The Town Poor
Mrs. William Trimble and Miss Rebecca Wright were driving alongHampden east road, one afternoon in early spring. Their progress wasslow. Mrs. Trimble's sorrel horse was old and stiff, and the wheelswere clogged by clay mud. The frost was not yet out of the ground,although the snow was nearly gone, except in a few places on the northside of the woods, or where it had drifted all winter against a lengthof fence."There must be a good deal o' snow to the nor'ard of us yet," saidweather-wise Mrs. Trimble. "I feel it in the air; 'tis more than theground-damp. We ain't goin' to have real nice weather till theup-country snow's all gone.""I heard say yesterday that there was good sleddin' yet, all upthrough Parsley," responded Miss Wright. "I shouldn't like to live inthem northern places. My cousin Ellen's husband was a Parsley man, an'he was obliged, as you may have heard, to go up north to his father'ssecond wife's funeral; got back day before yesterday. 'T was abouttwenty-one miles, an' they started on wheels; but when they'd gonenine or ten miles, they found 't was no sort o' use, an' left theirwagon an' took a sleigh. The man that owned it charged 'em four an'six, too. I shouldn't have thought he would; they told him they wasgoin' to a funeral; an' they had their own buffaloes an' everything.""Well, I expect it's a good deal harder scratchin', up that way; theyhave to git money where they can; the farms is very poor as you gonorth," suggested Mrs. Trimble kindly. "'T ain't none too rich acountry where we be, but I've always been grateful I wa'n't born up toParsley."The old horse plodded along, and the sun, coming out from the heavyspring clouds, sent a sudden shine of light along the muddy road.Sister Wright drew her large veil forward over the high brim of herbonnet. She was not used to driving, or to being much in the open air;but Mrs. Trimble was an active business woman, and looked after herown affairs herself, in all weathers. The late Mr. Trimble had lefther a good farm, but not much ready money, and it was often said thatshe was better off in the end than if he had lived. She regretted hisloss deeply, however; it was impossible for her to speak of him, evento intimate friends, without emotion, and nobody had ever hinted thatthis emotion was insincere. She was most warm-hearted and generous,and in her limited way played the part of Lady Bountiful in the townof Hampden."Why, there's where the Bray girls lives, ain't it?" she exclaimed,as, beyond a thicket of witch-hazel and scrub-oak, they came in sightof a weather-beaten, solitary farmhouse. The barn was too far away forthrift or comfort, and they could see long lines of light between theshrunken boards as they came nearer. The fields looked both stony andsodden. Somehow, even Parsley itself could be hardly more forlorn."Yes'm," said Miss Wright, "that's where they live now, poor things. Iknow the place, though I ain't been up here for years. You don'tsuppose, Mis' Trimble--I ain't seen the girls out to meetin' allwinter. I've re'lly been covetin'"--"Why, yes, Rebecca, of course we could stop," answered Mrs. Trimbleheartily. "The exercises was over earlier 'n I expected, an' you'regoin' to remain over night long o' me, you know. There won't be no teatill we git there, so we can't be late. I'm in the habit o' sendin' abasket to the Bray girls when any o' our folks is comin' this way, butI ain't been to see 'em since they moved up here. Why, it must be agood deal over a year ago. I know 't was in the late winter they hadto make the move. 'T was cruel hard, I must say, an' if I hadn't beendown with my pleurisy fever I'd have stirred round an' done somethin'about it. There was a good deal o' sickness at the time, an'--well, 'twas kind o' rushed through, breakin' of 'em up, an' lots o' folksblamed the selec'men; but when 't was done, 't was done, an' nobodytook holt to undo it. Ann an' Mandy looked same's ever when they cometo meetin', 'long in the summer,--kind o' wishful, perhaps. They'vealways sent me word they was gittin' on pretty comfortable.""That would be their way," said Rebecca Wright. "They never was anyhand to complain, though Mandy's less cheerful than Ann. If Mandy 'dbeen spared such poor eyesight, an' Ann hadn't got her lame wrist thatwa'n't set right, they'd kep' off the town fast enough. They both shedtears when they talked to me about havin' to break up, when I went tosee 'em before I went over to brother Asa's. You see we was brought upneighbors, an' we went to school together, the Brays an' me. 