By the next morning, I'd regained my strength.

When we got to the shop, Bea asked me to lay out the materials for the day.

"I was just about to."

When Bea raised her eyebrow, I amended "yes, miss."

One of my tasks was to baste seams, and I quickly whipped through the seams that were set out.

Madge picked them up to inspect them and put one back on the table. "Re-do that side seam, Pippa. It's crooked."

"It looks fine to me."

"It's not fine—do it over."

I took it up, a bit huffily, snipping the threads quickly. But my scissors slipped, and a hole appeared in the fabric. I gasped involuntarily.

"What have you done?" Agnes was at my side, and I shoved the garment under the table.

"What have you done, Pippa?" Madge demanded. "Give it here."

I slowly brought up the garment. "I didn't do anything."

"You're telling me this hole was there already? We'll have to re-do this piece, and we haven't any of this material left, it was special order. Why must you be so careless, Philippa?"

The whole workroom was looking at us as if we were a show put on for their benefit, which angered me. Why couldn't everyone mind their own business? "It wasn't my bloody fault! The—"

"Madge, Philippa." Miss Beatrice's voice, quiet but slightly chilly. "Step into my office."

Bea had barely shut the door when Madge shoved the fabric in Bea's face. "She ruined this perfectly good piece. Cut a hole in it with her scissors, she did!"

"They slipped! And then she lit into me like a bloo—"

"Thank you, Madge, I'll handle this." After Madge had hesitantly left, Bea said "sit down."

Her tone left no room for argument. "I'll not have you speaking that way to Madge, Philippa. It is absolutely not allowed. If you do so again, I will dock your wages. And, should you ever use that tone with me... you'll be in serious trouble."

This was the lecture I'd expected last night, the same tone, anyway. I bit my lip to keep back tears; in one minute, I'd gone from boiling angry to meek.

"Do you understand?"

"Yes miss."

"Back to your work, then."

I went slowly, wanting some reassurance that she wasn't completely angry with me, that she was still the same caring woman I lived with, but she went to her work. No, not even a smile as she bent over her books.

Bea was talking to Tilly, Agnes, and Madge toward the end of the day. They'd finished discussing a few business matters and were chatting as they put the papers away—the other sewers had left already. "Girls, I don't know quite what I should do with Philippa. I'm afraid she's getting a bit stroppy and impertinent."

"Oh, you mean today? It wasn't nowt," Madge defended.

"It certainly was something. She's been that way at home as well as the shop—at home, it's not so much a problem, but I can't have it at the shop."

"My ma wouldn't stand for that when I was her age," Madge said. "I'd've gotten a strapping for sure."

Bea gave a tiny gasp. "I can't whip her!"

"Why not? Didn't you ever Evie? You raised her, didn't you?" Tilly put in.

"Well, I did once or twice, a hairbrushing."

Tilly added, "It might not be done much in your class, but Pippa wasn't raised that way. 'Round where we come from, whippings are an everyday thing."

"And when I spanked Evie she was very young—a child."

"And Philippa's one as well," Madge declared.

"She should be treated as a young woman, though—she's fifteen. She can't get into much trouble, yet, at her age."

"At her age," Agnes said, "I had a boyfriend I'd sneak out with, and we'd snog behind the shed."

Madge joined in. "My boyfriend and I would go to the shows—you know, the ones with—" she giggled "slightly immodest dress."

"Well, Philippa hasn't a boyfriend, so I needn't worry on that account."

"When I was fourteen," Tilly said, "my girlfriends and me were out behind the school smoking. Just the once, mind, because we got caught and strapped."

"And once," added Madge, "When I was thirteen, I went with my girlfriends down to a pub and we each had a few. Got rather hammered, so of course our mums found out. We all got it."

Bea's eyes were wide. "Well, you've certainly not helped me. It looks as though I have a lot more to worry about than I realized!"

"Oh, Pippa's a good girl." Madge tried to encourage Bea. "She wouldn't do nowt like that."

"I hope you're right."

After that lecture, I was shy toward Bea. That couldn't be bad, though, considering the way she'd spoken earlier. Heaven help me if I should ever speak that way to Bea.

After a few weeks, though, that feeling had worn off, and I was feeling familiar toward Bea. She teased me at times, but I couldn't quite tease back. I did laugh a lot, though.

We worked together well, keeping the house neat. Jack was back, but, if anything, he just added to our merriment. Bea peeked her nose in my room, where I was reading. "Philippa, while I'm out at the market, I want you to sweep the carpets." She swept out of the flat.

I continued reading, but the book was so interesting that the next time I looked up was when Bea opened the door again. "The carpets haven't been done." It was half question, half statement.

"I forgot. I was reading."

"I told you to do it while I was gone, but apparently you can't remember that long." Bea's patronizing tone made me upset.

"I can remember—if I want to." I hadn't meant it to sound like that, like I'd done it on purpose, and I tried to recover, but only messed it up further. "Maybe I'd remember if you didn't demand it of me and not give me time to answer."

Bea paused, then raised an eyebrow. "Apologize for that insolence, miss."

"I'm bloody sorry."

Bea stood up, but I wasn't sure why. She took my hairbrush off my dressing table and sat back on the bed. "Over my knee." Until she said that, I wasn't sure of her intent.

"Miss Eliott!" I was quivering now, and wouldn't have considered using the word "bloody," all my audacity gone.

"Do as you're told."

I was paralyzed, unsure of what to do. I couldn't disobey my employer and the woman who was keeping me. But could she punish me?

"Philippa!" I moved quickly, legs resting over the bed. Bea lifted my skirt and petticoat and began to bring the brush down. Hard. I whimpered a bit; my mother had switched me, but it had been a few years since, and I'd forgotten the sting of a spanking. Pretty soon I couldn't hold back the tears.

As soon as Bea stopped, I scrambled up, hiding my face and the tears. She pulled me over next to her, enveloping me with her arm. After a moment, I put my head on her shoulder. We hadn't said anything, and I didn't feel like it.

"I hope this drives my point across that we'll have no more of that," Bea said, but her voice was kind.

"Yes, miss. I won't do it again. And I'm sorry."

"I accept your apology, and we'll speak no more of this."