Twelve year-old Madison Hunt watched in horror as a small girl with dark brown hair, who had forgotten to pull her hair back, was yanked into the thread machine screaming and twisting. The main factory policy was displayed in the front of the working room: Always tie long hair into a bun with provided hairnets. Many young children still neglected to follow this rule, which provided a serious disaster in the making. As the secretary and foreman worked to free the child from the machine, Madison offered up a silent prayer. She hoped she would soon be free from the factory; it was nothing to her but a trap of wicked tyranny. Little did she know how soon her wish would be granted.

After they had taken the girl away from the mechanism, the foreman, with an emotionless face, took the employer aside. The girls strained their ears as he explained in hushed tones that the children would be laid off from work at the factory; there was no money to pay them. The words “depression” and “dough” were used multiple times. A select few who had been helpful in the workroom were told to report to their jobs Monday morning. Madison, who had spent much of her time helping younger girls and neglecting her task, was not among them. Many of the little girls, and even some of the older, more experienced children, were shocked at the sudden notice. The newly founded “elite” class of machine operators smirked at the group who were being shooed out into the street.

“The money! Where is it?” asked the landlady as Madison entered the tired old boardinghouse. “Mr. Hunt’s beer prices have been unpaid for three weeks,” she added firmly, “They will be added to the rent money at the end of this month.” Madison sighed. She cared no more for her father than for the extra money he made her earn, one way or another. Her pay at the end of each month at the factory totaled only six dollars; Father's drinks and the tenement room cost ten. When she asked for jobs around the house, Ms. March, the housekeeper, would scratch her scrawny chin and answer, “It’s a depression, honey, an’ God knows where my spare change is.” Madison had come up two dollars short this month. Now, as the due day crept closer, she struggled to earn enough money to pay the fees. Her father had helped little excepted to make trouble for her. The loss of her factory job, added to the increased threat of being turned out of their room, was too much for Madison. When the day arrived, there was not enough to pay the debts.

That night, Madison tossed and turned, knowing it would be her last in a suitable bed and a roof over her head for a long while. She and her father must pack their meager possessions and leave by noon tomorrow. There was no way out of it.

Madison’s father had gone to bed in a drunken orgy, occasionally swearing in his sleep. She muttered her own swear under her breath, cursing her father for his wicked ways. Perhaps, tomorrow, she might offer her services near the train station, where the wealthy got off to stay in fine hotels and dine at graceful restaurants. Surely someone would offer her a paying job.

The next morning, Madison walked along the streets to the train station. She crept up to the burly conductor, who looked large enough to be a small giant. “Sir?” she asked, trying to catch his attention. The conductor, although tough looking, was not unkind at heart. He turned his bushy round face towards the thin timid voice. “Yes?” Madison crept closer.

“Might I wait and try to find a job?” A tear slid down her face. “M-my father and I—we were put out on the…” The conductor's bushy brow furled sympathetically. “Of course you can, girl, Just stick around and keep me company. Don’t run off with the food and clothing I give you, like one young fool I knew.” Madison smiled wanly. She thanked the conductor then walked up to the train platform. “What of you father?” he asked.

“When will the train come?” she queried, avoiding the question. The conductor laughed at her hurried expression. “Not for another hour, and even then the train hoppers already on board will be employed before you.” Madison frowned. “Why can’t I ask amongst the passengers before them?” The conductor shook his head.” Most of those men have families to support,” he explained, “It wouldn’t be fair to have a youngster take their opportunities from ‘em without so much as a by-your-leave.” Madison’s face twisted as she tried to come up with a counterargument. “Conductor...are you not going to chase them off the train?”

“I’ve a bit of kindness in me, as most conductors do,” he replied, “We aren't all run of the mill stereotypes.”

They talked like this for a long while, until finally the long, hollow whistle of a train sounded in the distant fog. Madison jumped up in excitement. Her chance was coming, literally, towards her. Her back tingled with an unfamiliar sense unknown to her in all her days of working in the factory. Her entire future was riding on that train.

A stream of people trickled out of the compartments, forming great crowds on the surface of the platform. Men and women pushed and shoved one another, trying to ascend the steps to the ground in an orderly fashion without losing their acquaintances in the throng. Madison scrambled this way and that, explaining her predicament and requesting politely for a task that paid wages. Most turned away in disgust, irritated at being asked of such a thing by a small, dirty looking girl in cheap, ragged clothing.

Madison walked heavily towards the end of the platform, dejected. She had raised her hopes to the horizon, forgetting the boundary between the rich and poor. These passengers were residents of stately mansions; they need not worry about money and wages. One did not need a working class girl in the midst of the depression when they had fine butlers and maids, trained from childhood to serve them effortlessly.

She was on the verge of tears when, out of the din created by the crowds, a throaty voice called, “Little girl!” Madison turned around in surprise. “Pardon?” she asked of a well-off woman with soft, envious blond curls and wide blue eyes. “I hear from my dear butler James,” she drawled, “that you are in need of a job. Of course, darling, I have got one, if you like.”

Madison’s eyes lit up. “May I hear more about this job, ma’am?” The woman smiled; her voice dripping with honey, she clarified Madison’s new employment. “My son is a dreary boy, so drab; he absolutely must have a friend or two besides his young cousins.” The woman nodded towards a stately looking boy, who appeared to be slightly older than Madison herself, in the distance. “You will be well treated, of course,” she stated after a moment’s hesitation.

The conductor looked on from a few feet away. He watched Madison’s face glow brightly amongst the passersby. The conductor’s own bulldog-like face stretched into a wide grin as he saw her walk away with the woman. His work was done. Madison had found her paying job and was happy. The golden strands of sunlight illuminated her face, giving him a soft, peaceful feeling.