The daily telegram. [volume] (Clarksburg, W. Va.) 1901-1926, 1914-05-05
CHATTER TX.
A June sunday.

Z
CHATTER TX.
A June Sunday.
1T was Sunday in June, and almost
the whole population Of River
boro and Edgewood was walking
or driving In the direction Of the
meeting house on Tory hill.
Church toilets. you may well be.
lieye, were dlficult OF attainment by
Deacon Baxter's daughters, as they
had been by. lis respective helpmates
in years gone by. When Waitstill's
mother first asked her husband to buy
her a new dress. and that was two
years after marriage, he simply said:
"You look well enough. What do you
want to waste money ON fnery for,
these hard times? If other folks are
extravaganza that amt any reason you
should be. You amt obliged to take
your neighbors for an example, take
'em for q warnin'le
But, Foxwell, my Sunday dress is
worn completely to threads" urged the
second Mrs. Baxter
That's what women always say.
They're all alike, no more idea O. saw
in anything than a skunk blackbird!
can't spare any money for geYgaws,
and you might as well understand it
first as last. Go up attic and open the
hair trunk by the winder, you'll find
plenty there to last you for years to
come"
The second Mrs, Baxter visited the
attic as commanded. and in turning
over the clothes in the old trunk knew
by instinct that they had belonged to
her predecessor in Office. Some OF the
dresses were neat, though terribly worn
and faded. hut all were fortunately
far too short and small for person
of her fine proportions. Besides, her
very soul shrank from wearing them,
and her spirit reyolted both from the
insult to herself and to the poor dead
woman she had succeeded, so she came
downstairs TO darn and mend and
patch again her shabby wardrobe.
Waitstill had gone through the same
experience as her mother before her,
but In despair when She was seventeen
she began to cut over the old garments
for herself and Patty. Mercifully there
were very few Of them, and they had
long since been discarded. at eighteen
she had learned to dye yarns with yell
low oak or maple bark and to make
puppies from elder and suniac berries;
she could spin and knit as well as any
old AUNT" of the village and cut and
shape garment as deity as the Edge
wood tailoress, but the task OF making
bricks without straw was hard one
indeed.
She wore a white cotton frock on
this particular Sunday. 1t was starch
ed and ironed with a beautiful gloss,
while touch of distinction was given
to her costume by a little black sleeve
less roundabout made out Of the Gov
ering Of an old silk umbrella. Her
fat hat had single wreath Of coarse
daisies around the crown, and her
mitts were darned in many places.
Nevertheless you could not entirely
spoil her; God had used a liberal hand
in making her. and her fathers parsi-
mony was a sort of boomerang that
few back chiefly upon himself.
As for Patty, her style of beauty. like
Cephas Coles ell. had to be toned down
rather than up to be effective, but cir
cumstances had been cruelty unrelent-
ing in this process OF late. Deacon
Baxter had given the girls three or
four shopworn pieces of faded yellow
calico that had been repudiated by the
village housewives as not fast enough
in color to bear the test Of proper wash
ing. This had made frocks. aprons,
petttcoats and even underclothes for
two full years, and Patty's weekly OBJ
jurgations when she removed her ever
lasting yellow dress from the nail
where 1t hung were not such as should
have fallen from the lips OF a dea-
cons daughter. Waitstill had taken a
piece of the same yellow material,
.starehed and ironed 1t. cut curying,
circular brim from 1t. sewed in plait-
ed crown. and. 10, nat for Patty.
What inspired Patty tc, put on waist
sibbon OF deepest vile color, with
little band of the same on the pale vel
;ow hat, no one could say.
no You think you stall like that
dull red right close to the yellow, Pat
tyr" Waitstill asked anxiously.
ut looks all right on the columblnes
In the Indian ceiIar," replied Patty.
turning and twisting the hat on her
head. III we can't get. a peek at the
Boston fashions we must Just find our
styles where we can"
The various roads to Tory hill were
alive with vehicles ON this bright Sun
day morning. Uncle Bert and Abel
Day, with their respective wives on
the back seat OF the Coles double
wagon, were passed by Deacon Baxter
and his daughters, Waitstili being due
at meeting earlier than others By rea-
son OF her singing In the choir. The
deacon's one horse, two wheeled
shay" could hold three persons with
comfort on its broad seat. and the
twenty-year-old mare. although she
was always as hollow as gourd, could
generally do the mile, uphill all the