by Sarah Ellis
That was too much for Mrs. Braidwood, the weaver. “You’re not going to talk to those commissioners about the toilet!” she said. But Agnes put on her face like stone and said she was because there should properly be a toilet just for the women at the far end of the room so that we didn’t have to put up with the beastly behaviour of men.
I learned another verse of the poem today:
Not from the grand old masters,
Not from the bards sublime,
Whose distant footsteps echo
Through the corridors of Time.
June 11
Dear Papa and Mama,
Payday and I earned $1.60! We lined up at the paymaster’s desk and he gave us our wages. I signed my name in his book, which is on a high desk. The paymaster is a very cheerful man. I suppose if you give people money every week that makes them happy and then that happiness bounces back to you. When it came to my turn he asked me if I knew how to write. I said I did and then I made sure to sign my name most carefully.
Walking home with my coins in my pinafore pocket, I saw some schoolgirls skipping. I like to skip and for just a moment I wanted to be with them, playing. They had very pretty dresses. But then I looked down at the flowers on my pinafore and I jingled the coins in my pocket. They are just children, but I am a mill girl even if I do have to stand on the bobbin box to reach the desk to sign my name.
I wish that you could see what a person I have become. Perhaps you do look down and see.
Uncle James and I gave our wages to Auntie Janet, who takes care of paying the rent and buying what we need.
June 12
Dear Papa and Mama,
Today in church I suddenly missed Alice so much. I missed her sitting beside me. I missed sewing with her on Sunday afternoons. I missed talking about Sundew and Bladderwort. Auntie Janet is kind as can be. Murdo is comical. Agnes is fun. The weave room trio are nice enough, especially when we talk about the disappearance of Smokey. But they are not the same as one true friend.
June 13
Dear Papa and Mama,
Today was a vexing day. I suspect that Bladderwort is behind it all. I burnt the porridge and had to wash the pot and start over and a button came off my dress just as I was getting ready and I had to sew that back on and that made me later and later. Uncle James was impatient and left without us. Then, just as Auntie and I were at the top of Mill Street, I suddenly had to use the toilet, in a hurry. Home was closer than the mill so I said that Auntie should go on ahead and I would catch up. I ran as fast as I could, both directions, but when I got to the mill the bell was quiet and the door was locked. I looked up at the clock over the door. It was three minutes past seven. I remembered the rule. If you are late then the door is locked until ten minutes after seven and you lose pay. I felt very ashamed standing about waiting to be let in and having my name recorded. When I made it up to the spinning room Agnes winked at me, which was kind, but it was as if hobgoblins had invaded. One of the machines jammed, there seemed to be broken threads every minute, I could not keep up with the doffing and in our morning hurry both Auntie and I had forgotten our dinner pails. At noon I ran home to fetch them, but then we only had a few minutes to gobble down our dinner and all afternoon I felt as though I had rocks in my stomach.
Being in trouble this morning made me feel I was back in the Home. There, I was often in trouble because the little ones got into something. I hate being in trouble, but here at least I’m not blamed for somebody else. And at the end of the day, even though I am so tired, there is just Auntie and Uncle and me, and a different place to go.
Where is Smokey?
June 14
Dear Papa and Mama,
Smokey has reappeared. With kittens! She had made a little home for them in the wool bin. Between jobs I went to visit them. There are four of them. They are so tiny and dear. Their eyes are closed and their ears stick tight to their heads. Two tabbies, one plain grey and one with a bit of every colour that cats come in. The many-coloured one licked my fingers. Tomorrow I am going to bring a bit of cream for Smokey.
June 15
Dear Papa and Mama,
I am the happiest girl in Lanark County. I have a kitten of my own. Halleluia!
When today started there was no way to know that it would end so happily. Here is what happened.
