292 
Z>he  RURAL  NEW-YORKER 
February  19,  191G. 
WOMAN  AND  HOME 
The  Freedom  Suit 
Cora  sat  at  the  window,  looking  at  111" 
Sunday  supplement  Asc  brought  back 
with  the  middlings;  she  reflected  that 
reading  a  Sunday  supplement  on  Wednes¬ 
day  was  something  like  weaving  her  use¬ 
ful  brown  serge  frock  long  after  the  vil¬ 
lage  girls  had  put  on  crisp  linens.  She 
had  no  right  to  sit  down  with  a  paper 
either,  for  the  dishes  were  all  standing, 
and  the  whirr  of  her  mother's  sewing 
machine,  plowing  its  way  through  the 
wristbands  of  Ase’s  new  outing  shirt,  was 
an  insistent  call  to  duty.  She  turned 
over  a  page  where  a  beautiful  white  duck 
midshipman  rescued  a  lady  in  a  Spanish 
mantilla,  to  continue  a  story  of  the  won¬ 
ders  of  French  cookery.  She  had  got  far 
enough  to  learn  that  the  pot  an  feu  that 
excited  her  imagination,  was  but  the  fam¬ 
ily  soup,  when  her  mother's  voice  floated 
across  the  entry : 
“When  you  do  get  the  dishes  done, 
Cora,  you'd  better  fix  some  scalloped  po¬ 
tatoes  for  supper.  And  see  how  the 
doughnuts  are  holding  out ;  it  wouldn't 
he  a  had  plan  to  make  a  pan  of  ginger¬ 
bread." 
Cora  wrinkled  her  forehead  and  started 
to  clear  away  the  belated  dishes.  The 
soup  plates  were  heaped  untidily  on  a 
side  table,  with  disagreeable  little  hard 
blobs  of  fat  around  their  edges;  Cora 
knew  just  how  bothersome  it  would  ho  to 
wash  off.  and  how  the  sink  would  look 
afterwards.  There  was  never  any  fat  on 
the  French  pot  an  fen.  she  was  told, 
though  there  seemed  no  special  reason 
why  a  Normandy  farmer  who  kept  his 
manure  pile  in  front  of  the  house,  should 
luxuriate  in  better  cooking  than  her  own 
family. 
Cora  washed  the  dishes  and  made  the 
gingerbread ;  she  doctored  a  turkey  m 
quarantine  under  suspicion  of  black-head, 
fed  a  lot  of  young  chickens,  gathered  eggs, 
and  did  a  ladylike  hit  of  carpentering  on 
SOnic  hovers  the  men  folks  had  not  got 
around  to.  Then  she  ripped  an  old  hen- 
rietta  dress  that  she  could  tnayhc  make 
into  one  of  those  smart  little  skirls  with 
pockets  if  she  had  a  packet  of  dye  t  > 
change  its  faded  neutral  tint  to  a  becom¬ 
ing  golden  brown.  Later  she  went  about 
the  supper  preparations  while  Mrs.  Lin¬ 
ton  still  stitched  steadily,  intent  on  get¬ 
ting  to  the  restful  part  of  the  work  where 
you  just  sit  around  and  make  peaceful 
hill  to u holes. 
“Couldn't  you  give  a  hand  with  the 
milking?”  asked  Asp,  just  as  his  sister 
look  the  cover  off  the  potatoes  for  the 
filial  browning.  Cora  agreed,  though  not 
with  very  good  grace;  she  hated  milking 
*  and  she  had  hoped  to  explore  the  Sunday 
supplement  a  little  further. 
“I’m  going  to  town  for  my  freedom 
suit,  and  I’ve  got  to  get  there  before  the 
express  office  closes,”  and  Ase  continued 
with  tin*  obtusencss  of  a  brother,  to  dwell 
on  the  attractions  of  blue  serge,  while 
Cora  worked  away  at  a  rather  hard- 
milking  cow,  and  felt  the  beginnings  of 
that  feminine  revolt  that  sometimes  takes 
the  form  of  tears,  and  sometimes  of  bricks, 
according  to  the  varying  points  of  pre¬ 
cipitation. 
