"Theophilus,"said Mrs.Wilson,"the flour is out,and we have but half a pound of sugar left."The minister looked grave.
"My dear,"he answered,"it seems to me that something is always out.""Then,"said his wife,smiling faintly,"I suppose you are out of money also."I have a dollar and thirty seven cents in my pocket book,and I do not know when Ishall get any more."
"Doesn't the parish owe you something?"
"Yes,but the treasurer told me yesterday,when I spoke to him on the subject,that we must give them time to pay it;that it would create dissatisfaction if I pressed the matter.""How do they expect us to live?"demanded Mrs.Wilson,as nearly indignant as so meek a woman could be.
"They think we can get along somehow.Besides,the donation party takes place tomorrow.Mr.Stiles told me that I couldn't expect to collect anything till that was over.""I wish it were over."
"So do I."
"I suppose it will amount to about as much as the others did.People will bring provisions,most of which they will eat themselves.When it is over we'll be the richer by a dozen pincushions,half a dozen pies,a bushel of potatoes,and a few knick-knacks for which we have no earthly use.""I am afraid,my dear,you are getting satirical."There is more truth than satire in it,Theophilus,as you know very well.The worst of it is that we are expected to be grateful for what is only an additional burden.""Well,my dear,you are certainly right;but perhaps we may be more fortunate tomorrow."At this point Ralph Wilson,the minister's oldest son,came into the room to recite a lesson in the Iliad,and the conversation took a turn.
"I am afraid Ralph will never be able to go to college after all,"said his mother.
"I don't see any way at present,"said the minister;"but I hope it may be arranged.I wrote last week to my classmate,Professor Ames,of Dartmouth,to inquire what aid Ralph could depend upon from the beneficiary funds.""Have you had an answer?"
"I received a letter this morning.From what he writes me,I judge that his necessary expenses will be at least four hundred dollars a year ----""Nearly the amount of your salary."
"And that he can probably procure aid to the amount of two hundred from the beneficiary funds.""Then it is hopeless.You cannot make up the balance.""I'm afraid you're right.I think,though,that Ralph should continue his preparation,since,even if he is only prepared to enter,that insures him a good education.""I might defray a part of my expenses by teaching school in winter,"suggested Ralph,who had listened intently to a conversation that so nearly concerned his future.
"You could teach during the junior and senior years,"said his father."I did so myself.During the first two years you would be too young,and it would,besides,be a disadvantage."Since the donation visit had been decided upon at the sewing circle,it had been a prominent topic of conversation in the village.Though designed to give substantial assistance to the minister's family,it was also to be a festive occasion --a sort of ministerial party --and thus was regarded as a social event.
Fair fingers had been busily at work in the minister's service,and it is safe to say that at least ten pincushions were in process of manufacture.Chief among the fair workers was Clarissa Bassett,who had a just pride in the superior size and more elaborate workmanship of her pincushions,of which four or five were already on exhibition in the Wilson household.
"I suppose you are going to the donation party,Miss Frost,"said Miss Bassett complacently,for she had that morning set the last stitch in what she regarded as the handsomest pincushion she had ever made.
"Yes,I intend to go."
"Have You got your gift ready?asked Miss Bassett,with natural curiosity.
"I hope to have it ready in time,"said Mabel.
"I wish you could see my pincushion,"said Clarissa,with subdued enthusiasm.
"I think it is the best I ever made."
"Is Mr.Wilson's family in particular need of pincushions?"asked Mabel.
Miss Bassett did not deign to notice the question suggested by Mabel,considering it quite irrelevant.
"I always give pincushions,"she said."People say I have a talent for ****** them."Mabel smiled.
"I have no talent at all for that kind of work,"she returned."I should not venture to compete with you.But probably yours will be all that will be required.""Oh,there are several others who are ****** them,"said Miss Bassett;"but,"she added complacently,"I am not afraid to compare mine with any that'll be brought.Old Mrs.Pulsifer showed me hers yesterday --such a looking thing!Made up of odds and ends from her scrap bag.
It isn't fit for the kitchen."
"So Mrs.Pulsifer is going to give a pincushion,also?""She always does;but if I didn't know how to make one better than she I'd give up altogether.""Does Mrs.Wilson use a great many pins?"asked Mabel.
Miss Bassett stared.
"I don't know as she uses any more than anybody else,"she answered.
"How,then,can she use so many pincushions?Wouldn't some other gift be more acceptable?"Mabel inquired.
"Oh,they'll have other things --cake and pies and such things.It wouldn't be appropriate for me to give anything of that kind."The next was the eventful day.At four o'clock in the afternoon people began to arrive.The parsonage had just been put in order,and the minister and his wife awaited their visitors.
"Is it necessary for me to be here?"asked Ralph.
"It would hardly look well for you to be away,my son."I will stay if you wish it,of course,father;but it always humiliates me.It looks as if we were receiving charity.""I confess I can't quite rid myself of the same impression,"said his father;"but it may be a feeling of worldly pride.We must try to look upon it differently.""Why can't they give you the value of their presents in money,or by adding to your salary,father?"suggested Ralph.
