242 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[March 30, 1901. 
^fiotktum ^anmt 
— « — 
The Buttles Gals. 
of the Danvis Folks. 
The failure of Bascom, the new store keeper at the 
Forge Village, fell upon none of his victims more 
heavily than those ripened spinsters who pronounced 
their name as it was spelled — Buttolph — ^but were known 
to all their townfolk as the "Buttles gals." They were 
tailoresses, who made the clothes of half the male in- 
habitants of Danvis, sometimes at their own home and 
sometimes at that of their employer, as was the declining 
custom of the shoemakers. 
A few Danvis people who had become tainted with 
aristocratic ideas had their clothes made by a tailor in 
Vergennes. A larger number, who were free from such 
high notions, had theirs made entirely by their own 
women folks, who treasured almost as heirlooms paper 
patterns of trousers, waistcoats and coats, by which the 
various garments were cut, with occasional variations to 
conform somewhat to the changes of fashion. 
When Mrs. Gove lost the pattern of her husband's 
trousers she put him to that use, laying him down on the 
cloth spread out on the floor and marking around his 
legs with a bit of chalk, but the completed result was 
not a sartorial triumph, and the innovation was not 
tollowed. 
Exclusive of the few who employed the fashionable 
tailor and the many who employed no tailor, the But- 
tolphs found customers enough to give them a comfort- 
able living and something to lay by for a rainy day. 
Now, through confidence in an unscrupulous adven- 
turer, these savings were all gone as utterly and hope- 
lessly as if consumed by fire. 
It was two months or more since the blow had fallen 
tut the two women still felt stunned by it. They went 
mechanically about their work as if in a dream, with 
a dull, hopeless expectancy of awakening to a less hard 
reality. 
*T don't see what makes folks want to be so wicked," 
said I>yddy, the elder sister, as she ran the hissing goose 
along a seam. She was a thin little woman, so short of 
stature that she had to stand on tiptoe to reach the 
shoulders of her tall customers when she measured them. 
The flush of youth had faded from her wrinkled cheeks, 
but there was an afterglow of kindly light shining in her 
gray eyes that warmed one's heart more than the brighter 
glances of her sister's black eyes, though the embers of 
youth still shone b«ide the corkscrew curls that dangled 
from each of Nancy's temples. 
"What makes folks want to be sech fools?" said 
Nancy, tossing her curls and twitching at the needle 
which came reluctantly through the stout full cloth. 
"You mean us?" Lyddy asked. 
"Yes, or anybody that'll go an' trus' anybody that they 
don't know no more about 'an we did about that 
Bascom." 
Lyddy considered in silence while she moistened the 
seam with a bit of sponge wet in a convenient cup of 
water, and set the goose to, more vigorous hissing be- 
fore she answered. 
"I s'pose we was fools, but we hed comp'ny. There's 
Samuel Lovel, which he'd ha' ben wus off 'an we be if 
that ore bed hedn't turned up just as it did — I wish 't we 
could find one in our garden — an' there's Mis' Purin't'n, 
she trusted him some, she says, herself, an' has tewed 
niore abaout it 'an what we hev, an' that 'ere Jones boy 
put in nigh a hundred dollars, an' young Varney, he 
owns up to losin' all his father left him in the bank, an — 
wal, I do' know who all, but the's enough of 'era 
besides us." 
"It don't make us aout no less fools 'cause other folks 
was jest as big ones." 
"An' he was a candid 'pearin' man, the' can't nobody 
deny," Lyddy continued in extenuation of the fools and 
their folly. "I do' know as I ever see a nicer 'pearin' 
young man." 
"Han' some is 'at han'some does, I say," Nancy declared, 
with a desperate twitch at the reluctant needle. . "There! 
There goes another o' his needles — jest as onreliable as 
he is! I sh'd like tu feed 'em to him." 
"Nancy Buttolph!" her sister exclaimed in mild re- 
proof. "You know it'd kill him, an' we're tol' tu fugive 
aour enemies." 
"Scissors ! You can yourn if you're a min' tu ; I shan't." 
"If your looks didn't deceive you, you didn't alius 
feel so hard toward him," said Lyddy, bearing down on 
the goose with both hands, while the steam wreathed 
up about her face and intensified the odor of hot woolen 
stuff that pervaded the room. 
"Puh!" Nancy's scornful ejaculation rose above the 
sound of her sister's implement, and she dropped the 
broken needle into the black depths of a crack in the 
window casing. "It's a pity if folks can't treat folks 
'decent' 'thaout a-hevin' it flung in' the' face!" 
"You can't deny 't he wa'n't more'n common takin' 
tu you, Nancy." 
"Is the' anythin' cur'us abaout that?" Nancy asked. 
