Friendship Village Love Stories

ght until the day when Calliope's brief stay in the village ended and she came to tell me good-by—and, more than incidentally, to show m

ved. "Not but what we'd like to, but we ain't the time nor

means to tell a story, somewhat wit

ant enough, like about sea-serpents. But neither the one nor the other bit hold rill vital, because the plates was so young an' smilin' an' party-seemin', an' we was old an' busy, like you get, an' considered past the dressin' age. St

now how it use' to be—no curb an' the road a sight, over your shoe-tops with mud in the wet, an' over your shoe-tops with sand when it come dry. We ladies used to talk a good deal about it, but the

te hard all that winter, an' had got things in the cemetery rill ship-shape—at least I mean things on the cemetery was. An' at one o' the July meetin'

wnspeople an' make 'em attractive to others. But,' says she, 'when they ain't enough of us dead to occupy all the tim

Mis' Timothy Toplady an' I see Timothy Toplady settin' in the post-office store, an' we went in to tell hi

nd o' cross, bein' he was her we

' says Silas, 'an' fiddlin' for dear life, an' won't let anybody into the hotel. Mis' Hubbelthwait has gone over to her

be there, an' won't let a soul in—though, of course, not much of anybody ever comes to Friendship anyway, excep' now an' then an automobile on its way somewheres. An' there Threat will set in the bar, sometimes most of one week, someti

kes, when Silas got t

as, right crisp. Which wasn't what he meant, an' we al

pave Daphne Street,' Mis'

ays seems to think the more you do i

g

t?' says Timothy, whirlin

ays Mis' Sykes an' Mis'

is arms around h

urch with his own emphasizin', 'did

says Mis' Sykes, 'no more'n we

ll sensitive over it. I guess the Common Co

glad to hev the pavin' done if the Sodality was willin' to do it. Ain't it a hard thing to learn that it ain't all wi

' every vote was switched by Silas an' Timothy to be unanimous, excep' Eppleby Holcomb's vote. Eppleby, we heard afterwards, said that when a pack o' women made up their minds to[Pg 153] pave, they'd

that we'd took action. This we done by votin' to lay low till such time as we cou

blisterin' July afternoon—one of them afternoons that melts itself out flat, same as a dropped pepp'mint on a brick walk, an' you're left sti

a little town—in some respect

t is. But I'd rather live in a little town an' dog it o

[Pg 154] easy housework, an' you get to know folks well. But oh, none of it what you might say glitters. An' they ain't no woman whatever—no matter how

hed been pinnin' up her new summer plates—Lyddy don't believe in rushin' the season. An' no sooner had we got a good look at 'em—big coloured sheets th

ere,' she says. '

s—my land! Her dress was long an' rill light blue, an' seemed like it must have been paper, it was so fancy. It didn't seem like cloth goods at all, same as

g

s strange, 'do they do it when they get gray hair? I

fore the plates hed all been young an' smilin' an' party-seemin', an' we'd thought of all that as past an' done for, with us, along with all the o

ell along in years wearin' anything but brown or navy blue or gray,—besides black.' Mis' Sykes is t

wistful, 'wouldn't it seem like heaven to be a

off bein' mayor, an' never'd been back to Friendship

156] well of you, I should think you'd think about

d around on us, an' we see

back or show mad. We ladies of the Sodality had ought to be able to get our own

hin' in her mind, but we couldn

Lyddy's dressmakin' shop, 'has the husbands of any one of

t that you'd think black an' brown an' gray an' navy had exhausted the Lord's

hall, an' invite our husbands an' buy new dresses—light shades an' some

on-plate hungry, but she stopped a

g

ykes, for one, is right down soft-hearted about clothes. He always notices which one of their waists t

n. I'll never forget the sensation it give me—like I was married to a man that wasn't my husband. The woman had on a light pink dress

on-plate. 'I should go,' she says, 'ju

s him 'the mayor' yet—'was terrible fond o' coloured neckties. He was rill

Friendship ladies thinks if we give 'em a clean roller towel we've done enough towards maki

president, rill dreamy for he

you get a-hold o' some others, if you pay attention. Still, I judged the ladies was on the right track, for men is men, say what who will. All but Threat Hubbelthwait. We passed the hotel an' heard him settin' in the

, vague, without sayin' for what—an' that pleased Silas that gets the rent. An' then we give the invitations, spectacular, through the Friendship Daily to the Sodality's husbands, for the next Tuesday night. We could do it that quick, not bein' dependent on dressmakers same as some. The ladies was all goin' to make their dresses themselves, an' the dresses wa'n't much to do to make. Nobody bothered a very great deal about how we should make 'em, the principal thing bein' the colour; Mis' Toplady's was blue, like the fashion-plate; Mis'

e planned to go to the hall in the afternoon an' take our dresses there, an' sly em' up and leave 'em, an' put 'em on after we'd got there that night, so's nobody's husbands should suspect. But when we all came in the afternoon, an' the decoratin' with greens an' festoons of cut paper an' all was to do, there Mis' Toplady, that was to make scalloped potatoes, hadn't got her sleeves in yet, an' she was down to the hall tryin' to do both; an' Mis' Holcomb, t

oon. Mis' Hubbelthwait was goin' over to the hotel to get some dishes out, an' I went with her to help. The bar[Pg 161] was to the back, where Threat set an' slep' an' fiddled, an' Mis

eard a funny sound. We listened, an' we thought they must be testin' the hose. But when we got to Ly