'T was aspecial Providence brought us home this road, I've been so covetin' achance to git to see 'em. My lameness hampers me.""I'm glad we come this way, myself," said Mrs. Trimble."I'd like to see just how they fare," Miss Rebecca Wright continued."They give their consent to goin' on the town because they knew they'dgot to be dependent, an' so they felt 't would come easier for allthan for a few to help 'em. They acted real dignified an'right-minded, contrary to what most do in such cases, but they wasdreadful anxious to see who would bid 'em off, town-meeting day; theydid so hope 't would be somebody right in the village. I just sat downan' cried good when I found Abel Janes's folks had got hold of 'em.They always had the name of bein' slack an' poor-spirited, an' theydid it just for what they got out o' the town. The selectmen thislast year ain't what we have had. I hope they've been considerateabout the Bray girls.""I should have be'n more considerate about fetchin' of you over,"apologized Mrs. Trimble. "I've got my horse, an' you're lame-footed;'tis too far for you to come. But time does slip away with busy folks,an' I forgit a good deal I ought to remember.""There's nobody more considerate than you be," protested Miss RebeccaWright.Mrs. Trimble made no answer, but took out her whip and gently touchedthe sorrel horse, who walked considerably faster, but did not think itworth while to trot. It was a long, round-about way to the house,farther down the road and up a lane."I never had any opinion of the Bray girls' father, leavin' 'em as hedid," said Mrs. Trimble."He was much praised in his time, though there was always some saidhis early life hadn't been up to the mark," explained her companion."He was a great favorite of our then preacher, the Reverend DanielLongbrother. They did a good deal for the parish, but they did ittheir own way. Deacon Bray was one that did his part in the repairswithout urging. You know 't was in his time the first repairs wasmade, when they got out the old soundin'-board an' them handsomesquare pews. It cost an awful sight o' money, too. They hadn't donepayin' up that debt when they set to alter it again an' git the wallsfrescoed. My grandmother was one that always spoke her mind right out,an' she was dreadful opposed to breakin' up the square pews where she'dalways set. They was countin' up what 't would cost in parish meetin',an' she riz right up an' said 't wouldn't cost nothin' to let 'emstay, an' there wa'n't a house carpenter left in the parish that coulddo such nice work, an' time would come when the great-grandchildrenwould give their eye-teeth to have the old meetin'-house look just asit did then. But haul the inside to pieces they would and did.""There come to be a real fight over it, didn't there?" agreed Mrs.Trimble soothingly. "Well, 't wa'n't good taste. I remember the oldhouse well. I come here as a child to visit a cousin o' mother's, an'Mr. Trimble's folks was neighbors, an' we was drawed to each otherthen, young's we was. Mr. Trimble spoke of it many's the time,--thatfirst time he ever see me, in a leghorn hat with a feather; 't was onethat mother had, an' pressed over.""When I think of them old sermons that used to be preached in that oldmeetin'-house of all, I'm glad it's altered over, so's not to remindfolks," said Miss Rebecca Wright, after a suitable pause. "Them oldbrimstone discourses, you know, Mis' Trimble. Preachers is far morereasonable, nowadays. Why, I set an' thought, last Sabbath, as Ilistened, that if old Mr. Longbrother an' Deacon Bray could hear thedifference they'd crack the ground over 'em like pole beans, an' comeright up 'long side their headstones."Mrs. Trimble laughed heartily, and shook the reins three or four timesby way of emphasis. "There's no gitting round you," she said, muchpleased. "I should think Deacon Bray would want to rise, any way, if't was so he could, an' knew how his poor girls was farin'. A manought to provide for his folks he's got to leave behind him, speciallyif they're women. To be sure, they had their little home; but we'veseen how, with all their industrious ways, they hadn't means to keepit. I s'pose he thought he'd got time enough to lay by, when he giveso generous in collections; but he didn't lay by, an' there they be.He might have took lessons from the squirrels: even them little wildcreatur's makes them their winter hoards, an' men-folks ought to knowenough if squirrels does. 