She did not finish threading the new needle before she 
studied the effect of the black eyes and the curls in the 
looking glass in the door of the Seth Thomas clock. 
"No, indeed, the' hain't, Lyddy assented, heartily, paus- 
ing a moment as she lugged the heavy goose to the 
stove to let her eyes follow her sister's and glance at 
her now unadorned image. She had given up the fight 
against the inevitable conquerer of youth, and wore a 
plain white cap like a flag of truce over her ihin grizzled 
locks and time-scored cheeks, and her dark gown was 
like a garment of mourning for hopes dead and de- 
parted. 
Nancy smoothed the hair upon her side combs with a 
moistened needle-worn finger, and gazed out the window, 
seeing only the visions of a day dream. 
"Wal, that hain't neither here nor there," Lyddy 
sighed, "but what I sh'd like to know is what's goin' 
tu become of us?" 
"I shan't go tu l^fiddlebury tu visit Cousin Seliny, 
that's one thing 'at '11 become o' me," said Nancy, re- 
suming her sewing. 
"J'fn dreffle sorry," and Lyddy sighed again, "You'd 
ha' seen so much s'ciety." 
The younger woman looked in the glass again and 
shut her lips tightly while the other continued: 
"I was cal'latin' 'at we'd hev this floor painted an' 
the walls whitewashed, now the flies is gone."_ She 
looked over the yellow floor to the white wood in the 
most exposed places, and sighed again. 
The scrupulously neat room, warmed by a polished 
cook stove, was kitchen, sewing room and sitting room. 
In front of it was the bed room of the sisters and the 
"square room," always dark in the day time, with its 
green window curtains down not only for the full display 
of the remarkable landscapes painted on them, beyond 
comparison with anything in the outer world, but also 
to keep the rag carpet from fading, for in those days a 
rag carpet was an article of elegant luxury. 
'T be turrible glad, though, 'at we got that carpet 
done an' them curtains whilst we could afford tu," 
Lyddy said, looking at the door and speaking as if she 
saw through it. "They make it pleasant for young 
folks. It don't make much odds tu me, but it's diff'ent 
with 3^ou." She took a snuf? box from her pocket and 
regaled herself with a pinch, whereupon Nancy laid down 
her work and retired to the bed room, whence she pres- 
ently came forth returning a handkerchief to the pocket 
of her apron and with her nostrils all a-bloom. Snuff 
taking did not comport with youth. 
"I do' know haow nor where we're a-goin' tu git aour 
winter's wood, ner yet aour pertaters. since aour gardin 
dried up so an' didn't du nothin'. I was cal'latin' on 
the intres' money for your goin' tu Middlebury an' tu git 
the wood an' pertaters; we c'n git along wi'aout much 
meat. Oh, hum a day! The Lord giveth an' the 'Lord 
taketh away." 
"He took away more'n he give, seem 's if. Jest look 
at Bascom an' aour money, an' the gardin a-failin' up 
so, an' not skeerce any work a-comin' in; seems 's 'oi^gh 
men folks hed gi'n up wearin' clo's," said Nancy, looking 
out of the window to a world that at a casual glance 
seemed clad in universal whiteness by the first available 
snow of the season. But as the eye dwelt on it farm- 
steads asserted their places in gray dots, roofed with 
deeper blue of shadow and brighter silver of sunlight; 
gray patches of deciduous woods bordered and jutted into 
the white fields; thin gray lines of fences severed farm 
from farm and field from field, and beyond all these rose 
the mountain barrier of darker hue, with grizzled black 
growth, rugged with ridges and ravines that leafy sum- 
mer never revealed. 
"If brother James hadn't acted so," said Lyddy, return- 
ing to her troubles, "an' gone oflf. Bein' a man, he 
wouldn't ha' be'n took in by that Bascom, nor yet ha' 
let us. The fust Buttolph 'at ever took tu drinkin' as 
fur as I ever heard — an' him as good a cooper as ever 
drove a hoop. An' naow he's goin' back sailin' tu the 
eend o' the airth on that turrible canawl, an' I can't sleep 
o' nights fur thinkin' of liim a-perilin' his life on the 
deep. An' he might be safe on land a-makin' pork ber- 
rils an' cheese casks, which everybody is a-wantin,' for 
they say 'at Uncle Rus'ell Raymond has got most past 
duin' any sort of a job o' cooperin'." 
"It's jest another case o' takin' awav," said Nancy, and 
she made further expression of her rebellious thoughts 
in the quick, spiteful jerks of her needle. 
For a considerable time the sisters preserved a silence 
that seemed the more intensified by the faint click of the 
thimbles on the needles, the drawing of the thread 
through the thick cloth, the tick of the clock and the 
snapping of the fire in the stove. 
