They were sewing in the church, and as the last stitches were being taken, Maria Sharp suddenly ejaculated in her impulsive fashion:-"Wouldn't it have been just perfect if we could have had the pews repainted before we laid the new carpet!""It would, indeed," the president answered; "but it will take us all winter to pay for the present improvements, without any thought of fresh paint.If only we had a few more men-folks to help along!""Or else none at all!" was Lobelia Brewster's suggestion."It's havin' so few that keeps us all stirred up.If there wa'n't any anywheres, we'd have women deacons and carpenters and painters, and get along first rate; for somehow the supply o' women always holds out, same as it does with caterpillars an' flies an' grasshoppers!"Everybody laughed, although Maria Sharp asserted that she for one was not willing to be called a caterpillar simply because there were too many women in the universe.
"I never noticed before how shabby and scarred and dirty the pews are," said the minister's wife as she looked at them reflectively.
"I've been thinking all the afternoon of the story about the poor old woman and the lily," and Nancy Wentworth's clear voice broke into the discussion."Do you remember some one gave her a stalk of Easter lilies and she set them in a glass pitcher on the kitchen table? After looking at them for a few minutes, she got up from her chair and washed the pitcher until the glass shone.Sitting down again, she glanced at the little window.It would never do;she had forgotten how dusty and blurred it was, and she took her cloth and burnished the panes.Then she scoured the table, then the floor, then blackened the stove before she sat down to her knitting.And of course the lily had done it all, just by showing, in its whiteness, how grimy everything else was."The minister's wife who had been in Edgewood only a few months, looked admiringly at Nancy's bright face, wondering that five-and-thirty years of life, including ten of school-teaching, had done so little to mar its serenity."The lily story is as true as the gospel!" she exclaimed, "and I can see how one thing has led you to another in making the church comfortable.But my husband says that two coats of paint on the pews would cost a considerable sum.""How about cleaning them? I don't believe they've had a good hard washing since the flood." The suggestion came from Deacon Miller's wife to the president.
"They can't even be scrubbed for less than fifteen or twenty dollars, for I thought of that and asked Mrs.Simpson yesterday, and she said twenty cents a pew was the cheapest she could do it for.""We've done everything else," said Nancy Wentworth, with a twitch of her thread; "why don't we scrub the pews? There's nothing in the orthodox creed to forbid, is there?""Speakin' o' creeds," and here old Mrs.Sargent paused in her work, "Elder Ransom from Acreville stopped with us last night, an' he tells me they recite the Euthanasian Creed every few Sundays in the Episcopal Church.I didn't want him to know how ignorant I was, but I looked up the word in the dictionary.It means easy death, and I can't see any sense in that, though it's a terrible long creed, the Elder says, an' if it's any longer 'n ourn, I should think anybody MIGHT easy die learnin' it!""I think the word is Athanasian," ventured the minister's wife.
"Elder Ransom's always plumb full o' doctrine," asserted Miss Brewster, pursuing the subject."For my part, I'm glad he preferred Acreville to our place.He was so busy bein' a minister, he never got round to bein' a human creeter.When he used to come to sociables and picnics, always lookin' kind o' like the potato blight, I used to think how complete he'd be if he had a foldin'
pulpit under his coat tails; they make foldin' beds nowadays, an' Is'pose they could make foldin' pulpits, if there was a call.""Land sakes, I hope there won't be!" exclaimed Mrs.Sargent."An'
the Elder never said much of anything either, though he was always preachin'! Now your husband, Mis' Baxter, always has plenty to say after you think he's all through.There's water in his well when the others is all dry!""But how about the pews?" interrupted Mrs.Burbank."I think Nancy's idea is splendid, and I want to see it carried out.We might make it a picnic, bring our luncheons, and work all together;let every woman in the congregation come and scrub her own pew.""Some are too old, others live at too great a distance," and the minister's wife sighed a little; "indeed, most of those who once owned the pews or sat in them seemed to be dead, or gone away to live in busier places.""I've no patience with 'em, gallivantin' over the earth," and here Lobelia rose and shook the carpet threads from her lap."Ishouldn't want to live in a livelier place than Edgewood, seem's though! We wash and hang out Mondays, iron Tuesdays, cook Wednesdays, clean house and mend Thursdays and Fridays, bake Saturdays, and go to meetin' Sundays.I don't hardly see how they can do any more 'n that in Chicago!""Never mind if we have lost members!" said the indomitable Mrs.
Burbank."The members we still have left must work all the harder.
We'll each clean our own pew, then take a few of our neighbours', and then hire Mrs.Simpson to do the wainscoting and floor.Can we scrub Friday and lay the carpet Saturday? My husband and Deacon Miller can help us at the end of the week.All in favour manifest it by the usual sign.Contrary minded? It is a vote."There never were any contrary minded when Mrs.Jere Burbank was in the chair.Public sentiment in Edgewood was swayed by the Dorcas Society, but Mrs.Burbank swayed the Dorcases themselves as the wind sways the wheat.
