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KATIE ROBERTSON
A GIRLS STORY OF FACTORY LIFE
By MARGARET E. WINSLOW
Author of "Miss Malcolm's Ten," "Three Years at Glenwood," etc.
A. L. BURT COMPANY, PUBLISHERS
NEW YORK
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Copyright, 1885,
By Congregational Sunday School and Publishing Society.
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To the many boys and girls who are in early years earning an honorable
support for themselves, or else assisting their parents by working in
factories; to the multitudes of young church members, who may be glad of
some practically helpful suggestions in surmounting the difficulties and
resisting the temptations incident to their new lives; to mill-owners,
who feel their solemn responsibility, as in the sight of God, for the
intellectual and spiritual welfare of their operatives; and chiefly to
the young Christian manufacturer who has been the model from which the
picture of "Mr. James" has been copied,--this story, whose incidents are
mostly true ones, is dedicated.
That the Holy Spirit may make use of it to inculcate in young hearts a
sense of honorable independence, a conviction of the dignity of
faithfully performed work, and, above all, an earnest and irrevocable
choice of God's blessed service and an entire committal of their ways to
him, is the sincere prayer of
THE AUTHOR.
SAUGERTIES, July 1, 1885.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
KATIE ROBERTSON.
CHAPTER I.
A NEW DEPARTURE.
"But, mother, it isn't as if I were going away from home, like the Lloyd
girls; you might have a right to cry if that were the case."
"I know, dear; it's all right, and I ought to be very thankful; but I'm
a foolish woman. I can't bear to think of _my_ little girl, whom I have
guarded so tenderly, going among all those girls and men, and fighting
her way in life."
"I don't think I shall be much of a fighter," laughed Katie, looking at
her diminutive hands; "and why is it any worse to go among the boys and
girls in the factory than among the boys and girls in school? You never
minded that."
"That was different--you weren't doing it for money. O me! what would I
have thought when I married your father if any one had told me that his
child, his _girl_ child, would ever have to earn her bread!"
"Well, mother, I won't go," said the girl, her bright looks fading away,
"if you don't want me to; but I don't know what Mr. Sanderson will
think, he tried so hard to get me into the mill, and it was such a favor
from Mr. Mountjoy. You _said_ you were very thankful."
"So I was, so I am; but--but you don't understand, and perhaps it's
better you should not. I'll try not to grumble."
This was promising more than Mrs. Robertson was able to perform perhaps,
for she was a chronic and inveterate grumbler. But she had some excuse
in the present circumstances, for Katie was, as she said, her baby, and
the "apple of her eye." Married when quite young to the handsome and
intelligent young village doctor, she certainly had not expected ever to
be placed in a position where her children, her girls at least, would
need to earn their own bread. But in a few short years the doctor died
of a contagious disease he had taken from one of his patients, and as he
had not yet begun to accumulate anything, his young widow was left with
her three children to struggle along as best she could. How she had done
it God and herself only knew. The little house was her own, the sole
patrimony left by her own father. The horse and buggy, the medical
library and valuable professional instruments, medicines, etc., were
sold at a fair valuation; and the money thus secured, deposited in the
bank, had served as a last resource whenever the barrel of meal failed
or the cruse of oil ran dry. For the rest, Mrs. Robertson was employed
by her neighbors to help turn and put down carpets, cover furniture,
etc. etc., light jobs requiring judgment and skill rather than strength,
for which her friends, who never placed her in a menial capacity, gladly
paid double the sum they would to any one else. She was also a capital
nurse, and in this position rendered herself very valuable in many
households, and for such services she was even more generously
remunerated; so that somehow she managed to keep her head above water
while her children were small, and feed, clothe, and send them to school
as they grew older.
Her children were, of course, the one source of consolation left to the
poor widow, and many a long evening's work was both shortened and
lightened by golden dreams of their future prosperity and success.
When her eldest boy Eric was twelve, and when Alfred, the second child,
was only ten, a friend made interest with Mr. Sanderson, superintendent
of the bookbindery, auxiliary to the Squantown Paper Mills, to give the
two boys steady employment, and since that time, four years ago, their
earnings, small but certain, had greatly helped in the family expenses.
Both were noble, manly fellows, with, as yet, no bad habits. They
brought their mother all that they earned, and were quite content to
pass their evenings with her and their little sister. Katie, who was now
thirteen, had always attended the public school in the village, of
course helping her mother with the housework and sewing. She was a
delicate little creature, small for her years, but bright and
intelligent, a general favorite with the village children as well as
with her Sunday-school teacher, Miss Etta Mountjoy, who was not so
very many years older than herself.
