-Chapter Two:
Reverend Thomas caught up with Melissa and me as we left church Sunday morning.
"Good morning, Reverend," I said cheerfully. "That was a lovely sermon."
"Thank you Anne," he replied. "I have a favor to ask of you two ladies."
Both Melissa and I knew what it was before he had even asked us. Because I am a widow and Melissa an old maid, people think we have extra time on our hands. Now it is true that I have plenty of spare time...but that does not mean I want to spend it going around asking for subscriptions.
"The church council was thinking of trying to raise money to cushion the church pews," the reverend continued. "Even I know how uncomfortable those pews can be during a long sermon. So in attempt to make things easier -especially on the old folk and children- we were wondering if you two kind ladies would go door to door and ask for money."
"How much do we need to raise?" I asked, a little wearily. There was no way I could turn down the request of the reverend but the prospect of walking across the island seemed bleak.
"We were hoping to raise 150 dollars."
"We'll do it Thomas," Melissa replied, dignified. How she loved to feel important!
"Thank you Anne, Melissa."
"I think we should do it Tuesday," Melissa said after the reverend left.
"Thursday would be better," I replied. Melissa shouldn't always get her way.
We argued about it all the way home until we finally settled upon Wednesday.
Wednesday morning Melissa met me at my gate. Both of us were rather grumpy. We had to leave quite early for neither of us owned a horse and so we had to walk all over town. But Melissa was extra grumpy because it was her turn to wear the dowdy clothes.
As I said before Melissa and I were always called upon to raise money for the church. And all those socials, building funds, and suppers have made us more than experienced. We know that if you're asking a man for money it is best if your looking your best. If a woman answers the door it is best to be wearing your most ugliest and dowdy clothes.
"Are you sure this occasion calls for that dress?" Melissa asked me, rather coldly. I was wearing my second best dress; muslin with a flower pattern and in the latest style. I could see she thought I had dressed up too much.
"It was the only dress that went with my hat," I snapped back, touching my new hat that was trimmed with lace and bunches of flowers. "I spent 10 dollars on this hat and don't expect it to just sit in my house."
"Ten dollars for a hat!" Melissa scolded. She was wearing the oldest dress she had; all black that certainly didn't go with her complexion. But, as usual, her hair was beautifully arranged.
We started out in the middle of the town. Some people growled at us, refusing to give us money. But most people were quite generous. After all this was money that would be used for our own comfort. And, as the reverend said, people were happy at the prospect of more comfortable pews.
By noon we had reached Daniel Wilson's house. This was both good and bad. Daniel always gave us plenty of money...but his house was on the edge of town. We still hadn't raised enough money which meant we had to go into the country.
"Hello Mr. Wilson," I said as he answered the door. "Would you like to subscribe? We are trying to raise money to cushion the church pews."
"Certainly," he replied and taking my clipboard signed his name. "Anne, you look handsomer than ever. That's a right stylish hat you're wearing."
"You're too kind." I saw Mary, Daniel's wife, behind him. Everyone says she gets jealous if Daniel so much talks to another woman.
"Would you like to come in for lunch? It's a pretty far away walk to the next house. You'll need some food to help you."
"Thank you Mr. Wilson," said Melissa and swept in, miffed at him not complimenting her.
Daniel was right nice to us. Mary was silent, I assumed having a sulky mood, but she is known for being mean when cooking and her meal was barely enough to fill my stomach. I have a healthy appetite. No wonder Daniel always looks a little pale.
"I suppose we have to pay a visit to Issac Appeby's house," Melissa turned to me after we left Daniel Wilson's house.
"We don't have to," I protested. Neither of us like the idea of asking money form the man we just refused to marry.
"Yes we do," insisted Melissa grimly. "We both know that Issac is very generous with his money."
"But his house is so far away!"
"Just as far as the other houses and you know the Smith's won't appreciate us asking them for money."
"Let's just get it over with."
It was a half-hour walk, us arguing on who should knock on his door. We finally got there, a sand path leading to his large house. It was an older one, very Victorian and beautiful. Behind it I could see the fields Issac worked in. Ancient trees lined the pathway. In fact, the only new thing about his house was a storage shed built right against the fence.
"Maybe he isn't home," I said hopefully.
"Yes he is," Melissa replied, dreadfully morbid. She pointed to his tool box, lying open next to a ladder leaning against his storage shed.
"Then where is he?"
We went through the open gate.
"You don't suppose he really has got a dog," I asked. I have a terrible fear of dogs.
But just as I spoke a huge, giant, bulldog peered at us over a hill in the sand path. I stood, paralyzed with fear. We tried not to look threatening, but the bulldog growled once and let out a bark that made me shriek.
