The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1893-04-29
Selrrt Story.
THE DEACON'S WIFE.

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with her husband and many Others to at
tend the annual convocation of their church.
While she rested in her room after the
morning session she heard conversation,
which interested her, between two men on
the veranda just under her window.
Through the half open blinds she recog-
nized one of them as John Bates, sturdy
farmer delegate, who had shown much
good sense in the few words he had spoken
upon one of the resolutions in the business
meeting.
Whether farming can be made to pay
or not depends good deal upon the sort
of wife man has, Deacon Bates was say
ing, and this was the sentence which ar
rested Mrs, Bradley's attention.
If he has to run the farm and the house,
too, and depend upon hired help he can't
lay up anything. One of my neighbors is
in this fix; his wife don't know how to
work herself; she trusts everything to help
and spends her time gadding about.
Things 90 at skies and sevens; their butter
is the poorest in the market. | am sorry
for him. believe l have the best wife
in the country myself, he went on, tipping
back his chair against the house and clasp
inc his hands over the back of his head; she
beats everything there is going for work.
She tends to everything herself; is up at
daylight and sometimes before, and her
butter is tiptop; we get the biggest prices
going. She's splendid cook too; | need
never to 90 away to get good victuals now,
| tell you. Well, the fact is, she is as
smart as steel trap at anything she takes
a hold of. She makes all her own clothes
and most of mine and boards the farm
hands and once in a while takes some city
boarders. | never would have been so
forehanded if it had not been for her.
And she's always at home summer and
winter; | don't believe she's been off the
place only to go to church this twenty
years.
Poor drudge Mrs. Bradley exclaimed
to herself as the dinner bell put an end to
tie conversation.
It so happened that in the course of
that summer Mr.. and Mrs. Bradley, wish
ing to find comfortable quarters for few
weeks in the country, near enough to the
city so that Mr.. Bradley could so in and
out conveniently, were directed to Berk-
shire and to the house of Deacon Bates.
1t was not until she was seated at the
table in the cool diningroom of the Bates
family one July evening, that Mrs. Brad
ley identified the deacon as the man with
an extraordinary wife, Mrs. Bates did not
look in the feast like the busy bustling
worker Mrs. Bradley had pictured. She
was small, pale woman with gray hair
and wistful brown eyes. Her low spoken
words were few. and her manner apathetie,
as if life had lost its flavor if it ever had
any
During the next two weeks Mrs. Brad
ley had opportunity to prove that Deacon
Bates had spoken truly of his wife. Her
house was model of neatness, her victuals
were truly delicious, and each day she
turned off an amount of work, assisted
only by one other pair of hands, which
was truly incredible, A working machine
Mrs. Bradley thought as she watched the
tread mill round of skimming milk, churn-
ing, dressing poultry, washing, ironing,
cooking, and washing dishes, beginning at
sunrise and not by any means concluded
at sunset.
Sometimes in the twilight the tired
woman rested few minutes, then Mrs
Bradley, pitying the narrow life, would
try to awaken her interest in an article in
the newspaper, or bit from book, bu
the weary listener usually nodded in tn
midst of it.
One evening after tea as Mrs. Bradley
wandered abou the place, she came upor
Mrs. Bates, who was out under the apple
tree engaged in picking chickens.
You are at it early and late, aren't you
Mrs. Bradley said as she watched the swift
fingers travel over the plump chicken.
heard that you were perfectly remarkable
but l had not imagined that one so per
sistently industrious existed.
You heard that of me Mrs. Bates ex
claimed with more interest than she had
ever before displayed. How could you
1t was when the convention was held
at Berkshire. ] overheard your husband
sounding your praises.
Mrs. Bradley hoped at last that she had
found key to open this closed heart, as .
gleam of surprise flashed for an instant on
the worn face of the farmers wife, so she
! exerted all her power Of pleasing; she