The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1916-11-23
The Defiance OF ABIGAIL
BY Lillian vANDEVERE.

lion seemed dawning in her eyes.
'Tll do tt" said this domestic Joan
Of Arc suddenly, espousing her own
cause for the first time. "Pve looked
long enough at that rusty bed and that
silly picture. Tn going to have a pref
ty room If 1t is in this little oven of
a place, where you couldn't ask
neighbor to sit down with a bit of
sewing"
And the room merited no more than
Abigails terse description. An an
cient print of three angelic figures
Faith, Hope, and Charity, was the only
picture; in front of the one window
was splint-bottomed rocker, and be-
side 1t an old-fashioned chest of
drawers with clock on it, A bowl
and pitcher were crowded on rick
ETY. stand, and in one corner was the
bed. That was a constant 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. A
smile trembled on her lips, then Il 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
with Hiram and Ellen in the valley of
unrest" she thought YEARLY. "This
mOnotony is choking mew
"Are you set on going to the Bap-
fist picnic at Buttonwood on Tues
day?" Ellen asked her at supper. 81
don't think therell be room for you
in the wagon. Wen stay over night at
Horace Fitchs and go shopping with
his folks on Wednesday, so you hadn't
better go. I've asked little Hilda Barr
to stay all night with you"
at would be a 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
rs she washed the dishes. "They
won't be home till Wednesday evening,
| guess. 'dlda and l will have plenty
to do. Three years I've been mere,
and not bit of my company have l
had. Now I'm going to give a little
sewing bee and spread all my own.
III use my own dishes and a little of
my own money, so Ellen surely can't
grudge me the use of the house."
The picnic day was ideally cool and
clear as the Turner's drove down the
grassy lane. Abigail turned swiftly
into the house. She changed her
wrapper for a white gown with tiny
black sprigs, took her best sunbonnet
from its hook, and hurried down the
road in the opposite direction to that
pursued by the picnic party.
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 q CLEAN of gay calico.
Under one arm was can of walnut
stain. A hurried skirmsh into her old
clothes, and the battle began. De-
liberately he commander locked her.
self in her room.
When Hilda Barr ran into the
Turner kitchen on Wednesday morn
ing, there were signs of approaching
festivity, and Abigail, lifting a tin of
sponge cake from the oven, gave no
word of welcome till the burden was
on the table.
"Well child, what did the folks
say?"
They're all coming, and they
seemed real pleased. Now I'll pick the
berries for you"
In the glory of the sunset, Ellen and
Hiram drove into the yard. The chill
dren rode on to the barn, but Ellen
walked across the yard. There was a
murmur Of voices from the dining
room, but something unusual in the
aspect of the little room drew her at
tention. The bed and chest of drawers
gliStened with q new mantle of bril-
lance. The rickety stand showed a
walnut luster. A white geranium sat
on the window SILL and the rocker had
a cushion of bright calico.
"That's Mis- HIS voice. said FL
the dining-room, land there's Mabel
Bosworth's laugh. What does it
mean?"
General laughter followed some re-
mark, and, all unobserved, Ellen stood
at the door. One glance told who
were the guests. Then her critical eye
scanned the table, noting the dainty
slices of chicken, the biscuits on
fringed napkin, the delicate berries
anu white-capped strips of golden
cake. Then her eye went to the head
of the table to the hostess place.
In some recess Of trunk Abigail
had found gray gown of quaint
style, but there was a glimpse Of
creamy lace at throat and wrist as
she served the coffee, and the flush of
exhilaration on her thin face spoke
volumes to the one observer.
"She has careG-she was lonesome !"
was the thought that throbbed in FL
lens heart and warmed it for all time.
Good evening, ladies! Tn real glad
to see so many of mothers friends"
Her voice startled the guests, but
the cordially in 1t made AbgaiPs
face glow with thankful surprise. One
look at Ellen convinced her. A joy
full freedom had begun, ind Ellen
n,,ipp with a nntn pf priIa n