She rushed back to her room. What could she do? The damage was done. If only she had known what was going on when she was in the agent’s office, how that vile man was lying. Oh, the agent was quick to believe him. When I cried out, it was I who was made to seem in the wrong! I was unladylike. That was my crime.

She wrote the letters in a fury, burning herself with sealing wax, her hand was shaking so. She rushed out of the house, her bonnet ribbons loose, her shawl flying. By the time she got to the Acre she was out of breath and could hardly ask the children playing in the streets where Brigid’s house might be.

The first child she asked looked up with wide, frightened eyes and ran away without speaking. She stood long enough to tie her bonnet properly and catch her breath before asking another. He pointed dumbly to a shack that turned out not to be Brigid’s house at all, but the housewife inside knew Brigid and gave Lyddie proper directions.

Brigid herself answered the door. “Oh Lyddie, what have they done?”

“I’m dismissed,” Lyddie said.

“No, it cannot be.”

“It can’t be helped. It’s done. But they must not dismiss you. I’ve already written a letter to Mr. Marsden. I told him if he dismissed you or bothered you in any way I would tell his wife exactly what happened in the weaving room. Now here is the letter addressed to her. If there is any problem you must mail it at once.” Brigid stared at her, mouth open. “At once. You must swear to me you will.” The girl nodded. “And now, I’d like to sit down if I could.”

“Oh, I’m terrible rude.” Brigid stepped aside and let her into the tiny shack. The smell was strong of food and body sweat. It was dark, but Lyddie could see children’s eyes large and staring. “Me mother’s housecleaning today.” Brigid picked up a pile of what looked like rags, but might have been clothing, off a rough stool, and Lyddie sat down gratefully. She was still tired from last night. Tired as she had been after her sickness, her bones aching with it.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Where will you be going? Not far from here, I hope.”

“They didn’t give me a certificate, so I have to go.”

“And it’s all me fault.”

“No, you musn’t blame yourself.”

There was no place else to sit except the beds, so Brigid stood, watching her. In the darkness of the room, the only noise was the rustle of the children shifting, staring.