Bread and Roses, Too by Katherine Paterson Read Free Book Online Page A

thought for a moment that she might faint and realized, if she were to, she'd never fall to the street. There was no room. She was suffocating. She had to get out of this trap of bodies. She had to go home.
    Then someone began to sing:
"
Like a tree planted by the water,

We shall not be moved.
"
    Another voice shouted, rather than sang, "Let him call out his militia!"
    "
We shall not be moved,
" the marchers responded.
    "Let them shoot and stab us," another voice said.
    "
We shall not be moved.
"
    And everyone around her was singing now:
"
We shall not be, we shall not be moved.

We shall not be, we shall not be moved.

Like a tree planted by the water,

We shall not be moved.
"
    The singing went on and on. Above it, she could hear the bull horn-amplified demands that the crowd disperse. There were occasional scuffles when someone tried to work his or her way through the marchers toward the mills. "Scab! Scab! Go home!"
    Eventually, Rosa could feel that the crowd had loosened its grip on her. She began to ease her way sideways until she was able to slip out of the crowd and into a side street, where she found herself suddenly looking up at the dark brick exterior of Newbury Street School.
    She was panting, not from running—she hadn't run at all—but from the exertion of working her way through the mob. Her heart was pounding, and despite the snow, which swirled about her and almost obscured the school building, she was sweating as though it were summer.
    Later, she wondered why she had done it, but at the moment the school represented safety, and unlike the marchers whose courage had nearly suffocated her, she wanted to be safe from those soldiers with their fixed bayonets that stabbed and, who knew? might shoot children.

    "You're tardy, Rosa," Miss Finch said as Rosa crept into the classroom.
    Rosa ducked her head in apology and slid into her seat. There were only a handful of students present. The native-born and the Irish were there, except for Joe O'Brien, but not many of the children of the unskilled workers, the ones who would be on strike. The class was in the middle of their arithmetic lesson. Fortunately, arithmetic came easily to Rosa, and although she had no textbook, she had been able to keep up by listening carefully to Miss Finch's explanations.
    When it was nearly time for the dinner bell, Miss Finch said, "There is, as you no doubt know, a large, unruly mob on Canal Street. I suggest that when you go home for dinner you avoid going in that direction no matter how curious you might feel about the activities taking place today. The crowd is dangerous. Some are undoubtedly armed. If you are wise, you'll remain in the safety of the school building this dinner hour, as I will myself. But since some of your parents may be expecting you home, I won't prevent your going. Just stay away from the mill area and try to stay out of trouble."
    Rosa hadn't thought about what she should do at dinnertime. Would anyone be expecting her home? Granny J. was probably there with baby Ricci and Mrs. J.'s little boys. But she'd have to go back on the street to get home. She got up and started for the door only to be stopped by the teacher's voice calling her name.
    "Rosa."
    "Yes, Miss Finch."
    "You were absent Friday afternoon. Do you have an excuse for that?"
    "No, ma'am."
    The teacher stood up and came to where Rosa waited. "You must not let your parents—your mother, rather—keep you from school. You understand that, don't you?" she said softly.
    "Yes, ma'am."
    "I hope you were able to persuade her not to strike."
    Rosa just hung her head. Miss Finch's shoes were almost new—leather boots laced tight. Her feet would never feel the snow leaking through the soles.
    "Rosa, I'm speaking to you, dear. Look at me, please."
    She raised her eyes to look at the teacher's pale face pinched in disapproval. It was thin, but had Miss Finch ever known real hunger?
    "Are the people in your family a part of this terrible strike?"
    "They're