The Vermont watchman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1883-1911, 1895-09-04
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outside. 1 d'know how tits, but ] be
outside"
His voice was pitched il the high
note of age as he went on; "Your
mother always said 1 was q real sociable
man, Lyddy."
"Do you want me to sit down m
spend my time talkin' with your"
Mrs. Simpson put this inquiry with
some scorn. She went on: eff you do,
l en- tell you I've got my work standin'
round waitin' to be done"
"'Tain't that" said Mr.. Little6eld,
" but I'm outside"
Lyddy turned away with her broom.
She took her implement into the back
porch, which she swept with much
vigor. She hadn't any patience with
her father when he told her he was
" outside" What did he mean? Out
side of what? She had a feeting
thought that she would try to go with
him to that convention, but she didn't
see how in the world she could do it.
There was always butter to make, if
nothing else.
Three days later, when the morning
came, she had given up all such inten-
ton, if she could be said to have had it.
But, as she fastened her fathers neck
tie, she did say to him that she would
go if she "wa'nt driven to death"
The old face above her looked so pleased
and grateful at these words that Lyddy's
heart gave q curious, quick peat of
something like pain.
"I'm mighty glad you thought of it,"
he said.
She watched him walk down the path
to take the depot wagon.
"He's a real good-lookin' old man, if
he is my father" she said to herself.
"Old gentleman's quite chirk, amt
he?" said Zenas, with a laugh. Lyddy
did not know why the tone and the
laugh grated so upon her.
"Mebby he'll be maxim up to some
gal over to the convention" remarked
Zenas, chuckling.
Mr.. Littlefeld conversed affably with
the three other people in the depot
wagon. They were going to Gurley to
the convention, but when they arrived
they separated themselves from him.
After Mr.. Littleield had taken his
place in the church, he bent his head
forward to the back of the pew in front
of him, and repeated in a whisper the
petition to the Lord for a companion.
The repeating of this prayer seemed
to put the maker of it in good spirits.
He rose with agility to let a woman pass
into the pew, for the people were be-
ginning to come in fast now.
When he sat down again he stroked
his moustache; then he turned and
looked at the woman sitting a few feet
away from him. He pretended that he
was gazing beyond her at something
tho Othpr aldo IF tho phuroh
He noticed that her gray hair wal
wavy, and he thought it was pretty.
She had a dark face, with lines and
wrinkles all over it; but for all those
lines and wrinkles it had a certain fresh
appearance. AS he watched her she
bowed and smiled, greeting some one
who came into the seat opposite. The
smile seemed to warm Mr.. Littlefield's
lonely heart. He sat up erect. He
wished he knew some way to get intro
duced. He remembered his prayer.
1t might be that it was the Lords will
to answer it favorably.
When the hymn was given out the
oma found the place and handed
the book to the old man He took it
with a trembling hand. He was in
wardly glad that he had shaved off that
long gray pearu.
He tried to hear the speaking by the
different ministers, but his mind wan
dered in a vague, pleasant way, and he
found that he could not follow their
words.
At noon tickets were given to the
people from out of town to the resi-
dents. Each ticket bore a name and
address.
These conventions were a gener-
ally hospitable time among the Bap-
fists.
Mr.. Littleield took his bit of PASTE
board, found the right street and the
right house, and when he reached the
yard he flung up his head and walked
smartly up the path.
He could not help a little start when
the dark woman with the gray hair
opened the door to him. Then he
gathered himself up and said gallantly:
81 guess Pm in luck this time to git
sent here"
The two sat alone at the dinner table.
After the first cup of tea they began to
talk.
Does anyone call youth frank? There
is nothing like the frankness of age,
and nothing like age for the asking of
leading questions.
AS he stirred his cream and tea MI.
Littlefeld inquired:
els your husband living?" Mrs. Tate
looking steadily down into her teacup
as she answered:
"The Lord took Mr.. Tate five years
ago the 18th of last February. He had
old-fashioned consumption. He was
sick a long time"
"It must have ben real wearin' to
you, Mis- Tate"
Mr.. Littleield spoke with JUNCTION.
The years seemed to roll off him. To
sit opposite this woman, and talk with
her, while he drank excellent tea and
ate an excellent dinner, was having the
effect of a miracle upon him.
"'Twas wearin'," was the response,
/" but the Lord helped me to bear it,"
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