Sleeping Beauty's Spindle

by Shonna Slayton

  Ania had already cleared out her things by the time supper was over. She must have slipped in while they were eating, likely more eager to move in with her friends than to worry about saying good-bye to her old room-mates.

  “Stay long enough to go over our room-mate expectations with us,” said Ethel when Briar had tried to leave. Her eyes were sympathetic, acknowledging how hard this was going to be for Briar.

  Ethel had no idea. To have a constant reminder of what could have been with her ex-sweetheart was beyond what Briar could handle. She pivoted in the bedroom doorway, weighing the decision.

  “It won’t take long,” Ethel said.

  “Of course not.” Briar sat down on her bed to wait for Sadie. They’d learned to have the talk about expectations early and straight out, so everyone would be comfortable in voicing their concerns, and small irritants wouldn’t grow into big fights later on. They didn’t spend a lot of time in their rooms, but they didn’t want that time to be miserable, either.

  Mim was already taking stock of her space, a look of concern as she eyed the places that should belong to a fourth girl, but that she had already taken over.

  Ethel joined Briar on their bed. Soon, Sadie came in with more belongings than Ania would ever hope to have, and Mim willingly gave up more space to her.

  “Are you sure you only need that much room under the bed?” asked Mim. “I can stack some of my things up in the corner here. Just let me know.”

  It was more than Briar could take. It was as if Mim was being extra friendly to punish Briar for her comment about Pierre. Briar stood and put a shawl around her shoulder.

  “I’ll be back before curfew.” Ethel was really the one who cared about the rules anyway.

  “Stay with us,” said Sadie sweetly. “We’re just starting to get to know each other.”

  “And the rules…” said Ethel.

  Briar paused in the doorway. Two steps outside and she would be able to take a deep breath. Briar couldn’t tell if she didn’t like Sadie because she was seeing Wheeler, or if she didn’t like Sadie because of Sadie herself.

  Briar turned around, receiving a quick, sympathetic smile from Mim, who took her place at the wash basin. Mim liked to wash up first.

  “Now that we’re all here,” said Ethel, looking pointedly at Briar, “let’s go over the rules.”

  Sadie flounced onto her new bed and rolled her eyes at Briar.

  Briar ignored the look and turned her attention to Ethel, like listening to her talk about the rules was the most important thing in the world.

  “No one is allowed to be messy. We each take care of our own things, but common areas like the dresser tops, the water basin, and the desktop, are to be kept orderly at all times. We take turns with the wastewater, the trash, the sweeping, the dusting. No food is to be left out to rot. If any is found, we are allowed to toss it in the kitchen trash so the room doesn’t stink or attract mice.”

  “Next,” called Mim, backing away from the water basin.

  Sadie made a dash for the basin. After they’d all cycled through, the rules were done, and Ethel had started in on inviting Sadie to the next suffrage meeting. “Given what the mill wants to do to our wages, it’s time for us to band together again like they did a few years ago when the operatives went on strike. But we need the vote if we’re to make any lasting changes.”

  “No more suffrage talk, please.” Mim turned off the light. “I want pleasant dreams.”

  Soon the gentle shuffles of everyone settling in for the night shifted to the quiet sounds of roommates sleeping. Briar stared up into the dark, wide awake despite her aching feet and sore shoulders. She was as exhausted as the others but couldn’t shut down her mind. Fanny’s constant talk of fairies was working its way into her thoughts, and she was trying to keep separate the ideas of fairies and fairy wood. The spindle under her bed may be made of something called fairy wood, but that didn’t mean it was truly magical.

  Chapter 13

  Finally, the fog began to lift, and with it the ill tempers. Briar had hoped to get another good look at the spindle, but with all her roommates in the room, especially Sadie, there was no time.

