Linnea Cunningham stared at the walls of the doctor’s office. The room was cold and white and as the doctor asked her questions she responded mechanically. Absentmindedly she fiddled with the small silver locket that hung on a string around her neck. She’d been here so many times before and always he said the same thing. You really need fresh air. The mills are only making you worse… Then he would tell her that she should quit, that there was nothing else he could do and that getting out of the mills soon was the only way to make her better. But leaving the mill wasn’t an option. She was alone in the city and the only way for a girl to make money in the city was to work in the mill. The boys sold papers, the girls made cloth. That was how it went. Another coughing spell hit her then…this one not quite as bad as the others. Still she was shaking by the time it was over.

“Linnea? Linnea did you hear me?”

“Sorry sir. What did you say?”

“I said here’s some medicine and that if you start getting worse you are to come to me immediately, do you understand?”

“Yes doctor. Thank you.” She took the bottle of yellowish liquid from him and started for the door.

“And Linnea?”

“Yes sir?”

“Do yourself a favor…don’t go back to the mill.”

Linnea merely smiled a weak smile and left the office. Once back outside in the biting wind she wrapped her scarf tightly about her neck and face and bent her head into the wind. Her lunch break was almost over and if she didn’t hurry, she wouldn’t make it back in time. She broke into a run, her lungs burning with the effort. She reached the huge brick building just in time and hurried inside with the other girls, all of them laughing and joking as they made their way up to the various rooms. Linnea, however, didn’t talk. The run to the mill had left her breathless and coughing and she had no energy to talk.