Late this afternoon Smokey got herself caught up in the spinning machinery. I saw her first. I could see that she was tangled in the wool and that she was about to be hurt. I screamed out, but at first nobody heard me because it is so noisy. Then Agnes saw me jumping up and down and she came and turned off the machine. Mr. Haskin was there in a second, demanding to know why Agnes had turned off the machine. When she explained about Smokey, who had jumped down and run away by this time, Mr. Haskin was so furious that the tip of his nose went white. Then he said that cats are a nuisance and Smokey is to be drowned in the river. He said he was going to send a boy with a sack.
When Mr. Haskin left nobody needed to say anything. If Mr. Haskin would drown Smokey, who is almost an operative in this room, then what would he do with kittens? Mrs. Murphy found a basket. Agnes took off her apron. I collected the kittens from the bin. I found Smokey in her usual hiding place. We put them all into the basket. The multicoloured kitten didn’t want to go in the basket and she gave me a big scratch on my hand. Then Auntie Janet tied the apron securely around the basket and we hid it in the toilet. We were all hard back at work when Fred from wet finishing arrived with a gunny sack. Mrs. Brown, who is his aunt, told him to go put rocks in the sack and throw it in the river. She was very fierce.
There was a lot of cat complaining from the toilet for the rest of the day. Mr. Haskin did not show his face.
When the closing bell rang Auntie Janet looked at me and said, “Well, are we ready for five cats?”
How did she know, that I so wanted a kitten?
We walked home with Mrs. Campbell and Murdo and Kathleen. I carried the basket of kittens and Kathleen carried Smokey in her pinafore. She was good as gold. When we got to our place we took the cat and kittens around to the back where there is a little tumbledown shed. Murdo found a box and Auntie found an old piece of blanket. I fetched a saucer of milk.
I know that I want that patchwork kitten for my own. Mrs. Campbell says that she will find homes for all the rest because she is used to dealing with large families, but that they must all stay with Smokey for some weeks yet so that she can teach them how to be cats.
When Uncle James got home and heard the story he told us we were scallywags to bring home such a crew, but then went right out back to visit them.
My kitten will need a name. What? I could name him for what he looks like. Or I could give him a people name I like. Or I could name him after something I love. Patch? Adam? Butter?
June 16
Dear Papa and Mama,
I visited the kittens first thing this morning. They have their eyes open and I think the patchwork kitten knows he is mine. He looked right at me. As I watched Smokey giving them their breakfast I thought of the perfect name for him — Mungo. It’s a mill name. The barrel that holds the little leftover scraps of cloth is called the mungo barrel and that is just like him, a little leftover bit of a thing that might have been thrown away. I told Murdo on the way to work and he says the name Mungo is too much like his name, but I said that almost everyone can tell the difference between a boy and a kitten so it will likely not be confusing. Then he clenched his hands into paws and licked them and started to wash his face. He is the most comical person I have ever met.
June 17
Dear Papa and Mama,
At dinner I sat with Agnes and she told me one more thing about those commissioners who are coming. A worrying thing. She says they are looking for children who are working when they are too young. She says that girls are supposed to be fourteen years old to work at the mill. She says I am against the law. What must I do?
Mr. Boothroyd did not ask me one thing about how old I was w
hen he took me on. I did not lie. If I tell the inspectors the truth I will likely lose the job. And then I am sure I will have to go back to the Home. I cannot. I just cannot. I will lose heart if I have to leave Auntie and Uncle and Almonte.
I could say that I am fourteen. I am a tall girl for eleven. But I know that you would not care for me to lie.
I cannot tell Auntie. I do not want to burden her. I asked Agnes not to tell her. But what about Ann and the weave room trio? What about Murdo and the other boys?
I thought of the story of the magical cloak. I need to have the wisdom of the fairies, which is older than the beginning of the world, for I don’t know what is the right thing to do.
June 18
Dear Papa and Mama,
Payday and I lost ten cents from my pay for being three minutes late on Monday! Auntie said that she does not often agree with Agnes, but she does agree that locking us out when we are just a few minutes late is unfair. I thought that she would not give me twenty cents, but she did anyway so I bought liver for Smokey and a cotton hankie.
