Running to Waste: The Story of a Tomboy

by George M. Baker

The “council of war” that night deliberated long and earnestly on the question which Becky laid before that body. Harry opposed, Mrs. Thompson hesitated, Becky was resolute.

“I hate to oppose you, Harry, who have been so good to me. But I can earn money there; and it’s high time I did something for the support of the family.”

She had taken the precaution to win Aunt Hulda and her mother to her side before submitting her plan to the others. Aunt Hulda, whose admiration for Becky sometimes was unbounded, had been first consulted. This mark of confidence had won all that remained of Aunt Hulda’s heart, and she readily acquiesced, as she would have done had Becky proposed to shingle the church. The mother had read in the sparkling eyes of her daughter, now so very dear to her, the earnest desire to work and earn, and could not, if she would, disappoint her. Thus thrice-armed in a just cause, Becky met her councillors, and bore off the victory at last.

With these stipulations: she should give just the time daily which had been occupied by her school duties to rag-picking—no more. She should perform her household labors as usual, and be ready at other times for out-door exercise at the will and pleasure of Harry Thompson. His consent could be gained on no other terms. Mrs. Thompson was doubtful of the influences which might be brought to bear upon Becky at the mill, yet could not but admire the spirit she displayed. She hesitated on Becky’s account a while, then smilingly gave her vote in favor of Becky, and the field was won.

The next morning found her at the mill equipped for dusty labor. Mr. Small received her kindly, made a satisfactory bargain with her, and she at once entered upon her duties.

The paper mill was composed of three buildings; the main section, comprising the business office, the machine-room, the pulp-vats, and the bleaching-tubs, was built of bricks. At right angles with this structure, and attached to it, was a flat-roofed wooden building. In the lower story of this were stored rags in bags; from this room they were hoisted to the second story, where they were sorted, then taken to the main building to be bleached. At the end of this building was a low, slant-roofed stable. In the sorting-room from ten to a dozen females were usually employed; and to this section of the paper mill Becky was assigned.

To no pleasant work did Becky set her hands; in no very pleasant companionship did she find herself. With the exception of Jenny York, the “girls” were middle aged and old women, loud-tongued, and very apt to be quarrelsome. At first Becky tried to make friends with all of them; but, finding her overtures met with rudeness, she desisted from further attempts, and drew the closer to the little cripple.

As time passed on, and she grew familiar with her labor, stronger grew her friendship for Jenny. These two made a corner of their own, a little removed from the Babel of tongues. Jenny, rejoicing in the companionship of one so near her age, was always bright and happy. Becky, catching the inspiration of her cheerful spirit, overflowed with mirth and humor, and oft-repeated stories of tomboy adventures made them both merry over their work.

But Becky never lost sight of her independence. She worked gaily, but she worked with a will; and the sight of her wages when Saturday came was a reward of merit dearly prized. Steadily she worked through the hot months of summer, until she could count ninety dollars in her strong-box; and then a sad disaster befell the mill.