Katie was a very lady-like looking girl, and did not seem fitted to do
very hard work, nor to mix among rough people, but she was an
independent little thing who knew very well how poor her mother was and
how hard both she and her brothers had to work. She knew that her
breakfasts, dinners, and suppers cost something, and that it took money
to buy the good shoes and neat, whole dresses in which her mother always
kept her dressed, and she resolved in her own wise little head to find
some way of contributing to the family stock. It was some time before
she saw her way clear to do this, but at last she took counsel of a
school-fellow whose sister worked in the folding-room of the Squantown
Paper Mills and found that even a young girl might earn considerable in
this way. So, without telling any one at home of her plans, she, one
evening, presented herself before Mr. Sanderson and requested to be
taken into the bindery.
"What can you do, little puss?" said this gentleman, quite surprised.
"You look about large enough to play with dolls, like my Nina."
"I'm almost fourteen," said Katie, drawing herself up to her full height
and trying to look sedate. "I'm two years older than Nina; I'm as old as
your Bertie, Mr. Sanderson, and I _must_ make some money."
"Must you, indeed?" said he, beginning to be more interested. "Don't I
know your face? Let me see. Why, it can't be--yes, it is Katie
Robertson! How time flies! It seems to me only yesterday that your
father died, and you were a baby; but Bertie was one, too, then, that's
a fact. How time does fly, to be sure! So you want to get into the
bindery where your brothers are, I suppose?" Katie nodded. "Well, now,"
continued he, "it's most unfortunate, but there isn't a vacancy
anywhere; we have five or six applicants now waiting for a chance. Why
don't you try the mill?"
"The mill!" said Katie, "the paper-mill? But I don't know any one there;
how could I go and ask strangers?"
"I think you're brave enough to ask any one," said Mr. Sanderson. "I
suppose you'd find it hard, though, and perhaps no one would believe
that you were old enough or strong enough to work. Your looks are
against you, little one; and then, Mr. Mountjoy did not know your father
as I did; he came here afterward. Let me see. Perhaps I might have some
influence. Will you trust your case in my hands?" And, as the girl
nodded, he continued: "Come here about this time to-morrow evening, and
I will report progress. Perhaps I may have some good news for you, but
don't be too sure. It isn't so easy to get into the mill either; there
are always a great many applicants. You'll come?"
"Yes, sir," said Katie, and went away in a state of disappointed
uncertainty. It was not quite so easy to earn money as she had supposed.
The little girl looked very mysterious all teatime, and threw out
several hints that quite mystified her brothers about Mr. Sanderson and
the bindery. But no one guessed her secret, and the next afternoon, just
as she was beginning to think of putting on her hat and running down to
get her answer, who should come into the gate but Mr. Sanderson himself.
Mrs. Robertson was greatly frightened when she saw him. She was one of
those persons who always look on the dark side of things, and she feared
her boys had got into trouble and would perhaps lose their situations.
She trembled so that she could hardly put on the widow's cap, in which
she always appeared before strangers (although it was now six years
since the doctor had left her and gone home to heaven), and said to her
daughter:--
"That's always our luck! Just as soon as things seem to be going
straight with us, some terrible misfortune is sure to happen; we're the
most unfortunate family in the world."
The poor lady forgot that, with the one exception of her husband's
death, her life had been one of unmingled, as well as undeserved,
happiness; and even in that loss her three children had been spared to
her, friends had been raised up to help her, and there had never been a
day when she and her children had not had enough plain food to eat and
plain clothes to wear. It is thus that we are all apt to dishonor God by
dwelling upon the one thing which in his providence he has seen fit to
take away, and forgetting to thank him for all the many other blessings
he has given us.
But Katie was full of expectation and suppressed delight. She was the
opposite of her mother, and always expected good news, and she felt sure
that Mr. Sanderson would not have taken the trouble to come himself,
except to tell her that he had secured a place for her. Her eyes danced
as she let him in, and she looked inquiringly in his face. But he said
nothing, except:--
"Good-evening, Katie. I would like to see your mother a few moments." So
she ushered him into the "front room," so seldom used, and went to
summon her mother, waiting outside the door till she should herself be
called in to the consultation.
When Mr. Sanderson told Mrs. Robertson that he had called to say that he
had been successful in his application to Mr. Mountjoy, who had agreed
to take Katie into the "rag-room" of the paper-mill, in consideration of
his interest in her mother, she was completely taken by surprise and
inclined to be offended with both gentlemen for their interference, as
she thought it, with her business; but when she heard that the
application came from the child herself, while greatly surprised, she
could not but feel grateful to them for their trouble, and expressed
herself so, while she nevertheless decidedly declined to allow Katie to
accept the position, saying she was altogether too young and too
delicate, and that she would not have her daughter disgraced by working
for her living.
"For the matter of that," said Mr. Sanderson, "I shall be glad to have
my Bertie take the place if you don't want it for Katie. I have a large
family to bring up, and I want my girls and boys both to be independent.
I hadn't thought of it for Bertie quite yet, but your Katie reminded me
last night of how old she is; and I see she is none too young to begin."
