human
I never noticed before how shabby and scarred and dirty the pews are,
gpt
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.
human
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.
gpt
The lily story is as true as the gospel! she exclaimed,
human
How about cleaning them? I don't believe they've had a good hard washing since the flood.
gpt
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.
human
We've done everything else, said Nancy Wentworth, with a twitch of her thread;
gpt
Speakin' o' creeds, and here old Mrs. Sargent paused in her work,
human
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!
gpt
I think the word is Athanasian,
human
Elder Ransom's always plumb full o' doctrine, asserted Miss Brewster, pursuing the subject.
gpt
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' I s'pose they could make foldin' pulpits, if there was a call.
human
Land sakes, I hope there won't be! exclaimed Mrs. Sargent.
gpt
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!
human
But how about the pews? interrupted Mrs. Burbank.
gpt
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.
human
Some are too old, others live at too great a distance, and the minister's wife sighed a little;
gpt
I've no patience with 'em, gallivantin' over the earth, and here Lobelia rose and shook the carpet threads from her lap.
human
I shouldn'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!
gpt
Never mind if we have lost members! said the indomitable Mrs. Burbank.
human
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.