'Be just before you are generous:' that'swhat was always set for the B's in the copy-books, when I was toschool, and it often runs through my mind.""'As for man, his days are as grass,'--that was for A; the two go welltogether," added Miss Rebecca Wright soberly. "My good gracious, ain'tthis a starved-lookin' place? It makes me ache to think them nice Braygirls has to brook it here."The sorrel horse, though somewhat puzzled by an unexpected deviationfrom his homeward way, willingly came to a stand by the gnawed cornerof the door-yard fence, which evidently served as hitching-place. Twoor three ragged old hens were picking about the yard, and at last aface appeared at the kitchen window, tied up in a handkerchief, as ifit were a case of toothache. By the time our friends reached the sidedoor next this window, Mrs. Janes came disconsolately to open it forthem, shutting it again as soon as possible, though the air felt morechilly inside the house."Take seats," said Mrs. Janes briefly. "You'll have to see me just asI be. I have been suffering these four days with the ague, andeverything to do. Mr. Janes is to court, on the jury. 'T wasinconvenient to spare him. I should be pleased to have you lay offyour things."Comfortable Mrs. Trimble looked about the cheerless kitchen, and couldnot think of anything to say; so she smiled blandly and shook her headin answer to the invitation. "We'll just set a few minutes with you,to pass the time o' day, an' then we must go in an' have a word withthe Miss Brays, bein' old acquaintance. It ain't been so we could gitto call on 'em before. I don't know's you're acquainted with MissR'becca Wright. She's been out of town a good deal.""I heard she was stopping over to Plainfields with her brother'sfolks," replied Mrs. Janes, rocking herself with irregular motion, asshe sat close to the stove. "Got back some time in the fall, Ibelieve?""Yes'm," said Miss Rebecca, with an undue sense of guilt andconviction. "We've been to the installation over to the East Parish,an' thought we'd stop in; we took this road home to see if 't was anybetter. How is the Miss Brays gettin' on?""They're well's common," answered Mrs. Janes grudgingly. "I was putout with Mr. Janes for fetchin' of 'em here, with all I've got to do,an' I own I was kind o' surly to 'em 'long to the first of it. He gitsthe money from the town, an' it helps him out; but he bid 'em off forfive dollars a month, an' we can't do much for 'em at no such price asthat. I went an' dealt with the selec'men, an' made 'em promise tofind their firewood an' some other things extra. They was glad to getrid o' the matter the fourth time I went, an' would ha' promised 'mostanything. But Mr. Janes don't keep me half the time in oven-wood, he'soff so much, an' we was cramped o' room, any way. I have to storethings up garrit a good deal, an' that keeps me trampin' right throughtheir room. I do the best for 'em I can, Mis' Trimble, but 't ain't soeasy for me as 't is for you, with all your means to do with."The poor woman looked pinched and miserable herself, though it wasevident that she had no gift at house or home keeping. Mrs. Trimble'sheart was wrung with pain, as she thought of the unwelcome inmates ofsuch a place; but she held her peace bravely, while Miss Rebecca againgave some brief information in regard to the installation."You go right up them back stairs," the hostess directed at last. "I'mglad some o' you church folks has seen fit to come an' visit 'em.There ain't been nobody here this long spell, an' they've aged a sightsince they come. They always send down a taste out of your baskets,Mis' Trimble, an' I relish it, I tell you. I'll shut the door afteryou, if you don't object. I feel every draught o' cold air.""I've always heard she was a great hand to make a poor mouth. Wa'n'tshe from somewheres