the food a bit more to your liking. But remember that nothing in the Acre will compare to your room in Boston.’’
‘‘All I want is edible food and a bed that’s free of lice. As I told ya, my accommodations in Boston were meager but clean.’’