  When she got to her station at work, she examined her frames to check their suitability for a wooden spindle. She’d never paid much heed to the inner workings, keeping her eyes on the thread itself. Now she noted the rows of spindles and how they attached to the machine. When she had to shut down one of the frames, she used the time to lift a bobbin out of the way and measure the size of the spindles. She tried unscrewing the bolt on one but it held fast. It wouldn’t be easy to twist off.

  As the dinner bell rang and everyone shut down, Briar quickly checked out her fourth frame. She’d watched Henry attend to the frame countless times, applying the oil, which got all over the doffers’ feet and the hem of Briar’s skirts.

  His theory was that one spindle in particular was causing the most trouble with her frame. He could never get it perfectly straight. So, if she could find that crooked one, she was confident she could get it off and replace it. All she’d need was a tool to apply enough force. She could swap them out before anyone else got there, or, if she made the switch near the end of her shift when all the frames were running, the noise of the machines would cover up any banging she made.

  The overseer couldn’t watch her all the time. At some point he’d be called to the far corner of the room to either help or berate another operative, and Briar would have a chance to act. But if she got caught messing with the frames…

  Briar glanced at the office door before walking the length of the frame, lifting up bobbins until she found the offending spindle. There it was, near the end on number four.

  “Oh, hello, Briar,” Sadie said.

  Briar dropped the bobbin and stood, heat rising to her face. “Hello. What are you doing in the spinning room?”

  Sadie pointed to the agent in charge of the mill, who was walking away. “I’m moving up here today. When I told him we were room-mates, he said you could show me what to do.”

  “I thought the frames were opening up at the end of the month. Whose frames are you taking over?”

  “Whoever had those ones.” She pointed to the next row over where a girl named Ruth had worked only yesterday.

  Ruth had been at the mill for several years and had developed the same racking cough Mam had had after breathing in too much cotton dust. They all knew the risks to their lungs from breathing in the cotton floating in the room, but what were they to do? Hope and pray they didn’t have to spend too many years in the spinning room.

  “What happened to her?” Briar asked. Ruth had said nothing about leaving, so this was unexpected.

  “Guess she found other work or went back home. Don’t care.”

  Briar took in a calming breath. “Fine. After dinner. We’d better hurry back to the house before all the food’s gone.” If nothing else, it was a chance for Briar to prove herself, that she could train someone. Hopefully Sadie learned quickly and well, because she’d be learning on Briar’s frames. If Sadie messed up, Briar’s pay would get docked. And Sadie, she wouldn’t get paid anything until she had her own frames.

  Sadie walked on ahead, and Briar, in exasperation, briefly closed her eyes and tilted her head up. A drop of water from one of the ceiling hoses landed on her cheek. The water was sprayed onto the frames to help keep the cotton from breaking as it was pulled and twisted into thread. Well, maybe now her emotional threads wouldn’t break. Not likely. She wiped off the water drop. Nothing so simple would help to hold her together if she lost the children.

  “Heard you’ve got a new spinner,” Mim said, her eyes wide. She and Briar were walking up to the room after supper to work on two baby dresses Mim had brought in over the weekend.

  Briar mimicked Mim’s wide eyes. “It was a surprise.” They both laughed at the understatement. “She’s actually a quick learner, for which I’m glad. She shadowed me for a couple of hours, and then I had her work one of he
r own frames for the rest of the day. She’ll do all right.” Briar was glad she hadn’t tried to swap out the spindle yet, or Sadie would have seen.

  “And did the overseer get a good look at you teaching? You’ll need his recommendation for Burlington.”

  “All he does is watch us. The old overseer used to spend most of his time in the office. This one paces all day and makes us nervous.”

  “Gather ’round ladies,” Miss Olive said, calling up the stairs to those who had already escaped. “Everyone. It’s an all-house meeting, and I’ve got your mail captive to make sure you come.”

  Mim groaned. “Not again. How much improving does she think we need?”

  Miss Olive believed it was her duty as keeper of the boardinghouse to instruct her girls in the ways of the world, and she took her role very seriously. There were several activities the girls in the mills were required to participate in: work and church, and they were to avoid any activity meant to destroy one’s moral character.