up Parsley way?" whispered Miss Rebecca, as theystumbled in the half-light."Poor meechin' body, wherever she come from," replied Mrs. Trimble, asshe knocked at the door.There was silence for a moment after this unusual sound; then one ofthe Bray sisters opened the door. The eager guests stared into asmall, low room, brown with age, and gray, too, as if former dust andcobwebs could not be made wholly to disappear. The two elderly womenwho stood there looked like captives. Their withered faces wore a lookof apprehension, and the room itself was more bare and plain than wasfitting to their evident refinement of character and self-respect.There was an uncovered small table in the middle of the floor, withsome crackers on a plate; and, for some reason or other, this added agreat deal to the general desolation.But Miss Ann Bray, the elder sister, who carried her right arm in asling, with piteously drooping fingers, gazed at the visitors withradiant joy. She had not seen them arrive.The one window gave only the view at the back of the house, across thefields, and their coming was indeed a surprise. The next minute shewas laughing and crying together. "Oh, sister!" she said, "if hereain't our dear Mis' Trimble!--an' my heart o' goodness, 'tis 'BeccaWright, too! What dear good creatur's you be! I've felt all day as ifsomething good was goin' to happen, an' was just sayin' to myself'twas most sundown now, but I wouldn't let on to Mandany I'd give uphope quite yet. You see, the scissors stuck in the floor this verymornin' an' it's always a reliable sign. There, I've got to kiss yeboth again!""I don't know where we can all set," lamented sister Mandana. "Thereain't but the one chair an' the bed; t'other chair's too rickety; an'we've been promised another these ten days; but first they've forgotit, an' next Mis' Janes can't spare it,--one excuse an' another. I amgoin' to git a stump o' wood an' nail a board on to it, when I can gitoutdoor again," said Mandana, in a plaintive voice. "There, I ain'tgoin' to complain o' nothin', now you've come," she added; and theguests sat down, Mrs. Trimble, as was proper, in the one chair."We've sat on the bed many's the time with you, 'Becca, an' talkedover our girl nonsense, ain't we? You know where 'twas--in the littleback bedroom we had when we was girls, an' used to peek out at ourbeaux through the strings o' mornin'-glories," laughed Ann Braydelightedly, her thin face shining more and more with joy. "I broughtsome o' them mornin'-glory seeds along when we come away, we'd raised'em so many years; an' we got 'em started all right, but the hensfound 'em out. I declare I chased them poor hens, foolish as 'twas;but the mornin'-glories I'd counted on a sight to remind me o' home.You see, our debts was so large, after my long sickness an' all, thatwe didn't feel 'twas right to keep back anything we could help fromthe auction."It was impossible for any one to speak for a moment or two; thesisters felt their own uprooted condition afresh, and their guests forthe first time really comprehended the piteous contrast between thatneat little village house, which now seemed a palace of comfort, andthis cold, unpainted upper room in the remote Janes farmhouse. It wasan unwelcome thought to Mrs. Trimble that the well-to-do town ofHampden could provide no better for its poor than this, and her roundface flushed with resentment and the shame of personal responsibility."The girls shall be well settled in the village before another winter,if I pay their board myself," she made an inward resolution, and tookanother almost tearful look at the broken stove, the miserable bed,and the sisters' one hair-covered trunk, on which Mandana was sittingBut the poor place was filled with a golden spirit of hospitality.Rebecca was again discoursing eloquently of the installation; it wasso much easier to speak of general subjects, and the sisters hadevidently been longing to hear some news. Since the late summer theyhad not been to church, and presently Mrs. Trimble asked the reason."Now, don't you go to pouring out our woes, Mandy!" begged little oldAnn, looking shy and almost girlish, and as if she insisted uponplaying that life was still all before them and all pleasure. "Don'tyou go to spoilin' their visit with our complaints! They know well'swe do that changes must come, an' we'd been so wonted to our homethings that this come hard at first; but then they felt for us, I knowjust as well's can be. 