The  Linton  farm  was  run  upon  some¬ 
what  conservative  hut  eminently  profit¬ 
able  lines.  Asa  Linton,  the  elder,  knew 
times  had  changed — you  couldn't  starve 
the  long-cropped  soil,  and  you  could  no 
longer  raise  sheep  when  every  village 
idler  kept  a  vagrant  dog.  hut  in  family 
management  he  planned  exactly  as  his 
father  did.  Thus  Cora  and  Mrs.  Linton 
managed  a  large  poultry  yard,  which  paid 
the  grocery  hills  and  gave  a  surplus  for 
small  farm  expenses,  while  Ase  was  ex¬ 
pected  to  work  for  hoard  and  clothes,  as 
all  his  young  neighbors  did,  until  he  came 
of  age,  when  he  received  his  "freedom 
suit,”  to  he  paid  thereafter  like  any  reg¬ 
ular  hired  man.  This  was  old-fashioned, 
hut  equitable — only  Cora  never  came  of 
age,  and  the  only  freedom  suit  she  could 
look  forward  to  was  a  wedding  gown, 
which  would  put  her  in  another  farm¬ 
house  to  work  on  similar  terms. 
Ase’s  freedom  suit  became  him  might¬ 
ily.  and  though  liis  first  month's  wages 
were  too  important  to  he  wasted  in 
spendthrift  ways,  he  gave  his  sister  a 
whole  dollar,  with  the  kindly  advice  to 
buy  anything  she  wanted.  Unfortunately 
one  dollar,  while  it  suggested  unlimited 
possibilities,  wouldn't  provide  a  linen 
suit  and  a  near-Panama  hat  and  white 
pumps  and  chamois  gloves,  especially  as 
her  work  aprons  were  a  sight,  so  it  finally 
resulted  in  nothing  more  exciting  than  a 
packet  of  dye  and  a  roll  of  gingham.  Her 
father  bought  it  when  he  went  to  town 
one  busy  morning,  and  he  selected  a  good 
serviceable  brown  check  that  was  Cora’s 
special  abomination. 
"You  know,  mother,"  remarked  Cora 
one  evening,  as  she  sprinkled  the  clothes 
while  her  mother  picked  elusive  bones  out 
of  some  cod-fish,  “I’ve  just  got  to  have 
some  clothes  pretty  soon.  Don’t  you 
think  you  could  break  it  to  father,  so  !t 
wouldn't  he  so  hard  to  ask  him?” 
“I  don't  know,”  responded  Mrs,  Linton 
with  visible  nervousness.  ‘‘You  know 
how  big  the  fertilizer  hills  are,  and  here’s 
Ase  drawing  wages  like  a  regular  hired 
man.” 
“Well,  I’ve  let  down  every  tuck  and  all 
I  lie  hem  in  my  old  white  dress,”  re¬ 
sponded  Cora,  “and  if  I’m  to  keep  on  go¬ 
ing  to  church  this  Summer  I  guess  I'll 
have  to  borrow  a  couple  of  grain  sacks; 
they  would  make  a  real  stylish  skirt,  and 
then  if  1  take  a  strawberry  basket,  and 
trim  it.  with  the  old  Plymouth  Lock 
rooster.  I'll  he  all  fixed.”  and  Cora  hanged 
some  sheets  info  the  clothes  basket. 
Mrs.  Linton  sighed  a  little,  and  consid¬ 
ered  how  much  or  how  I  i 1 1 1  e — of  her  egg 
money  would  he  left  after  buying  the  bar¬ 
rel  of  flour  due  next  week,  and  making 
provision  for  an  extra  fourteen  pounds  of 
sugar.  When  church  time  approached 
the  next  Sunday  Cora's  wardrobe  was 
certainly  out  of  harmony  with  the  warm 
and  sunny  day.  She  put  on  (lie  brown 
serge  dress,  that  was  only  made  present¬ 
able  by  its  embroidered  collar,  and  smiled 
at  her  mother  fx'urti  beneath  a  shoe-blacked 
straw  Imt  that;  was  somewhat  pathetically 
in  coni  east  with  Ase's  crisp  newness, 
lint  Cora's  sparkling  hazel  eyes  and  wav¬ 
ing  hair,  which  had  just  a  suspicion  of 
red  in  its  shining  cites! nut.  were  not 
dimmed  even  by  a  back-number  hat.  She 
sang  like  a  bobolink  through  a  rather 
lugubrious  hymn,  and  looked  quite  with¬ 
out  feminine  criticism  at  the  Magrew 
girls  in  some  wonderful  hats  that,  com¬ 
puted  in  farm  currency,  stood  for  about  a 
ton  of  hay  apiece.  This  was  Ase’s  de¬ 
scription  of  them  when  Cora  made  some 
sisterly  gibe  at  his  admiration  for  Ettic 
Magrew. 