This put a little different face on the matter, for Mrs. Sanderson and
Mrs. Robertson had been intimate friends when girls, in precisely the
same rank in life, although one had married a doctor and the other the
overseer of the bookbindery. Moreover, Mr. Sanderson was known to be
very well off and quite able--had he judged it best--to bring up his
girls in idleness, as useless fine ladies. Perhaps it would not be such
a disgrace, after all, and they did sorely need the money. Katie was not
dressed as her father's child should be, and toil as she might, even
with the boys' wages the widow could not make more than sufficed to keep
up the little home. Then, too, her child would have to do something for
herself when she grew up; she would have no one to look to but herself,
and though teaching would be perhaps a more genteel way of support, it
was a very laborious one, and would make it necessary to go away from
home, as the Lloyd girls were going to do, and to remain away for
several years, first at some higher institution of learning and then at
the Normal School, and where would the money come from to pay the
tuition fees, traveling expenses, and board bills?
All this passed through Mrs. Robertson's mind as Mr. Sanderson reasoned
with her and showed her the foolishness of her objections, and finally
the impatient Katie was called in, and informed that she might "try it
for a while"; and then the visitor was thanked for his trouble, and
took his leave.
This all happened a week ago. The intervening time had been spent in
putting Katie's simple wardrobe in order and in making home arrangements
by which Mrs. Robertson would not miss her daughter more than she could
help, in those various little services which she had been wont to
render. The last day had now come; to-morrow the new life was to begin,
and Katie was clearing up the breakfast things for the last time when
the conversation with which our story commences took place.
"I wish it was not in the rag-room," said Mrs. Robertson, by-and-by,
when Katie, having finished her dishes and swept up the room, drew her
seat to her mother's side and took up her work--the ruffle of the last
of the six mob-caps she was to wear at her work.
"Why?" said her daughter, to whom the factory was just now a sort of
enchanted palace, any one of whose rooms was delightful to contemplate.
"It's such a low, dirty place, I'm told, and there's so many common
women and girls there."
"Well, I needn't talk to them, I suppose. I needn't be common, at any
rate, and I can't get dirty in those great long-sleeved aprons and these
nice little caps. You don't know how smart I'm going to be, and won't
you be proud of your big girl when she brings home her first
three-dollar bill, all earned in one week? Eric will see that a girl's
worth something, after all, and Alfred sha'n't make fun of me any more."
Mrs. Robertson did not say anything else just now; she did not like to
be always checking the exuberance of her child's spirits with the dull
forebodings of her own, but she could not see the paper-mill through the
same halo that invested it in Katie's eyes. She knew there were snares
and temptations, besides disagreeable and hard work to be met and
encountered there, and she feared that the child's future disappointment
would be proportioned to the brightness of her present hopes. Still, as
the matter was determined upon, she knew it was right to make the best
of it, and she tried to talk pleasantly and at least seem to sympathize
with her daughter's enthusiasm.
So passed the day, and at night when the boys came home they were
called upon to listen for the hundredth time to all the rose-colored
plans, and were pressed to declare that there could be nothing in the
world more delightful than working in a factory.
But the boys could not see it in that light any more than their mother.
They were as content to work as are most men and boys who seem to take
it for granted that it is in the course of nature for them to earn their
bread by the sweat of their brow, but they had been at it long enough to
have lost the sense of novelty and to understand that it was work and
not play which their sister was undertaking.
"Won't you be sick of it!" said Alfred, in answer to one of Katie's
outbursts, "and long, when Saturday comes, to go out nutting with the
girls, or off on a hay-ride, or something! You'll wish you were free
before you've been a slave many months, or I'm no prophet."
"Well, she shall be free if she wants to," said Eric, kindly. "Our only
little sister sha'n't work if she don't want to; we can take care of
her, Alfred, can't we?"
"But I do want to work," said Katie; "I know I sha'n't get tired, or if
I do get tired of the work, I sha'n't of getting the money; for, boys, I
mean to be a rich, independent woman, and help take care of mother. You
needn't suppose that I'm going to be dependent upon you."
"All right, young lady," said Alfred, "only I think you'll sing a
different tune before many months are over."
"The tune you ought to sing just now, children," said Mrs. Robertson,
"is 'Good-night.' You all have to go to work very early, and Katie is
not used to it. Good-night, darling, and don't forget to ask God to
bless you and shield you in your new undertaking."
"I asked him that night to make Mr. Mountjoy listen to Mr. Sanderson and
give me the place," said Katie, with a rising color; "don't you think he
heard me and answered my prayer? It seems as though he had just made it
all straight and plain. I feel just like thanking him to-night; and,
mother, don't you worry so much. Don't you think Jesus is strong enough
to take care of me anywhere if I ask him to?"
"Yes, indeed," said the mother, almost ashamed of her forebodings, and
rebuked, as she had many a time been, by the bright, hopeful faith of
her child. Surely when she looked at the bright, happy, healthy faces of
her children, she too had ample cause for thankfulness, and for
continued trust in the divine love which had carried her safely through
so many emergencies and had promised never to leave or forsake her or
hers.