  Mim plunked down in the most comfortable chair in the parlor and crossed her arms in annoyance. She was of the opinion that these meetings were generally a waste of time. She received the majority of her information from Godey’s Lady’s Book and would rather practice her man-catching skills than sit about in improvement circles.

  Miss Olive stood in front of the fireplace and began calling out names, handing out letters. The stack was down to a handful when she called out, “Briar.”

  “Me?” She never got mail. Everyone she knew was right here. Except Nanny and Henry. She took a deep breath, unsure of who she’d rather receive a letter from.

  New York City May 25, 1894.

  * * *

  Sweet Briar Rose,

  * * *

  I made it all the way to the Atlantic Ocean. My ship leaves tomorrow, so by the time you read this I may already be halfway to England. (A stone’s throw from Ireland.) From there I’m off to Germany to see if I look like any of my relatives. Hope number four is working for you.

  * * *

  Yours,

  Henry.

  “May twenty-fifth? That was more than three weeks ago. Where did he mail it from? Germany?” Mim said, reading the date upside down.

  Smiling, Briar folded up the paper, imagining Henry penning his letter, thinking of her.

  Ethel looked from the letter to Briar and smiled herself. “Good news, I take it?”

  Briar felt heat rising in her neck. She shrugged it off. “He’s started his adventure.”

  Miss Olive had finished handing out the mail and now stood, hands clasped, waiting for everyone to settle in. She had a big smile, which meant she was more excited than usual about today’s topic.

  “I will begin with a recitation from last September’s Outing Magazine, a poem from Madeline S. Bridges:

  The maiden with her wheel of old

  Sat by the fire to spin,

  While lightly through her careful hold

  The flax slid out and in.

  To-day her distaff, rock and reel

  Far out of sight are hurled,

  For now the maiden with her wheel

  Goes spinning round the world.

  Miss Olive gestured to the parlor door.

  The mill girls looked questioningly at one another, then simultaneously turned to the door as a woman in reform clothes strode in with a bicycle.

  Gasps sounded, followed by excited voices.

  Miss Olive raised her voice above the others. “Today is a new day for you girls. I’ve managed to make a little purchase for us to share, and I’ve invited a guest to teach us how to use the new safety bicycle.”

  Murmured excitement continued to spread through the room. Briar sat up eagerly. She’d always wanted to try riding a bicycle.

  “Hush, hush, we’ll all get a turn. First, let Miss Spence give us the basics of being a wheel woman, then we’ll take the vehicle outside and give it a try.”

  Mim stood, hands on hips. “No way. You can make me come to these meetings, but I’m not riding that thing.” She held out her full skirt as if to emphasize the ridiculousness of the notion.

  “You need yourself some bloomers!” called out Hettie, a sharp-witted weaver. She peeled with laughter at Mim’s shocked face.

  “Never,” said Mim. “You’ll never see me out in public in bloomers.” She sat down in a huff and said to the room, “You won’t either if you want husbands. Men don’t like women who push their freedom.”

  Ethel reached across Mary and pinched Mim.

  “Ouch. What did you do that for?” Mim rubbed her arm, which was already turning red.

  “If you don’t know, I should’ve done it harder. Be polite and listen up. You might learn something,” she whispered.

  Miss Spence continued on as if nothing had happened.

  “Bicycling will not only improve your health, but you will also come to recognize it as a freedom machine. I’ve recently come from Massachusetts, where I witnessed with my own eyes Annie Londonderry setting out on her bicycle to wheel around the world. Like Nellie Bly, who only a few short years ago traveled around the world unaccompanied, Annie Londonderry is demonstrating what the new woman is capable of achieving.”

  Heads nodded around the room. The male operatives had told them how much they like cycling. You didn’t have to ask permission to take the horse out, or spend so much time walking.