Reverend Thomas caught up with Melissa and me as we left church Sunday morning.
"Good morning, Reverend," I said cheerfully. "That was a lovely sermon."
"Thank you Anne," he replied. "I have a favor to ask of you two ladies."
Both Melissa and I knew what it was before he had even asked us. Because I am a widow and Melissa an old maid, people think we have extra time on our hands. Now it is true that I have plenty of spare time...but that does not mean I want to spend it going around asking for subscriptions.
"The church council was thinking of trying to raise money to cushion the church pews," the reverend continued. "Even I know how uncomfortable those pews can be during a long sermon. So in attempt to make things easier -especially on the old folk and children- we were wondering if you two kind ladies would go door to door and ask for money."
"How much do we need to raise?" I asked, a little wearily. There was no way I could turn down the request of the reverend but the prospect of walking across the island seemed bleak.
"We were hoping to raise 150 dollars."
"We'll do it Thomas," Melissa replied, dignified. How she loved to feel important!
"Thank you Anne, Melissa."
"I think we should do it Tuesday," Melissa said after the reverend left.
"Thursday would be better," I replied. Melissa shouldn't always get her way.
We argued about it all the way home until we finally settled upon Wednesday.
Wednesday morning Melissa met me at my gate. Both of us were rather grumpy. We had to leave quite early for neither of us owned a horse and so we had to walk all over town. But Melissa was extra grumpy because it was her turn to wear the dowdy clothes.
As I said before Melissa and I were always called upon to raise money for the church. And all those socials, building funds, and suppers have made us more than experienced. We know that if you're asking a man for money it is best if your looking your best. If a woman answers the door it is best to be wearing your most ugliest and dowdy clothes.
"Are you sure this occasion calls for that dress?" Melissa asked me, rather coldly. I was wearing my second best dress; muslin with a flower pattern and in the latest style. I could see she thought I had dressed up too much.
"It was the only dress that went with my hat," I snapped back, touching my new hat that was trimmed with lace and bunches of flowers. "I spent 10 dollars on this hat and don't expect it to just sit in my house."
"Ten dollars for a hat!" Melissa scolded. She was wearing the oldest dress she had; all black that certainly didn't go with her complexion. But, as usual, her hair was beautifully arranged.
We started out in the middle of the town. Some people growled at us, refusing to give us money. But most people were quite generous. After all this was money that would be used for our own comfort. And, as the reverend said, people were happy at the prospect of more comfortable pews.
By noon we had reached Daniel Wilson's house. This was both good and bad. Daniel always gave us plenty of money...but his house was on the edge of town. We still hadn't raised enough money which meant we had to go into the country.
"Hello Mr. Wilson," I said as he answered the door. "Would you like to subscribe? We are trying to raise money to cushion the church pews."
"Certainly," he replied and taking my clipboard signed his name. "Anne, you look handsomer than ever. That's a right stylish hat you're wearing."
"You're too kind." I saw Mary, Daniel's wife, behind him. Everyone says she gets jealous if Daniel so much talks to another woman.
"Would you like to come in for lunch? It's a pretty far away walk to the next house. You'll need some food to help you."
"Thank you Mr. Wilson," said Melissa and swept in, miffed at him not complimenting her.
Daniel was right nice to us. Mary was silent, I assumed having a sulky mood, but she is known for being mean when cooking and her meal was barely enough to fill my stomach. I have a healthy appetite. No wonder Daniel always looks a little pale.
"I suppose we have to pay a visit to Issac Appeby's house," Melissa turned to me after we left Daniel Wilson's house.
"We don't have to," I protested. Neither of us like the idea of asking money form the man we just refused to marry.
"Yes we do," insisted Melissa grimly. "We both know that Issac is very generous with his money."
"But his house is so far away!"
"Just as far as the other houses and you know the Smith's won't appreciate us asking them for money."
"Let's just get it over with."
It was a half-hour walk, us arguing on who should knock on his door. We finally got there, a sand path leading to his large house. It was an older one, very Victorian and beautiful. Behind it I could see the fields Issac worked in. Ancient trees lined the pathway. In fact, the only new thing about his house was a storage shed built right against the fence.
"Maybe he isn't home," I said hopefully.
"Yes he is," Melissa replied, dreadfully morbid. She pointed to his tool box, lying open next to a ladder leaning against his storage shed.
"Then where is he?"
We went through the open gate.
"You don't suppose he really has got a dog," I asked. I have a terrible fear of dogs.
But just as I spoke a huge, giant, bulldog peered at us over a hill in the sand path. I stood, paralyzed with fear. We tried not to look threatening, but the bulldog growled once and let out a bark that made me shriek.