Little Doffer Girl
As I was stringing another thread that had come loose from the mill, Mr. Johnson brought a little girl by her collar to me.
"Here" he grunted, "show the little one how to do doff the machine. She's no good, the little runt."
I nodded, and held out my arms to the girl, beckoning her to come. Johnson thrust her at me and turned to yell at Mattie, who was rubbing her hands so she could move them.
"What's your name, dear?" I said loudly, so she might have the chance to hear me.
"Clarissia." She yelled back. "But you can all me Clare."
"Ok, Clare. Did anyone show you how to change the threads?"
"Yes, but her hand got cought in that big part there, so i don't know how to buckle it down."
She was talking about Samantha, who died about a week before her 13th birthday. She was my best friend. We shared everything...
"But you know the rest?"
"Yesum', I sure do."
"I'll show you how, but let me tie your hair up good, or else youll end up like Samantha."
"And how's that?"