Middle West -- Fiction; Short stories, American; Villages -- Fiction
Then, when Silas said what was the next pleasure of the meeting, Mis’
Toplady mentioned that they needed carpet rags to make up some rugs for
two-three places, and who could give some and help sew them? Mis’ Sykes
said she could, and Mame and Abigail and me and some more offered up,
and Mis’ Toplady wrote our names down, and, “How about you, Gertie?”
says she to Gertie Ricker.
Gertie looked scairt for a minute, and then my heart jumped pleasant in
its socket, _for I see Absalom nudge her_. Yes, sir, he nudged her to
say she would, and all of a sudden I knew that he wanted his wife to be
taking some part like the rest was; and she says, faint, “I guess so.”
And when Mis’ Sykes asked round, Mis’ Haskitt and Mis’ Henning said they
didn’t have much of any rags, but they could come and help sew the rags
of them that did have.
“So do,” says Mis’ Toplady, hearty, “and we’ll meet to my house next
Tuesday at two o’clock, sha’n’t we? And have a cup o’ tea.”
“What else is the pleasure of the meeting?” says Silas, balancing on his
toes as chairman-like as he knew how.
Then on the second row from the back, who should we see getting up but
Bess Bones. I hadn’t seen her come in and I’d forgot all about her. Her
hat was on one side, and the plume that was broke in the middle was
hanging idle, not doing any decorating; and I could see the other ladies
thinking with one brain that ten to one she’d been drinking, and would
break out singing in our very midst. But she hadn’t nor she didn’t. Only
what she said went over the room shrill, as her singing voice was.
“For the land’s sakes,” says Bess, “if you’re goin’ to hold protracted
meetin’s in this hall, why don’t you clean up the floor? I never see
such a hole. I motion I come in an’ scrub it up. I ain’t no thousand
dollars to subscribe, but a cake o’ soap’ll keep you from stickin’ to
the boards.”
“Second the motion!” says I, all over me.
And even Silas broke down and smiled like he don’t think no president
had ought to do. And everybody else kind of laughed and looked at each
other and felt the kind of a feeling that don’t run around among folks
any too often. And when Silas put the motion, kind of grudging, we all
voted for it abundant. And Bess set there showing pleased, like an empty
room that has had a piece of furniture got for it.
I dunno what it was that minute done to us all. I’ve often wondered
since, what it was. But somehow everybody kind of felt that they all
knew something each other knew, only they couldn’t rightly name it. Ab
and Joe Betts, Mame Holcomb and Eppleby, Gertie and Mis’ Toplady and
me--we all felt it. Everybody did, unless it was Silas and Mis’ Sykes.
Silas didn’t sense nothing much but that he hoped the meeting was going
to run smooth, and Mis’ Sykes--well, right in the middle of that glowing
minute I see her catch sight of Mame Holcomb’s new red waist and she set
there thinking of nothing _but_ waist either with eyes or with mind.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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