' Toplady. 'My land,' she says

hey'd put on the whole steam and tear right along through it. But strangers would go careful, for fear they'd get stuck, an' so they got it, like you do. An' them two big red cars was comin' slow, the dust like cloaks an' curtains billowin' up behind. They looked quite wild,

e says, 'is this the st

ted. 'They's only one street in town,' says she, 'a

here will be one?' says the

lthwait herself spoke up. 'Threat's drunk an' fiddlin', she says. 'Th

an' though some of 'em laughed out sort

Bonner, sittin' by his tire in the desert, a ways back? Don't tell us there's no place

enty-one, even if they was the food to feed 'em—' she begun, an' then s

g

of Friendship could cook things such as never man yet ate. We are sta-arving,' he says, humorous. 'Can't you do something for us? W

wild. 'Is two dollars times twenty-fou

thinkin' about. An' it was about that hall, all festooned with greens an' cut paper, an' the two long tables laid ready, an' the veal loaf an' scalloped potatoes an' ice-cream for thirty. An' when Mis' Sykes, that usually speaks, stoo

ll at half-past[Pg 164] six,' she says, 'the Friendship Married Ladies' Cemetery Impro

omen spats their hands soft, an' one of '

't we all break into this hotel a

wait stepped o

sin' his violin. He—he does that sometimes, an' we—don't bother him. But the bar is at the back. I ca

' the cars back for the other car, an' the rest of

oplady, almost like a g

p Village. Sodality hardly ever made more than five dollars to its ten-cent entertainments—an' that for a big turn-out on a dry night. An' here was the price[Pg 165] of about nine such entertain

as the men t

eby....' Mis' Toplady says, an' stop

polite for me to laugh. But I couldn't hardly help it, thinkin' o' them

ards, never said a word, but only

orty-eight dollars, like some kind o' weapon. But I tell you, we hadn't reckoned without knowin' our h

in pretty sudden: leg o' lamb, left from the Holcombs' dinner an' only cut off of one side; the Sykes's roast o' veal, the same; three chickens for soup the Libertys hed just dressed for next day compan

hed met nobody's husband yet, an' nobody wanted to. We didn't quite know how

pass Eppleby's office, but I declare I feel mean. He'll hev to eat sauce an' plain bread-an'-butter for his supper. An' most o'

y, 'I kind o' thought—leave 'em come up. I bet they'd rather be in it than out of i

g

cake: 'My land, my land,' she says, sort o' hushed, 'wh

n', an' I guess all our hearts givin' one o' them sickish thu

'd rented my dress from the cit

all hired an' everything all ready, an' every chance in the world of everybody's husband's findin' out about the dresses before we could ge

ilas an' I have been married so long,' she says, 'that I often wonder if I seem

amb het up an' smellin' rich, chicken[Pg 168] soup steamin', an' all. But just that very minute we heard some of 'em comin' in the hall—an' the one 'ready'

', men jokin', all makin' a lark out o' the whole thing. An' if the women wasn't, every last one of 'em, wearin'—

unk at the back o' the automobile,' says she. 'They says they wanted to floss up for

out, 'Mis' Hubbelthwait, you go an' set 'em down. An' every one o' you—into them togs of ours! Here's the chance to wear 'em

g

s president, an' bein' as we was all hankerin' in our hearts, we didn't need much urgin'. We slammed the s

ouldn't be told from stitches. Poor Mame Holcomb's collar that wasn't on yet we turned in for her V-shape, so's her dress was low, like the best. An' Mis' Uppers, that was seasonin' t

out it—the automobiles went to the post-office for their mail, an' Silas told 'em enjoyable about Threat, an' the automo

70] stifled, but rill firm. 'Tell 'em, then,' say

d been dressin' herself over behind the kitchen boiler all alone, Mis' Postmaster Sykes stepped out. My land, if she wasn't

on—all of you. Let's take out the first cou

dishes. An' neither one of 'em could hardly help lookin' at Mis' Sykes's dress all the way out. An' back of 'em went the rest o' the ladies, all in pink an' blue an' white an' pale green nun's veilin' that they'd made, an

angly dress, the other ladies followin' an' noddin' bright when they passed the men, an' motionin' 'em toward the back o' the hall. An' back the men all come into the kitchen,

t smilin' a little an lookin' surprised an' agreeable; an' the other husbands, either takin' the cue or feelin' the same, done likewise, too. An' when Mame Bliss says, sort o' tremblin'—Eppleby bein' the gentlest husband

t Timothy Toplady, he just rubs his hands an' looks at her sort o' wonderin', an' he says, 'Blisteri

o. An' Silas looked at her an' looked, just as if her bein' his wife didn't make him admire her any the less. An' Mis' Sykes, sh

ll you, we served 'em with an air, 'count o' bein' well dressed, like they was, an' knowin' it. An' we knew the automobile folks appreciated it—we could tell by the way they kep' lookin' at us. B

e knew how to act. An' when he was through we, one an' all, nudged Mis' Sykes to reply, an' she done so, the two tables[Pg

d, I'm sure, for our forty-eight dollars clear. An' we think perhaps you'd like to know what the mone

ke it was a box. 'What's that?' says he, more of h

in' is goin' to happen an' nobody knows what; an' I know the Sodality caught its

lse: 'Hear, hear! Likewise, here an' now. I move that we as one man, an' that man's automobile having lately come up the mai

ee Mis' Hubbelthwait's bread plate pilin' with bills, an' knew what it was for, we couldn't help—the whole Sodality couldn't help—steppin' forwards, close to the table, an' standin' there

er part of her skirt an' spread it out an' he dropped the whole rustlin' heap on to the spangles. An' the rest of us all clapped our hands, hard as we could, an' right while we was doin' it we

. An' when we all set down together around that table, Mis' Sykes at the head an' the plate o' bills for a centrepiece, Mis' Toplady

ht shades even if we ain't young, like the run o' the fashion-plat