The Seamstresses

"Assistant? How about co-seamstress."

Prudence giggled at this and then put a hand to her mouth. "If that's what you want. First, let me alter your dress so it fits better. I need you to stand on this stool so I can take measurements," she said.

Samantha did as she was told, standing on a stool in the center of Prudence's workshop. Prudence went back to the windows, closing the curtains except for a crack. She lit a fire in the hearth, dim orange light filling the room. "Could you take off your dress, please?"

Samantha shrugged off the oversized dress and shivered in the sudden cold. Not knowing what else to do with her arms, she crossed them over her chest. From off a table, Prudence picked up a measuring tape. She started with Samantha's waist, sighing at the low number.

"Have you ever wanted to live in a place where you could tell jokes or sing a song or read a book?" Samantha asked.

"Those are wicked things to do."

"No they aren't. There's nothing wrong any of those. Do you do everything the reverend tells you?"

"He's like a father to us." Prudence measured Samantha's neck, tightening the tape until Samantha choked. "Sorry. You should be grateful to the reverend for letting you stay."

"I am. But if he's so great, why does he need a creep like Mr. Pryde and those dogs of his?"

"You shouldn't talk like that. Mr. Pryde keeps the bad things out. He keeps us safe."