'Twill soon be summer again, an' 'tis realpleasant right out in the fields here, when there ain't too hot aspell. I've got to know a sight o' singin' birds since we come.""Give me the folks I've always known," sighed the younger sister, wholooked older than Miss Ann, and less even-tempered. "You may have yourbirds, if you want 'em. I do re'lly long to go to meetin' an' seefolks go by up the aisle. Now, I will speak of it, Ann, whatever yousay. We need, each of us, a pair o' good stout shoes an'rubbers,--ours are all wore out; an' we've asked an' asked, an' theynever think to bring 'em, an'"--Poor old Mandana, on the trunk, covered her face with her arms andsobbed aloud. The elder sister stood over her, and patted her on thethin shoulder like a child, and tried to comfort her. It crossed Mrs.Trimble's mind that it was not the first time one had wept and theother had comforted. The sad scene must have been repeated many timesin that long, drear winter. She would see them forever after in hermind as fixed as a picture, and her own tears fell fast."You didn't see Mis' Janes's cunning little boy, the next one to thebaby, did you?" asked Ann Bray, turning round quickly at last, andgoing cheerfully on with the conversation. "Now, hush, Mandy, dear;they'll think you're childish! He's a dear, friendly little creatur',an' likes to stay with us a good deal, though we feel's if it 't wastoo cold for him, now we are waitin' to get us more wood.""When I think of the acres o' woodland in this town!" groaned RebeccaWright. "I believe I'm goin' to preach next Sunday, 'stead o' theminister, an' I'll make the sparks fly. I've always heard the saying,'What's everybody's business is nobody's business,' an' I've come tobelieve it.""Now, don't you, 'Becca. You've happened on a kind of a poor time withus, but we've got more belongings than you see here, an' a good largecluset, where we can store those things there ain't room to haveabout. You an' Miss Trimble have happened on a kind of poor day, youknow. Soon's I git me some stout shoes an' rubbers, as Mandy says, Ican fetch home plenty o' little dry boughs o' pine; you remember I wasalways a great hand to roam in the woods? If we could only have afront room, so 't we could look out on the road an' see passin', an'was shod for meetin', I don' know's we should complain. Now we're justgoin' to give you what we've got, an' make out with a good welcome. Wemake more tea 'n we want in the mornin', an' then let the fire godown, since 't has been so mild. We've got a good cluset"(disappearing as she spoke), "an' I know this to be good tea, 'causeit's some o' yourn, Mis' Trimble. An' here's our sprigged chiny cupsthat R'becca knows by sight, if Mis' Trimble don't. We kep' out fourof 'em, an' put the even half dozen with the rest of the auctionstuff. I've often wondered who'd got 'em, but I never asked, for fear't would be somebody that would distress us. They was mother's, youknow."The four cups were poured, and the little table pushed to the bed,where Rebecca Wright still sat, and Mandana, wiping her eyes, came andjoined her. Mrs. Trimble sat in her chair at the end, and Ann trottedabout the room in pleased content for a while, and in and out of thecloset, as if she still had much to do; then she came and stoodopposite Mrs. Trimble. She was very short and small, and there was nopainful sense of her being obliged to stand. The four cups were notquite full of cold tea, but there was a clean old tablecloth foldeddouble, and a plate with three pairs of crackers neatly piled, and asmall--it must be owned, a very small--piece of hard white cheese.Then, for a treat, in a glass dish, there was a little preservedpeach, the last--Miss Rebecca knew it instinctively--of the householdstores brought from their old home. It was very sugary, this bit ofpeach; and as she helped her guests and sister Mandy, Miss Ann Braysaid, half unconsciously, as she often had said with less reason inthe old days, "Our preserves ain't so good as usual this year; this isbeginning to candy." Both the guests protested, while Rebecca