The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1916-10-03
EVENING STORY
The Defiance of Abigail.
(By Lillian Vandevere.)

back and forth, and daring resolution
seemed dawning in her eyes.
I'll do ito said this domestic Joan
of Arc suddenly, espouslng her own
cause for the first time. I've looked
long enough at that rusty bed and that
silly picture. I'm going to have a pref
ty room if it is in this little oven of a
place, where you couldn't ask a neigh
Dor to sit down with a bit of sewing"
And the room merited no more than
A bigail'S terSe description. An ancient
print of three angelic figures-Faith,
Hope and Charity, was the only pic
ture: in front of the one window was
a splint- bottomed rocker, and beside it
an old-fashioned chest of drawers with
clock on it. A bowl and pitcher were
crowded on rickety stand, and in one
corner was the bed. That was con-
slant source of modification. The
pillows stood erect. the crocheted
spread was neat but the bed itself was
very shabby.
1t was only the tiny room off the
kitchen, but as she looked it van
ished and the bed stood in the cool
upper chamber of the house where she
and Joel had started life together. She
was putting up ruffled curtains, and
he kissed her fingers when she reached
for the hammer. She saw the look
on his face when he tiptoed in to see
her and their first son. A smile
trem bled on her lips, then a hot breath
came from the kitchen and she rocked
faster.
"Joel's been lying up on Mount
Peace for three years, and I've been
here with Hiram and Ellen in the val
ley of unrest" she thought YEARLY.
Maybe my eyes are a trifle dim, and
1 do spill things sometimes. The
hens in the babys aprons were a lit
tie crooked, StIll-" She looked at
the pile of working shirts and stock
ings Ellen had given her after that.
'-Ellen's family lift her life, and the
struggle to care for them has put two
deep lines in her forehead and made
her lips thin and set This monotony
is choking me,'
; Are you set on going to the Bap-
fist picnic at Buttonwood on Tues
day." Ellen asked her at supper. Il
don't think there'H be room for you
in the wagon Drusilla Blake wants to
go, and We'll stay over night at Hor-
ace Fitch's and go shopping with his
folks on Wednesday. so you hadn't bet
ter 60 I've asked little Hilda Barr to
stay all night with YOU
1T would be hard trip" replied
Abigail, quietly. Maybe some of the
neighbors will run in to see me-, Down
| in her heart she chuckled. I'm glad
they don't want me- she thought as
she washed the dishes. They won't be
home till Wednesday evening l guess
Hilda and l will have plenty to do
Three years I've been here, and not a
bit of my company have I had Now
I'm going to give a little sewing bee
and spread all my own. I'll use my
own dishes and a little of my own
money, so Ellen surely can't grudge me
the use of the house. Let's see-who'H
| invite?" she asked herself eagerly
There's Mis- Drake; she's lent me
magazines. 1 won't forget her. Then
there's Mis- Hill. She speaks kindly
every Sunday and wrote to me when |
was sick. OF course Mis- Barr if
Hilda helps me- And the teacher too,
Mabel Bosworth is uncommon kind to
Hiram's children and their Grandma
Turner won't forget it,
The kitchen in order Abigail sat
down on the back porch to finish the
list of guests.
Eldora Bassett can come as well as
not If she is rich now, we went to
the Pond Hill school together and it's
| a long time since we visited. I'd he an
old maid yet if I'd had to chase Joel
the way she tagged after Ephriam
Bassett when he got his money. Well,
l had good husband. and it's none
of my business how she got hers. 1
guess six is enough for nv first VEN
ture. I'll write some notes. so HiIda
can trot round with them in the morn
/ ing
The picnic day was ideally cool and
clear as the Turner's drove down the
grassy lane Ellen called back final
directions to Abigail:
There's pie on the second shelf
In the pantry and cookies in the
brown crock. Use the cream in the
blue pitcher for berries" One can
afford to be generous when one is
bound for a picnic.
Abigail nodded, then turned swiftly
into the house.
! Its not food that bothers me now:
| it's my room I'm looking after Well.
Abigail, now OF never,'
/ She changed her wrapper for
white gown with tiny black sprigs,
| took her best sunbonnet from its hook
and hurried down the road in the on
posite direction to that pursued by the
picnic party
only mile to the village." she
painted at the top of the first little
\ hlil, and l must be smart and get
lot done today
An hour later she stepped on the
back porch. tired but triumphant. The
handle of a little paint brush stuck
out of one parcel, and where another
/ was torn there was a gleam of CAV
calico. Under one arm was a can of
walnut stain. A hurried skirmish into
her old clothes. and the battle began
! Deliberately the commander locked
herself in her room
This was the minute gun of the lit
tie revolution. and. secure in her fort
ress, one timid old lady defied the
domestic powers that were. The only
sounds in the little room were the soft
pats of brush, varied by signs and
l Scripture verses, as Abigail alternately
remem bered her rheumatism and re-
newed her faltering courage Later
4 even these sounds ceased. They were
replaced by the squeak of the little
I rocker.
I When Hilda Barr ran into the Tur-
| ner kitchen on Wednesday morning
| there were signs of approaching fes-
| tivity. and Abigail, lifting a tin of
| sponge cake from the oven, gave no
| word of welcome till the burden was
on the table.
We'll, child, what did the folks