“But  then  it.  wasn't  tons  of  hay  that 
bought  those  hats,”  observed  Cora. 
“Ft tie’s  in  the  dentist’s  office  over  at 
Marksbury,  and  Mattie’s  a  stenographer, 
and  when  they  want  lints  or  rubbers  or 
ice  cream  sodas  they  just  take  them  out 
of  their  own  pay  envelopes.” 
“It’s  dreadful  hard  on  Mis’  Magrew, 
havin’  both  girls  away,”  observed  Uncle 
.Tim  Corliss,  who  stood  by  the  wheel  of 
the  surrey,  discoursing  <>n  milk  contract¬ 
ors  and  their  iniquities.  “Seems  like  girls 
ain't  satisfied  with  staying  home  any 
more,”  and  Uncle  Jim  moved  aside  as  Mr. 
Linton  took  lip  the  lines. 
“Art  Magrew  stays  right  on  the  job 
though,”  observed  Ase  cheerfully.  “lie's 
working  on  shares  with  his  father  now, 
and  the  stuff  they're  growing  for  the  can¬ 
nery  looks  slick  as  a  whistle.  I’ll  bet 
Art's  share  will  double  all  the  pay  the 
girls  get  in  town,  in  spite  of  their  flossy 
clothes.” 
“What  part  of  their  pay  envelopes 
would  they  clear  every  week,  doing  house¬ 
work  and  milking  at  home?”  asked  Cora 
in  an  undertone,  looking  at  her  father's 
square  shoulders  in  the  front  seat. 
“Why  Cora  !”  said  her  mother  in  a 
scandalized  tone,  and  Cora  subsided,  feel¬ 
ing  guilty  of  the  indecency  of  suggesting 
mere  sordid  business  dollars,  instead  <>f  a 
ladylike  hand-out  as  the  reward  of  labor. 
However,  the  stranger  woman  who  had 
rented  the  Curley  place,  where  she  lived 
with  a  big  Finnish  girl  and  no  visible 
means  of  support,  had  a  passion  for  wild 
strawberries,  and  Cora  picked  enough  to 
buy  a  challie  dress  length,  and  so  if  she 
only  had  a  hat  and  shoes  and  a  piece  of 
longeloth,  and  perhaps  such  unwonted 
luxury  as  a  few  yards  of  cotton  crepe  and 
a  sash  of  that  new  shade  of  rose,  fate 
could  offer  her  no  more.  Indeed,  Cora's 
longings  for  unattainable  wealth  never 
got  beyond  tin*  sum  many  a  woman  tosses 
down  carelessly  for  a  smart  French 
blouse — so  wide  is  the  gap  between  un¬ 
earned  luxury  and  lmrd-working  thrift. 
It  was  her  usual  custom,  two  or  three 
times  a  year,  to  wait  for  a  day  when  her 
father  had  sold  off  some  crop  or  Stock 
(carefully  selecting  a  period  widely  re¬ 
moved  from  taxes  or  fertilizer  hills  or 
some  big  breakdown  in  farm  machinery ) 
— then,  after  supper,  with  her  mother  to 
offer  her  moral  support,  she  would  put  in 
her  plea  for  the  needed  dollars  and  cents. 
Many  a  hardened  criminal  has  gone  to  the 
scaffold  more  light-heartedly — and  yet 
Asa  Linton  was  a  good  father  and  hus¬ 
band — only  he  still  thought,  as  his  great 
grandfather  thought,  before  him,  that  he 
“supported”  his  women  folks,  and  gave 
them  their  occasional  dole  as  a  bonus.  So 
with  several  mild  festivities  in  view,  and 
a  shoe-polished  hat  that  could  not  ho  con¬ 
sidered.  by  the  most  optimistic,  as  suit¬ 
able  for  a  church  excursion,  Cora  screwed 
lip  her  courage  one  evening,  and  after 
clearing  her  throat  and  fidgeting  with  her 
crocheting,  she  suddenly  plunged  into  the 
middle  of  things  with  a, slight  gasp. 
“Father,  I  want  a  new  hat  and  a  pair 
of  white  shoes  and  dimity  to  make  a 
dress.” 
“'Why,  that  seems  quite  an  order  at 
once,  daughter,”  said  her  father  easily. 
