Jack of Hearts by Marjorie Farrell

her.
    “This is Peter Brill, Anne,” Joseph told her.
    “Pardon me? I can’t hear anything.”
    “This is your foreman,” Joseph said loudly.
    “It is a great honor to have you visiting, Miss Heriot,” the foreman said. Or at least that’s what Anne thought he said. She certainly hoped so, as she replied, “The honor is mine, Mr. Brill.” Please God she had heard his name correctly. How did anyone survive the noise? she wondered as they started down the aisle.
    In addition to the noise and the frightening speed of the shuttles, Anne realized that what had seemed to be a haze in the room was actually a cloud of lint.
    She had noticed some men and women with handkerchiefs tied around their faces, and now she understood why, as the particles in the air tickled her nose and throat.
    When they reached the end of the loft, Brill motioned them outside and shut the door, which cut off the noise a little.
    “As you can see, Miss Heriot, your workers are happy and productive. And very well paid, I might add,” said Brill, with an unctuous smile.
    Anne wasn’t sure how he could tell they were happy, but she certainly had the impression that they were swift and efficient, and supposed they would have to be reasonably content to achieve that.
    “I thought I might surprise them all and order the machines shut down for a minute or two. Mr. Trantor says you have a small Christmas bonus to announce?”
    “I do, but perhaps I could see the carding shed first?”
    Brill didn’t seem to have heard her. Opening the door, he gave a hand signal and all of the machines stopped.
    The silence was almost disconcerting after all that noise, thought Anne. She assumed that after a time her ears would have become accustomed to it. Clearly her workers had had years of this, so the silence was probably nothing to them at all.
    Although everyone’s eyes were upon her, no one had moved from behind their machines, so Joseph led her forward a little.
    “We have the honor of a visit from your employer.”
    There were a few lifted eyebrows, but for the most part their faces remained expressionless.
    “She has a few words to say to you.”
    Anne’s knees suddenly felt shaky, and her throat felt even drier, if that were possible. Just as she was about to open her mouth, she felt a tickle in her nose. She wrinkled it quickly and lifted her hand, but she was helpless before the sneeze.
    “God bless tha, miss,” called an old man two rows down from her, and everyone laughed, breaking the tension.
    “Thank tha, sir,” she said with a smile. “Soom of tha may remember me, for I visited t’mill when I were fifteen. But that was more than a few years ago,” she added with a smile. “I have been keeping t’accounts of the Heriot mills for many years. When I looked at this year’s results, I told Joseph I wished to pay another visit and thank tha for all tha hard work.”
    Many of the men and women smiled proudly, but there were still a number of faces that were unresponsive. Anne was sure her next words would change that.
    “I told Mr. Trantor that I wanted to do something to honor my father’s memory and reward you. There will be a small bonus added to tha Christmas pay envelopes.”
    There were certainly more smiles and the old man who had said “God bless tha” added another one. Yet still some of the workers looked at her expressionlessly and Anne, feeling puzzled and a bit hurt that she hadn’t been able to reach them, found herself adding something she had not intended to.
    “I also have heard some sad news—that a young child suffered an accident a few weeks ago. I intend to pay an extra bonus to that child’s family.”
    Anne could feel Joseph’s disapproval, but the nods of approval from the workers in front of her convinced her that she had done the right thing in mentioning the accident.
    “We should let everyone go back to work, Miss Heriot,” said Brill. “We don’t want them to ruin their production rate now, do