"Fluff," repeated Bessy. "Little bits, as fly off fro' the cotton, when they're carding it, and fill the air till it looks all fine white dust. They say it winds rounds the lungs, and tightens them up. Anyhow, there's many a one as works in a carding-room, that falls into a waste, coughing and spitting blood, because they're just poisoned by the fluff."

'Little bits, as fly off fro' the cotton when they're carding it, and fill the air with fine white dust. They say it winds round the lungs. There's many a one as works in a carding-room, that falls into a waste, coughing and spitting blood, because they're poisoned by the fluff.'