“I’m  going  to  give  you  something  to  help 
out  when  the  early  peaches  come  on — 
you’re  a  real  man  at  packing  fruit — hut 
I  guess  your  mother  can  get  what  you 
really  need  when  she  trades  the  next  lot 
of  eggs."  lie  spoke  cheerfully,  as  one 
would  answer  a  small  child  with  a  sud¬ 
den  craving  for  Ihe  moon.  “I  don’t  want 
my  daughter  to  get  wasteful  notions  from 
seeing  those  citified  Magrew  girls.”  Mr. 
Linton,  putting  down  his  paper,  went  out 
to  take  his  final  look  around  the  barn, 
and  it  was  not  until  the  next  morning 
that  Mrs.  Linton  had  an  opportunity  t<i 
speak  to  Cora  of  her  disappointment. 
“You  mustn’t  think  your  father  means 
to  stint  you.  Cora,”  she  said  rather  diffi¬ 
dently.  “It’s  just  liis  way;  his  mother 
never  even  handled  a  cent  of  the  egg  and 
butter  money;  his  father  did  all  the  trad-, 
ing  for  her.” 
“Anyway,  we  do  the  buying,”  remarked 
Cora,  “even  if  our  hens  earn  the  family 
groceries.  Abby  Morton’s  father  won’t 
let  her  trade  out  so  niucli  as  a  five-eent 
box  of  crackers,  and  she’s  crazy  for 
boughteu  giugersnaps.  Blit  it  must  he  fun 
to  work  for  real  wages,  and  have  money 
in  your  own  pocket.”  Then  Cora  began 
to  rattle  (lie  shining  milk  pails,  and  her 
mother  turned  to  her  crowded  sink  with  a 
fa  ini  sigh,  reminiscent,  of  that  state  of 
life  in  which  one  may  have  comfort  and 
plenty,  without  one  casual  penny  to  rub 
against  another. 
The  early  poaches  ontne  on,  and  Cora 
sorted  and  packed  with  her  usual  skill. 
So  good  were  the  returns  Unit  Asa  Lin¬ 
ton.  remembering  his  daughter’s  request, 
came  hack  from  town  with  a  pair  of 
white  shoes  for  her,  which  Cora  accepted 
very  gratefully,  though  her  dreams  had 
been  of  smartly  buckled  pumps  instead  of 
four-eyelet  ties.  Even  while  she  thanked 
her  father  for  the  shoes  she  thought  of 
tin1  white  dress  that  was  non-existent, 
which  was  the  reason  why  a  wash-boiler 
simmered  on  the  stove  most  of  the  next 
day,  to  he  followed  by  an  eruption  of 
white  material  on  Ihe  clothes-line. 
“Well,  for  a  girl  who  never  has  any 
clothes  you  look  lolerahly  serum,”  re¬ 
marked  Ase  a  week  later.  They  were  all 
going  to  a  field  meeting  that:  was  to  call 
out  all  sorts  of  agricultural  celebrities, 
and  Cora  looked  very  pretty  in  a  crisp 
white  frock,  with  a  wide  hat  of  shirred 
white  net  framing  her  bright  hair. 
"The  dross  is  two  washed-out  dimities 
with  the  color  boiled  out  of  them,  and  the 
hat  is  Aunt  Selina’s  old  Brussels  net 
waist  that  she  gave  me  because  it  was  too 
unstylish  for  her  to  wear.  And  I  made 
my  belt  and  hat  trimming  out  of  that 
awful  satin  mantel  drape  you  got  at  the 
veteran’s  fair.” 
"Well,  a  girl  can  make  her  clothes  out 
of  anything;  it’s  different  with  a  fellow 
who  lias  to  pay  out  good  money  for  every¬ 
thing  he  wears."  and  Ase  in  his  "freedom 
Suit"  helped  his  mother  and  sister  into 
the  lately  acquired  motor-car,  and  the 
family  started,  while  And.v,  the  elderly 
hired  man,  watched  them  out  of  sight. 
Andy  had  no  weakness  for  field  meetings; 
his  idea  of  a  restful  holiday  was  an  ex¬ 
periment  in  painting  the  buggy,  or  an  at¬ 
tempt  to  construct  a  practical  lime 
spreader  out  of  a  heap  of  miscellaneous 
junk.  (To  be  continued) 
“  Cora  ....  in  a  crisp  white  frock  and  wide  hat  framing  her  bright  hair.” 