At length Lyddy broke the long sifence by frugally 
replenishing the fire, saying as she came from the shed 
with a few sticks of wood, "When Darkter Stun pays 
us for turnin' this 'ere overcoat, we shall hev tu git us 
some wood; there hain't no tew ways abaout it." Then 
glancing- out of the little window over the sink, she 
exclaimed, "There's a snag o' teams a-comin' up the hill. 
It looks like a percession." 
"You don't s'pose the' 's a fun'al an' we hain't heard 
on't?" asked Nancy. "It's jest what anybody might ex- 
pect, holed up in the winter like woo'chucks." 
The women fluttered to the bed room window, which 
commanded a better view of the road. 
" 'Tain't no fun'al," Nancy declared. "It's a string o' 
wood teams a-goin' tu tlie village." 
Relieved that a funeral had not escaped their attend- 
ance, they returned to their work, which was hardly re- 
sumed when they heard the creaking of the snow under 
many pairs of feet, and heavy-laden runners and the 
long drawn shout of five teamsters halting as many 
yokes of oxen, each with its full sled load of stove wood 
crowned by a plethoric two-bushel bag. 
"What on airth !" exclaimed Lyddy, peeping out of the 
small window with but one eye exposed to the outer 
world, while Nancy took as guarded an observation at 
the opposite side. "Why, it's all Danvis turned loose. 
There's that gre't, awful John Dart 'mongst 'em. Be 
they all crazy, or what ails 'em?" 
"Come, go in, some of ye and find aout where the ol' 
gals want these 'taters dumped and this wood on- 
loaded," Dart called in a tone of cheerful impatience, as 
he came up from the rear to join the group that stood 
in bashful hesitation beside the front team. They looked 
from one to another, each hoping that some one would 
volunteer for the duty of spokesman. 
"You go, Joel," Sam said, when it appeared that no 
one would offer. "You're uster speakin' in meetin'." 
Joel Bartlett slowly shook his head, crowned with a 
broad-brimmed hat over a woolen cap of sanguinary and 
most un-Quakerly hue. 
"I don't feel clear, Samwel. It is thy place, seein' thee 
was the fust tu stir in the matter." 
"No, I only happened tu speak fust; you was all fast 
enough tu come. Let Solon go in; he can' alius find 
suthin' tu say." 
"I hain't legible tu the ofBce," Solon objected; "but 
here's Mr. Dart, he'd ort tu be oudagious enough not 
tu be embarrasted." 
"You don't ketch me in there alone," said the giant. 
"I hain't acquainted an' I'm afraid of ol' maids, an' 
more'n all that, Sary Ann's I'arnt me not tu speak tu 
no-womern but her. We'll send in Jozeff. Come, Jozeff, 
you hyper in." 
After much urging and many excuses and an elaborate 
clearing of his boots of snow upon the plank doorstep, 
Joseph Hill knocked and was bidden to enter. 
"Good mornin', gals," he said, with great volubility. 
"Be ye well? An' the chil — I mean your fam'ly, be 
they well?" 
"We,are tol'able well, Mr. Hill," said Lyddy, hoping 
he might be a customer, and while she spoke mentally 
measuring the broad figure before her. "Take a cheer 
an' set up tu the fire." 
"I'm 'bleeged tu ye, I don't care 'baout settin' arter 
ridin' all the way over here — that is to say, I might ha* 
rid, only I'd ruther go afoot. I jest run in of an arrent. 
The fact on't is — the way on't was, you see, Sam- 
wel kinder thought mebby — we didn't know but 
what you a-hevin' sech tormentin' luck wi' that 'er« 
plagued Bascom, you might be kinder short on't for your 
winter's wood^ — not hev quite so much, you know, as you 
might ha' hed if you'd hed a leetle mite more, you see, 
an' so, as we-all happened tu be a-goin' over tu the 
village, we jest, each on us, hove on a leetle jag, an' 
whilst we was abaout it we kinder flung on a bag o' 
'taters, jest tu stiddy the load, an' we don't want tu 
kerry 'em back, 'cause we all got more'n we want, an' 
naow if you'll show us where tu empty 'em we'll onload 
the wood jist where you say." 
When he stopped speaking for want of breath, he was 
still morfe disconcerted to perceive that his message was 
not received in a kindly spirit. Lyddy's mouth was 
pressed so tightly that it was scarcely distinguishable 
from the wrinkles which surrounded it, and she re- 
garded him with a stare made colder by the glitter of 
her spectacles, while Nancy's black eyes flashed and 
each separate ringlet shook with indignation. 
"We're turribly obleeged tu ye," Lyddy said, "but we 
hain't objecks o' charity." 
"When we be," Nancy interjected, "we'll send you 
word. You can take your wood an' pertaters right stret 
home ag'in." 