The kittens are growing fast. They make very loud noises for such tiny creatures. It is impossible to watch kittens and be downhearted so I have decided to put the commissioners’ visit out of my mind. Everything in the town is getting ready for the big Jubilee celebration. I walked by the Agricultural Grounds this evening and there was a band practising marching and men were building arches over Mill Street.
There is an ongoing story in the newspaper. It is called “The Haunted Hotel” and it is by Mr. Wilkie Collins. It is about a woman called The Countess, who is a European adventuress with a “reputation of the blackest possible colour.” Auntie Janet said that perhaps it was not a suitable story for me to read, but Uncle James said that I was a sensible girl and he was sure I would stop as soon as it got unsuitable.
June 19
Dear Papa and Mama,
Today really was a sun day. After church Kathleen and Murdo and I wandered south along the river toward Appleton. We took bread and cheese. We found a shallow place for paddling. Murdo took his fishing rod, but he didn’t have luck catching any fish. Kathleen and I made daisy chains and then we looked at clouds. Moon-Shadow, Sundew and Bladderwort can change colours to make themselves invisible. Tree-bark brown, daisy-middle yellow, river green, new-grass green, kingfisher blue, air nothing. That’s why you never see them.
Kathleen asked me what I thought of Fred from wet finishing. I said I thought he was kind, and brave to disobey Mr. Haskin about the kittens. Then Murdo began to tease Kathleen, how she was sweet on Fred. I could see that Kathleen wasn’t in the mood to be teased so I got Murdo to stop by asking him what wet finishing was. By the time he had finishing telling me how the woven cloth is scoured and soaked and pounded and twisted and rolled between rollers he had forgotten about Fred. Then he wandered off and Kathleen and I had a good talk. She is sweet on Fred, but she thinks he isn’t sweet on her.
I love being lazy. I love being outside. I love the things there are — birds, trees, clouds, sun, squishy mud between my toes. And I love the things there are not — bells, clocks, machine noise, dust, supervisors, bobbins, ceilings.
I spent the evening embroidering a border on my new hankie. It is not quite beautiful enough to fool the fairies, but almost.
June 20
Dear Papa and Mama,
Tomorrow is the Jubilee! I can hardly wait. There seemed to be more hours in the day today, and more bobbins. I learned another verse of poetry to have something in my head rather than, “How many hours until tomorrow?”:
For, like strains of martial music,
Their mighty thoughts suggest
Life’s endless toil and endeavour;
And tonight I long for rest.
June 21
Dear Papa and Mama,
Today was a day that I will remember for the rest of my life. It was sublime. If Queen Victoria had been in Almonte she would have been amazed. One of the important men who gave speeches said that nowhere in Canada was the Jubilee celebrated with more loyalty and enthusiasm than in our town of Almonte.
I will try to give you a pencil picture of the day, but even if I were Mr. Wilkie Collins I could not tell you everything.
I woke up early. Auntie and Uncle had a lie-in, but I could not sleep in on such a day. Even by first light the town was crowded with people, all cheerful and dressed in their finest. Some country people from the north came in on the train at three in the morning! The streets were like a place I had never been, a magic place. It dawned bright and sunny and flags were flying from all the buildings, snapping in the wind. Over the street, arches were decorated with greenery and flowers. Chinese lanterns and streamers hung everywhere. I felt as though two eyes were not enough eyes for looking.
Some of the country people asked me for directions and of course I knew where to go and I stood outside myself and looked at myself and thought, “She’s an Almonter.” I felt proud — of Almonte, and myself and Queen Victoria and the whole British Empire!
At six o’clock in the morning every bell in town began to ring — all the mill bells, and we didn’t even have to go there. At the same time there was a gun salute from Bay Hill. All that hubbub must have woken up Auntie and Uncle and all other slugabeds.
