The Vermont watchman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1883-1911, 1897-01-27
SELECTED STORY.
An Old Tool.

1t was "Division night" at Blacl
Rock. Deacon Purdy and his wife ga,
in the homely kitchen of their ole
house on the Black Hill Road, as they
had done on Friday evenings for years
awaiting the return of the girls y
from the village. There had been q
time when they were as punctual in at
tendance upon Division, az actively
concerned in all neighbOrhood matters
as any. But it was long now since
they had been beyond their own door.
stone. The deacon had grown old and
asthmatic. Rheumatic fever had seized
upon 4" Ma Purdy," as all her acquaint-
ances called her, and left her a helpless
invalid, with limbs, once straight and
fine, distorted and stiffened, and hands,
fashioned fer all womanly offices,
crooked and rigid. But the face that
smiled above the bent shoulders was
radiant with something stronger than
pain, and in its presence compassion
was turned into reverence infinitely
more tender than pity.
This evening deepened lines in the
worn face upon which the lamplight
shone told of suffering keener than
usual. The knitting, with which the
twisted fingers sometimes strove to
busy themselves at the cost of great eff
fort and cruel pain, had dropped to the
floor. The patient eyes were closed
for several minutes. All this the dea-
con, furtively watching from behind
his newspaper, saw with distress for
which he had no expression. The 81
lence hurt him, but he could not break it..
Presently the submissive eyes opened.
"'Tain't much use tryin' to study
out the Lords ways, is it, Pa? But
don't it seem queer he leaves such USE
less truck as me here 30 long, jest to be
waited on an tended to, an no good to
anybody" :.
6Don't talk like that, Ma; faint
right" was all the deacon could say.
Then, with awkward gentleness, he be-
gan to stroke the poor left hand which
bis wife called her baby" because it
was more troublesome and required
more care than the other.
well, / don't know as tits right"
said the old lady. 81 s'pose He knows
what's best, an amt got no call to
complain, not understanding His rea-
sons; but seems's if wouldn't mind
the pain 80 much if could ever do any
thing to be of use. An can't help
a.wonderin' sometimes what it's all for.
But therel faint likely I'll find out by
wonderin' an guessing. An anyway,
here comes the Children, an 'twon't do
to let 'em find me a-frettin'."
The childrenl Sarah and Lucy
Purdy, were grave, middle-aged wom-
en-, who came in a few minutes later,
having put up the old horse and buggy
with their own capable hands.
An air of suppressed excitement, as
they took off their cloaks and bonnets,
showed that they had something of
more than common interest to tell this
evening.
Lucy was the first to speak.
"Mis' Reeds got the craziest notion
into her head ever heard Of"
"Eh?" said the deacon. What's
that?" He still;retained lively inter-
est in the doings of the neighborhOod.
why, she's goin' to raise money
for new Temperance Hall by holdin'
an Old Folks Concert-not one o.
them believes, like we read about
in the paper last week, but real Old
Folks Concert, 'thout any young folks
in it, at ALL"
eyes, interrupted Sarah; she says
we been talkin' about buildin' hall
long enough, an now we must begin to
build. An if we amt got the money,
we must jest raise it. faint 80 easy
to raise money as some folks think"
sSarah gave an expressive sniff. Mrs.
Reed was the leading woman in Black
Rock, the one person who had the rep
utation of being able to "make things
CO." and without whose support it was
thought nothing could succeed. But,
somehow, she always irritated Sarah
Purdy, who could not account for her
superior influence, and rather resented
it.
"It's time we had decent hail."
Mrs. Reed had said that evening in
Division, rising in her quiet, deter
mined way, and turning her eyes
slowly about the old school-hOuse,
where the meetings were held in lack
of a better place. 1t was dingy, de-
pressing room. The evening was wet,
and the air within was heavy with
steam from drying coats and boots, and
thick with smoke from three badly
trimmed kerosene lamps.
"We're all agreed to that, an have
been this long time; an we all know
that the only way to get it is to stop
talkin' an 60 to dom something. It'll
take money, an we've got to raise that
money ourselves, for there amt nobody
goin' to make US handsome dona-
tion,' like they do in books. Most
folks round here amt got the money tC
do it, an them as has, amt that kind OF
folks" Here every one thought OF
"old man Hopkins" the only rich man
in the neighborhood. He was moi
"that kind" On the contrary, he ha6
repeatedly declared that he "wa'n'
goin' to put penny into no sect
blame foolishness as a Temperance
Hall"
"Well," she went on, "when people
want to raise money they centrally give
an entertainment, real good one