Joseph was so taken back by these rebuffs that he 
could not find a word to offer in apology, but made a 
precipitate retreat, gasping in a frightened undertone as 
he joined his companions: 
"Sam Hill ! the 'tarnal critters is drif'I pudchiky — 
madder'n tew settin' hens! You can't tech 'em wi' a 
ten-foot pole, not scarcely, an' they won't hev the wood 
nor nothin, an' say we c'n take it hmn again! Think 
we're insultin' of 'em. My land!" 
"Dum their stinkin' pride," John Dart growled. "What 
be we goin' tu do? We can't turn 'raound here loaded, 
an' if we could I wouldn't haul my load back over these 
cajullucks for it. Le's 's fling it off, an' if they don't like 
it they can lump it." 
"An' what'll we du with the 'taters?" Joseph queried. 
"Jes' 's like 's not they'll let 'em stay aout here an' 
freeze. Ait' anyways, they don't look 's if any one on 
'em could wrestle tew bushel o' 'taters, nor both on 'em 
tugether." 
"Oh, we can take the 'taters back an' give 'em tu An- 
twine. He won't turn up his nose at nothin' you give 
him," said John Dart. 
"Perhaps we can persuade Lyddy and Nancy to buy 
the wood for a small consideration," Joel Bartlett sug- 
gested. "They've got a worldly pride nat'ral tu the old 
Adam, ag'in takin' charity, an' we've got tu consider it. 
If you'll all fall in with the idea I feel free tu go in an' 
talk with the gals." 
"I've got the idee. See here," said Sam Lovel, "let's 
go in an' git measured for some clo's 'at we're agoin' tu 
hev made an' let the wood go toward the pay." 
"It looks sort o' decaitful," said Joel, but I do' know 
but it's kinder accordin' tu what was said by one for- 
merly abaout not lettin' the left hand know what the 
right hand dueth. Aour women folks do' know." 
"If I was 'quainted with these 'ere idgits, I'd go in 
an' spank 'em," John Dart declared. "But I don't know 
'em. Go ahead, Lovel." 
"I do' know what M'ri'll say," said Joseph. "I hain't 
said nothin' tu her 'baout hevin' of me any clo's." 
"We hain't got tu hev 'em cut till we git ready, only git 
measured," Sam whispered loudly. Thereupon he made 
for the door and entered without ceremony, followed by 
the others crowding upon his heels, except Joseph, who 
kept well in the rear. 
"Good mornin', Lyddy. Good mornin', Nancy," Sam 
said, heartily, and then without waiting for a return of 
the salutation, "I'm afeared Jozeff here didn't du aour 
arrent plain. The idee is, we all on us got tu hev us some 
clo's, an' we hain't got no money, so we cal'lated you'd 
be wantin' some wood an' 'taters, mebby, an' we could 
pay ye, part in barter in advance, an' the rest on't bime- 
by in cash or in barter, if that kind of a dicker will be 
agreeable." 
"Why, land sakes!" exclaimed Lyddy, her countenance 
changing its severe expression to one of surprise. "He 
never said one word abaout clo's. He kerried the idee 
'at you was a-givin' it all tu us as if we was a couple o' 
poppers." 
"Well, ye see, it kinder slipped my mind. I tol' 
M'ri 'fore I started 'at I'd got tu hev me some trowsers, 
an' she said she'd lost the partem an' I'd hafter git 
measured. Sam Hill ! I do' know haow I came tu fergit." 
"I darsay we can use the wood an' the pertaters," said 
Lydia, "if we can agree on the price. Haow much du 
you gentlemen think they're wuth?" 
"Wal, it's all body wood — beech an' maple — an' all 
ready fer the stove, an' I cal'late it's wuth tew dollars 
a cord, an' each on us has got a good half cord on, 
shouldn't you think the' was?" he inquired of his com- 
panions, while he winked very hard at them. 
"Not no more'n that," said big John Dart, and Solon 
thought "That was a estimatin' on't liberal," while Joel, 
whose conscience wouldn't permit him to assent to such 
a glaring deception, coughed and made his mouth so 
round that it almost whistled a note of surprise. 
"I shan't be able tu fetch ye the cloth for a hul suit 
ontil I git my sheep shore nex' summer an' kerry the 
wool tu the fact'ry an' git it made up; but if you're a min' 
tu measure me naow, I guess I shan't grow no more," 
said Dart. 
"An' I want thee to cut. me a plain coat," said Joel, 
single-breasted an' stan'in' collar — thee knows, Nancy — 
an' skirts not tew full." 
"You put crows' feet tu the comers of every pocket 0' 
mine ^0' three pairs 0' buttons on the tjiils," resumed 
