The Girl of the Woods by Grace Livingston Hill

Author:Grace Livingston Hill
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Barbour Publishing, Inc.
Published: 2015-05-25T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

It was an all-day meeting of the Ladies’ Aid in the Sumter Hills Trinity Church, and Sarah Martin was parceling out the sewing to be done. They were making an outfit for a poor family whose father had recently been killed in a mine disaster. Mrs. Martin was also largely director of conversation.

“There, Mrs. Apsley, you better take this dress and sew up the seams. I know that seam where the goods had to be pieced in the front breadth don’t quite match the plaids, but it can’t be helped. That’s all the goods there was in that piece, and it had to do. Besides, a mine-child wouldn’t likely mind that. Anyway, she ought to be glad to get something to cover her. Frizzie Cutler, you oughtta reinforce those buttonholes you’re making in that petticoat. A child’ll tear ’em out in no time, and I don’t want it to get out that Sumter Church doesn’t do reliable work. You know those people that get something for nothing are awfully critical. We have to be careful, for we have the best reputation for sewing in the county.”

“Say, Mrs. Martin, how much hem did you allow for this little pink dress? One inch? Don’t you think that’s rather scant?” asked Mrs. Osborne anxiously.

“That’s plenty!” said Mrs. Martin crisply. “You know these days, when we ought to economize. One inch is plenty.”

“Say, Mrs. Martin, are you sure the minister’s wife won’t object to that? I heard her say all children’s dresses ought to have a deep hem for letting down. She said that was true economy,” said Minnie Marlin with a worried look.

Mrs. Martin’s lips pursed thinly.

“Well, if Mrs. Castor wants to dictate about hems, she better be on hand when the work is being done. If you ask me, I think it’s rather late for the minister’s wife to come to an all-day meeting. It’s almost time for lunch, and she’s not here yet. Of course she’s rather new here, only been in the parsonage four months, but that’s not long enough for her to dictate. Not about hems, anyway, especially when the material wasn’t donated by her.”

“Why, she’s got a sick child. Didn’t you know it, Sarah Martin? She’s probably got her hands full without trying to get here at all,” said Mrs. Bowen.

“Yes, I know it. That smallest child of hers is always sick,” said Mrs. Martin. “If you ask me, I think she’s just a spoiled baby, always demanding her mother.”

“Shh!” said Mrs. Green. “Here comes the oldest daughter. Her mother’s likely sent her in to take her place.”

“Take her place! Humph!” said Mrs. Martin. “That little high school kid take the place of a minister’s wife? Well, not if the minister’s wife herself was the right kind of a woman, she couldn’t.”

“Shh! She’s coming in, I tell you!” said Mrs. Green.

Rose Castor entered sweetly, breezily, carrying a large platter covered with a napkin.

“Good morning, ladies. Mother sent me over with these hot biscuits. She said you were to sit right down and eat them now, that she’d be over in a minute or two.

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