“Mother, could we not do a little shopping today?”
“At the fag end of the week? What are you talking about? Certainly not. Besides, thy father is worried about the meeting this afternoon. He says more may come of it than we can dream of.”
“How is that?”
“Why, Katherine, it might end in a factory here, or it might end in the weavers heving to leave Annis and go elsewhere.”
“Cannot they get work of some other kind, in, or near by Annis?”
“Nay, tha surely knows, that a weaver hes to keep his fingers soft, and his hands supple. Hard manual work would spoil his hands forever for the loom, and our men are born weavers. They doan’t fashion to any other work, and to be sure England hes to hev her weavers.”
“Mother, would it not be far better to have a factory? Lately, when I have taken a walk with father he always goes to the wold and looks all round considering just like a man who was wondering about a site for a building. It would be a good thing for us, mother, would it not?”
“It seems so, but father does not want it. He says it will turn Annis into a rough village, full of strangers, with bad ways, and also that it will spoil the whole country-side with its smoke and dirt.”
“But if it makes money?”
“Money isn’t iverything.”