addedthat the taste of it carried her back, and made her feel young again.The Brays had always managed to keep one or two peach-trees alive intheir corner of a garden. "I've been keeping this preserve for atreat," said her friend. "I'm glad to have you eat some, 'Becca. Lastsummer I often wished you was home an' could come an' see us, 'steado' being away off to Plainfields."The crackers did not taste too dry. Miss Ann took the last of thepeach on her own cracker; there could not have been quite a smallspoonful, after the others were helped, but she asked them first ifthey would not have some more. Then there was a silence, and in thesilence a wave of tender feeling rose high in the hearts of the fourelderly women. At this moment the setting sun flooded the poor plainroom with light; the unpainted wood was all of a golden-brown, and AnnBray, with her gray hair and aged face, stood at the head of the tablein a kind of aureole. Mrs. Trimble's face was all aquiver as shelooked at her; she thought of the text about two or three beinggathered together, and was half afraid."I believe we ought to've asked Mis' Janes if she wouldn't come up,"said Ann. "She's real good feelin', but she's had it very hard, an'gits discouraged. I can't find that she's ever had anything realpleasant to look back to, as we have. There, next time we'll make agood heartenin' time for her too."The sorrel horse had taken a long nap by the gnawed fence-rail, andthe cool air after sundown made him impatient to be gone. The twofriends jolted homeward in the gathering darkness, through thestiffening mud, and neither Mrs. Trimble nor Rebecca Wright said aword until they were out of sight as well as out of sound of the Janeshouse. Time must elapse before they could reach a more familiar partof the road and resume conversation on its natural level."I consider myself to blame," insisted Mrs. Trimble at last. "Ihaven't no words of accusation for nobody else, an' I ain't one totake comfort in calling names to the board o' selec'men. I make noreproaches, an' I take it all on my own shoulders; but I'm goin' tostir about me, I tell you! I shall begin early to-morrow. They'regoin' back to their own house,--it's been standin' empty allwinter,--an' the town's goin' to give 'em the rent an' what firewoodthey need; it won't come to more than the board's payin' out now. An'you an' me'll take this same horse an' wagon, an' ride an' go afoot byturns, an' git means enough together to buy back their furniture an'whatever was sold at that plaguey auction; an' then we'll put it allback, an' tell 'em they've got to move to a new place, an' just carry'em right back again where they come from. An' don't you never tell,R'becca, but here I be a widow woman, layin' up what I make from myfarm for nobody knows who, an' I'm goin' to do for them Bray girlsall I'm a mind to. I should be sca't to wake up in heaven, an' hearanybody there ask how the Bray girls was. Don't talk to me about thetown o' Hampden, an' don't ever let me hear the name o' town poor! I'mashamed to go home an' see what's set out for supper. I wish I'dbrought 'em right along.""I was goin' to ask if we couldn't git the new doctor to go up an' dosomethin' for poor Ann's arm," said Miss Rebecca. "They say he's verysmart. If she could get so's to braid straw or hook rugs again, she'dsoon be earnin' a little somethin'. An' may be he could do somethin'for Mandy's eyes. They did use to live so neat an' ladylike. Somehow Icouldn't speak to tell 'em there that 'twas I bought them six bestcups an' saucers, time of the auction; they went very low, aseverything else did, an' I thought I could save it some other way.They shall have 'em back an' welcome. You're real whole-hearted, Mis'Trimble. I expect Ann'll be sayin' that her father's child'n wa'n'tgoin' to be left desolate, an' that all the bread he cast on thewater's comin' back through you.""I don't care what she says, dear creatur'!" exclaimed Mrs. Trimble."I'm full o' regrets I took time for that installation, an' set thereseepin' in a lot o' talk this whole day long, except for its kind ofbringin' us to the Bray girls. I wish to my heart 't was to-morrowmornin' a'ready, an' I a-startin' for the selec'men."
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