Neighborhood Stories

get a-hold of two cakes for the next meeting of the Go-lightly c

ve you got r

h I love the human race and admire to see it took care of, I couldn’t sense my way clear to taking a boy into my house. Boys belongs to the human race, to be

“Not t

asant laugh, fringed all

ays, “we a

ver rent to ’em. They ain’t got enough silenc

elf looked up innocent and to

oggy home?

k mat.” I felt kind of glad I didn’t

grave, “to fluffle it

nd he trotted round the ho

the boards, and we saw the little fellow bend over and pat Mac, my water spaniel, as gentle as if he’d been cut

“would you want to

. But I give a guess your price is

wonderful, nice-spoken little man, with the kind of eyes that look like

off for their baggage, and I went off for my cakes; and what they was reflecting on I donno, but my own reflect was that it’s a wise minute can t

was an agent, selling “notions, knick-knacks and anything o’ that,” he told me; and he use’ to start out a

“don’t your little boy get wore to the b

“but I carry him

nd tote that heavy knic

hat I’m always thinking is this: Wha

ys I, and couldn’

out, I’d invited Mr. Dombledon to leave the little fellow with me, some days

ust one thing: Would—would you promise not to le

I’m what-you-might-say cross. Not syst

al flattering. “But don’t leave him

. I like,” I says, “to get ou

think I’m real particular. But—would you pr

I, “only when

is kind of gentle voice without any sizin’ to it, “but I mean n

e you can’t in society. And I actually looked forward to having the little thing a

e blueing, and she was sitting at one end of my cook table when Donnie came trotting out with his father, that always preferred the back door. (“It feels more like I lived here,” says he, wishfu

ing, “you just set here with us and see me make c

father go off without him, nice as the nicest. “I likes ’em wiv buttins,” he says—and Mi

thought of them being—though you forget that they ain’t, and you forget everything but loving ’em. But it was like this little boy was the way you’d meant. It wasn’t so much the way he looked—though he was beautiful, beautiful like some of the thi

of sorry, to Mis’ Puppy. “But you can have

r his soldier say Hurrah the minute he was baked, if you please—and she kind of move

s’pose his m

’d be{232} setting over there kissin

e real what you might call a widower. He ain’t the air of one that’s had things ciphered out for h

id seem sort of quick-moved and hopeful, more like wh

bout his not hearing anything spoke cross; and she nodded, l

reamy, “what I’d of been like if nobody had ev

we’d be like if we’d never

’t it? The two fits togethe

let him out pitty quick?” says Donnie, trying to see how nea

ather went agenting; and then the fifth day he had to take him with him, because there

the name as being so literal, grievous-true as to our powers and, same time, airy and happy sounding, just like we hope we’ll be clear up to the

’ Lockmeyer had said, that don’t really enjo

ne, kind of gentle and final, “

eyer, “we got to go awf

em principles into

be the Go-lightly club, account o

of this club shall b

dues. No real r

supper w

me had insis

lothes or no

we was looking forward to it considerable. We’d put it off several times; one week the ice-cream sociable was going to

to set the pan-cakes.” And when we got outside the City limits—we’re just a village, but we’ve got ’em marked “City Limits,” because that always seems the name of ’em—Mis’ Pettibone, that’s a regular one for entering into things—you know some just is and some just ain’t and the

ng-ki

ream trickling along; and

ng-ki

stream trickling along, and

ndness—oh,

tune, and most of us was brought up on it and has been haunted by it for days together from bed to bed, we

e into a real road, and then it got paid for, and the toll part stopped; and now the City rents the house—there’s a place{236} we always say “City” again—to

se now, I wonder?” says Mis’ Pe

in on itself—my land,” she says, “the door’s open.

and somebody was just going to get

king, as’d make a regular person. A person, but not one that looks well and happy the way “person” means to you, when you say the word. She had on a what-had-been navy-blue what-had-been alpaca, bu

livin’ here?” Mis’ Lockmeyer is like that—she always w

iled a little, and when she smile

m. It—it don’t look r

s’ Pettibone, “get

woman, “I bee

ends and pull her foot out, planted th

sew anything? Or wash an

anything I can do home, with my little girl

is’ Lockmeyer soothing, and h

ell you what. We’ll be out to see yo

rom the inside with the light fair showing through all the pores like little windo

each other folks are, no matter how not-like they s

says I, hearty. And I g

Our ideas always set in our heads to a parlor-meeting, called to order by rapping on something. But here at Mis’ Elkhorn’s we were out in the sitting-room, wi

hen we got to sitting down, sewing, it was like some ki

all drawn work and hemstitching and embroidery. And somehow Mis’

dn’t think you could get a bit of ho

er lips so tight

continual, same a

tibone, tart, “I guess I can do

re it don’t show,” says Mis’ Puppy,

?” snaps Mis

uppy, “only to them that t

as born a wife and a house-keeper,” say

e-keeper, Mis’ Pettibone

the bed where we’d laid our things, and cried; an

ut, the first thing we heard was Mis’

eap as the best ain’t any of an ice-cream judge,”

ut cheap,” says Mis’ Wilme,

Lockmeyer, “I thou

ust mentioning, you can’t,” says Mis’ Wilme

is goin’ to impress me,” says Mis

, humorous, “nobody can make it a

nd went to talking about Cemetery; and it looke

own,” says I. “When we go up there to walk on Sundays, I declare

ity she said she had eighty{241} on her calling list. ‘Well,’

ays to my husband when I looked over the Daily the other night: That most of the Lo

in a place so long that you know all the graves. We ain’t got much else to be arist

ake it so pointed to us that ain’t lived here so very long,” s

ndulgent, “of course there’s t

Elkhorn come in from the kitchen to tell us supper was ready. And when she opened the door the smell of hot waffles

d for ’em I bet we could find things to fuss o

you always are. And when we did get out there, everybody scrabbled around to get away from whoever had

we’d sung that song of ours all the way out. And I made up my mind that, after

g ’em some nice little things about Donnie’s sayings and do

great care

verything on top of this earth tha

or bread to set or grandchild to put to bed or plants to cover up. So I kep’ still,

hts over the things that’s been said to us, we better never meet. ‘To mak

ill, going home. So still that we could all hear Jem Meddledipper, that had caught the run o’ th