I went down to the Agricultural Grounds to see the parade getting ready and there I met up with Murdo. It was grand. Murdo wanted to get close to the steam fire engine. The firemen kept shooing him away, but just in a jolly way. There were masses of school children, mostly dressed in white, carrying little flags. Murdo picked up a flag for me and I was glad to have it to wave for Queen Victoria. When the parade was about to start Murdo suddenly grabbed my arm and dragged me away. He told me he had the best secret place to watch from. We ran through the crowds. A field of people. The best place turned out to be a tree. Murdo gave me a boost up and then I gave him a hand up. There were two very comfortable branches to sit on. Queen Victoria herself could not have had a better view. (But I don’t think she climbs trees because Queens probably are not allowed to, and anyway, in the picture in the newspaper she looks like a very plump person.)
Every shining brass instrument in the whole of Lanark County must have been in Almonte that day. From a tree you can see right down into a tuba. There were certainly a lot of strains of martial music. There were banners with gold fringes and tassels. They said Victoria’s Jubilee and Canada Our Home There were satin uniforms and hundreds of school children. Murdo nearly fell out of the tree when the fire engine rolled by, pulled by four huge shiny horses. Horses look very beautiful from a tree as well. There was a wagon with a Singer sewing machine on it and someone was actually sewing as it moved. There was a threshing machine and a binder and a Gatling gun, all being pulled along.
Odd thing. When the steam engine came by I found myself looking around to make sure all the little ones were safe, as though I were still at the Home, and minding them. Then I remembered that I’m not minding anybody except myself.
After the parade there were sports and contests at the Driving Park at the far end of the Agricultural Grounds, and when all the people went that way it was like a flooding river turning in its course. On the way we met up with Auntie Janet and Uncle James. Uncle James was in a teasing mood and kept saying that he was going to be a rich man later in the day and all because of Her Majesty Queen Victoria and he wouldn’t tell us what he meant.
We watched the baseball until the Almonte Evening Stars beat the Carleton Place Mississippis and then Uncle James wanted to go to the cricket. I think cricket is a dull game for the watchers. The only amusing thing was that Auntie Janet noticed that the umpire for the Almonte team was Mr. Flanagan and when she pointed him out to Uncle James he said, “My goodness, he has legs!”
I knew exactly what he meant. Mr. Flanagan seems like a person who only sits at his desk in his office at the mill. We sat on the grass and made daisy chains.
When it came time for the races we found out that Uncle James was goin
g to enter the half-mile foot race, which was open to all. Before he went to the starting line he kissed Auntie Janet, right in front of everybody, and she said, “Run like the wind.” There were such a lot of runners that we couldn’t see the race for dust and crowds, but Uncle James must have run like the wind because he came in second and won a prize, which was four dollars. Four dollars! In just a few minutes. Auntie Janet said he should give up weaving and become a race runner and Uncle James said, “God bless Queen Victoria!”
In the evening there was a concert with bands and choirs. The whole town was illuminated and it was like fairyland. Uncle bought ice cream for us and all the Campbells with his new wealth. At the end the band played “Rule Britannia” and everyone sang and it was as grand as a speeding train or a great thunderstorm. I couldn’t hear myself sing and yet I felt my voice was as big as all Almonte. Then there were fireworks, but I cannot write about one more thing. Uncle James said it was a “Calithumpian good day.”
June 22
Dear Papa and Mama,
After the Jubilee everything seems flat. We looked forward to it for so long and now it is over.
Today it rained and all the decorations got soggy and Almonte went from looking like fairyland to looking like any damp place. I wonder if Queen Victoria is feeling a bit let down herself? It must be quite something, knowing that all over the Empire people are having a party for you and then the next day you just go back to work. I’m not quite sure what Queen work is, apart from leading us to a higher plane of civilization. (That’s what one of the important men said in a speech.)
Mungo’s eyes have changed colour from blue to green and he has learned to purr. He is the prettiest kitten. I wonder if Queen Victoria is allowed to have a kitten in the palace.