"I heard a woman in the restroom say Selestina had collapsed and was taken away in an ambulance,” Mavis said.
"That's pretty much what happened,” Harriet told her. “Everything seemed fine when she started her lecture then all of a sudden, down she went."
"She got real pale,” Carla added.
"Well, you never know. Maybe she has a bad heart. When Lucille Graham had her attack last summer, she was at church. We stood up to sing a hymn and down she went like a sack of potatoes."
Mavis glanced at her watch. “Looks like things are under control here, so I guess I'll get back to dyeing. I'm not sure when we'll finish. We've only got a little more to go on today's samples.
"We'll meet you back at the Tree House,” Harriet said. “It won't surprise me if we run over, given today's disruption."
Mavis left, and Patience reappeared with a quilting bag that looked like it had been hand-made, using a lavender pre-quilted fabric and with wooden dowels for handles. She pulled out a large wooden hoop that already held a muslin fabric sandwich.
"Success in hand quilting is all about your wrist motion,” she began.
She proceeded to demonstrate how to insert a threaded needle into the hooped fabric and, with a gentle rocking motion and correct thimble placement, create a small, neat quilt stitch. She soon had the class practicing their own stitching, and proved to be a competent teacher.
The room was silent except for her words of encouragement as the students strained to master their new skill. Harriet looked over at Carla, who was biting her lower lip as she concentrated on her work. She had completed half of the first feather they had drawn on their fabric. Her stitches were small and very even, and her needle moved up and down in the rhythmic motion Patience had demonstrated.
Harriet looked at her own work. Her stitches were uneven, and she'd only completed the first two curves of her feather. She readjusted her hand position, trying to imitate Carla's movement. Her needle jumped out of the fabric, and as she grabbed for it, her thimble fell off onto the floor. As she reached for it, a hand touched her shoulder.
"Here,” Patience said, and dropped the escaped thimble into her palm. “All right everyone. The last technique we need to learn is the quilter's knot. Gather around the front table please."
The class assembled, and she showed them how to make the invisible knot used to start a new thread when hand quilting. She created a small knot by threading a needle, holding the tail end of thread parallel to the needle and coiling the body thread three times around it. Then she pinched the coils of thread against the needle with one hand and pulled the needle through the coils with the other hand. The result was a small neat knot at the very end of the thread.
To start stitching, she dipped the needle into and then out of the quilt top then gently tugged the quilter's knot through the top layer of fabric.
"Remember to stop while there is still enough thread on your needle, so you can pull the remainder between the two layers of fabric and bring the thread to the surface again away from your last stitch.” She demonstrated as she spoke. “Then, you simply clip off the excess thread and you'll have buried the thread below the surface. Pull the thread a little before you cut it, and it will retract back through the surface."
She pulled on her fabric, and to everyone's amazement, they could no longer see the thread.
"A well-executed knot will be strong, yet no one will know it's there-a sufficiently buried end thread will not return to the surface. Return to your stations, stop wherever you are and make a quilter's knot. Take a few stitches then bury your thread."
Carla sat down and, on her first try, buried her knot without a trace. Harriet's knot disappeared, but when she ran her finger over the spot where it had been she could feel a lump. She sat back with a sigh. As the owner of Quilt As Desired, she was paid for her skill as a machine quilter, and fortunately, that was a technique she did very well. Besides, if she really needed something hand quilted, she apparently could call on Carla.
"Oh, my goodness,” Patience said. “Where has the time gone? Thank you all for bearing with us today. I'm sure Selestina will be back teaching before we know it.” She turned to go then stopped and turned back. “Don't forget there will be a pottery exhibition in Building A starting at six-thirty."
Harriet put her hooped piece on the table and started clearing her space. Carla made a few more tiny stitches then buried her thread. She held her work in front of her and looked at her perfect feather.
"Look at that,” Harriet said, leaning closer to look at the even stitching. “You may have found your true calling here. Good work."
Carla's face turned so red, Harriet was afraid she was going to have to call the paramedics. “Thank you,” she mumbled.
"Let's go see what the others have been up to,” Harriet suggested.