. lovin’-kindness .

ow gr

iderable better than

we’d spoke with in the afternoon, and she was wearing the same ex-blue alpaca. But now she’d been and got out from somewheres and put on a white straw hat, with little pink roses all ar

I says,

t to talk to you about—about some sewing,” says I, that’s sewed every rag I’ve had on my back most ever since I was clot

inside, I forgot al

n, “My dear, my land,” I was that taken-back and

t and the roof leaked; and there wasn’t ver

. “They’re going to tear it down. And

n I?”—me having bought new before then so’s to have some work for Missionary

and some won’t sense every created thing. And when we all did get a-hold of it—well, I can’t hardly tell you what it done. But there was something there in the rig with us that hadn’t b

on’t that seem like—well, don’t it make yo

and it was Mis’ Pettibone

ar. And we never said a word, but we told each other good night, I noticed, about th

nything but sandwiches and your plates and spoons. I’ll open the sauce and make the tea and w

age ever goes to anything two days in

k room. And I explained to them that we couldn’t rightly put it to vote whether we should furnish up the Toll Gate House, because we didn’t have any president to put t

d plumped into the sitting-room before he saw we were there. He’d had Donnie with him that day, because I had to be o

e general, and then: “What’s these?” says he, with h

ays I. “It’s cur

that lady

I. “A lady that ain’

wful funny, and he laughed out—a

as curtains,” sa

w one yesterday that did

asks Mr.

nts in a little town, where you behave in general more as if folks were folks than you do in the City where they ain’t so

“the old Toll Gate House. You a

ie. “And{248} can I have some pink

t plums, you shall have all of them in the kitchen that’s good fo

n his father s

ed any more h

e do,”

h the words careful, “I’m kin

carpet seam that’s pulling my fingers off

ce and flat as a roller machine. And things was going along as fine as salt and as smo

inging up. Holes. And not only holes, but ink. And not only so, but look there where their

poke up sour and aci

me off our dining-room table. We don’t throw things away to

py, unflabbergasted, “but I’m

Pettibone, and done a l

ombledon and got out of the room. I followed him out on the side porch, thi

Mr. Dombled

t hit in a sore spot. I—guess I’ll

took some supper out to him on a pie-tin, and I told him

at me kind

thing,” he says, “but—will they sa

never heard a man speak like him before, come a sweep

f that. What’s the good o’ being hostess if

g to say, but I never had to say it. For there was Mis’ Puppy, wiping her eyes on the

uld. “I can’t take back what I said about the table-cover, being it’s what

it was one of the honestest and s

e to me, kind of big and dim, that with the job we was doing, we couldn’t possibly nip{251} out at one another, like we would in just regular society. And all I done was to sing out, “Your

House. And when we begun to plan to take the things to her,

And here we’re just as interested in her as if her father

r?” says Mis’ Puppy. “Don’t let’s us

to do. “Ladies,” she says, “there’s one more pair of curtains to hem. Why don’t we get her to one of our houses to hem ’em, and make

we, with one set of common ey

nd it made it real convenient, because Mr. Dombledon had gone off on one of his two-days tramps and taken Donnie with him. And the living minute I’d started her in sewing on

ay. I don’t stand up for either, but I well know which has the most germs in. What we’d sent we’d cleaned thorough. And it was clean as wax there—but the roof was being mended and the ceiling was being fixed and carpets were going down. And when we got{253} done with it, I tell you that little house looked as cozy as a Pullman car—and I don’t know anythin

, was standing in the door with a corner of her ap

ebbe she’ll be mad but, land—even if she is, I can’t be sorry we don

py leaning on the same sill, and I nodded; and Mis’ Puppy—well, it was faint and ladylike, but just the same the lo

ed so exactly the way I’d used to dream of it looking, and it never had. It was little and neat and green, with flowers and a white door-step as usual, but out in front was a little girl, with my clothes-rope doubled up for lines

thinks I, and went in my front d

arms around each other, was the Toll Gat

. “Sudden—but

le of it. And besides, I’d begun to suspicion, deep in the pa

now his eyes were like the sitting

“how did you know? H

he time. And I ain’t found out yet

wife and husband,” s

g still. I made it out more by means of the air than by means of words, anyhow.

done it because we was tired. And we done it because we didn’t have much to do with—nor no real home. And we done it for no reason too, I guess ... an’ that come to be the oftenest of all. It got hold of us. That was what ailed me that day at your meeting—I’d always run from it

; and I could have said something right past the lump in my throat if only I

heard her sayin

r a breast-plate. And his mother never said a word—she just gathered him up, swing-board and al

s on!” he give out, for my biog

hands in his, swinging her arms back

rrying my ex-roomer’s things. And I knew how, at the Toll Gate House, everything was{

and about us women. And I knew I’d been showed the little bit of an edge to something that’s so small it don’t see

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