  “I will teach you first to get on the seat, to pedal, to turn, and to dismount. A bicycle is not as expensive as a horse. It is within reach of all of you, especially these new safety bicycles. They even have skirt guards on the back tire, although if you are serious about wheeling, I suggest reform clothes.”

  Everyone couldn’t help but look at Mim. She gave them all a grimace.

  The bicycle looked fun. If Briar had one of those, she could go back and forth to the cottage every night instead of living in the boardinghouse. She added the idea of purchasing a bicycle to her list of possible ways to keep the family together.

  “Susan B. Anthony says herself that the bicycle ‘has done more to emancipate women than anything else in the world. It gives them a feeling of freedom and self-reliance.’ Furthermore, ‘The moment she takes her seat she knows she can’t get into harm unless she gets off her bicycle, and away she goes, the picture of free, untrammeled womanhood.’”

  Miss Spence slapped the seat. “And even Frances Willard promotes riding the bicycle to help women to a wider world.” She paused and smiled at them one by one. “That is what you want, isn’t it?”

  Miss Spence’s sermon over, she clapped her hands. “Who wants to go first?”

  “If I’m to teach the girls, I’d better learn first,” Miss Olive said.

  In all eagerness, the mill girls filed out of the house and lined up along the porch. The sun had gone behind the mountains and the lamplighter had already started turning on the gas street lamps, creating scattered puddles of pale yellow on the dirt road.

  With Miss Spence holding the bicycle, Miss Olive gathered her skirts and hoisted herself onto the seat with a giggle.

  “Do as I demonstrated earlier,” admonished Miss Spence. “Your body’s natural sense of balance will take over if you do not hesitate. Push and don’t stop pedaling. The pedals turn with the back wheel so your feet will keep rotating with the wheel. If you need a rest, or you feel your skirts are getting twisted in the pedals, put your feet up on these coaster brackets.”

  And with that, the two women set off, Miss Olive laughing loud, and Miss Spence running to keep up.

  “She’s doing it!” called the mill girls encouragingly.

  “Keep going, Miss Olive!”

  Neighbors opened their doors to see what was going on, and soon it looked like a parade with people lined up on the street watching. Miss Spence was coaching Miss Olive on how to turn when the front wheel began to wobble. The girls held their collective breaths and watched. She straightened out and began cycling back confidently, breaking away from the attentions of Miss Spence.r />
  Suddenly she shrieked. “Look out, girls!” She drove through the middle of the crowd, the girls parting like the Red Sea as she plowed straight into the hedge at the side of the house with a crash.

  Miss Spence followed close behind. “Are you all right?”

  She leaned over the bike and the bush and pulled Miss Olive out of the greenery. She completed a quick inventory of Miss Olive’s condition, plucking a twig out of her hair before Miss Olive brushed her aside.

  “I’m fine. Really, I am. Girls, the wheel is marvelous. Who is next? I’ve shown you how not to stop, so now you can do what you are supposed to.”

  Several of the girls took a step back, looking for someone else to try first.

  Briar and Ethel looked at each other. “You go, Briar. I’ll catch you when you circle around.”

  Eager to try, despite Miss Olive’s mishap, Briar stepped forward.

  “Good for you,” said Miss Spence. She held the bicycle aloft.

  “Be careful,” Mim warned, “or you’ll fall and break your wrist and then where will you be? Unable to work.” She adjusted her hat and smiled at a gentleman walking by, who eyed the group warily.

  Briar copied how Miss Olive gathered her long skirts and arranged one foot on a pedal. She took a big breath and pushed off, leaning heavily toward Miss Spence. “Whoa.”

  “Straighten up, that’s it,” Miss Spence said encouragingly, holding Briar upright. “Steady now.”

  Briar concentrated on keeping her balance so she wouldn’t fall on Miss Spence. A few pedals in and she’d found her balance. Miss Spence let her go. “You’re doing it!” she called.

  Briar grinned as she rode down the road under her own power. What a marvel. She was getting the rhythm down and it wasn’t at all as hard as she thought it was going to be.