Story of Waitstill Baxter | Page 8

twenty-five he was selected to fill a vacancy and became a deacon,
thinking it might be good for trade, as it was, for some years. He was
very active at the time of the "Cochrane craze," since any defence of
the creed that included lively detective work and incessant spying on
his neighbors was particularly in his line; but for many years now,
though he had been regular in attendance at church, he had never
officiated at communion, and his diaconal services had gradually
lapsed into the passing of the contribution-box, a task of which he
never wearied; it was such a keen pleasure to make other people yield
their pennies for a good cause, without adding any of his own!
Deacon Baxter had now been a widower for some years and the
community had almost relinquished the idea of his seeking a fourth
wife. This was a matter of some regret, for there was a general feeling
that it would be a good thing for the Baxter girls to have some one to
help with the housework and act as a buffer between them and their

grim and irascible parent. As for the women of the village, they were
mortified that the Deacon had been able to secure three wives, and
refused to believe that the universe held anywhere a creature benighted
enough to become his fourth.
The first, be it said, was a mere ignorant girl, and he a beardless youth
of twenty, who may not have shown his true qualities so early in life.
She bore him two sons, and it was a matter of comment at the time that
she called them, respectively, Job and Moses, hoping that the
endurance and meekness connected with these names might somehow
help them in their future relations with their father. Pneumonia, coupled
with profound discouragement, carried her off in a few years to make
room for the second wife, Waitstill's mother, who was of different fibre
and greatly his superior. She was a fine, handsome girl, the orphan
daughter of up-country gentle-folks, who had died when she was
eighteen, leaving her alone in the world and penniless.
Baxter, after a few days' acquaintance, drove into the dooryard of the
house where she was a visitor and, showing her his two curly-headed
boys, suddenly asked her to come and be their stepmother. She
assented, partly because she had nothing else to do with her existence,
so far as she could see, and also because she fell in love with the
children at first sight and forgot, as girls will, that it was their father
whom she was marrying.
She was as plucky and clever and spirited as she was handsome, and
she made a brave fight of it with Foxy; long enough to bring a daughter
into the world, to name her Waitstill, and start her a little way on her
life journey,--then she, too, gave up the struggle and died. Typhoid
fever it was, combined with complete loss of illusions, and a kind of
despairing rage at having made so complete a failure of her existence.
The next year, Mr. Baxter, being unusually busy, offered a man a good
young heifer if he would jog about the country a little and pick him up
a housekeeper; a likely woman who would, if she proved energetic,
economical, and amiable, be eventually raised to the proud position of
his wife. If she was young, healthy, smart, tidy, capable, and a good
manager, able to milk the cows, harness the horse, and make good

butter, he would give a dollar and a half a week. The woman was found,
and, incredible as it may seem, she said "yes" when the Deacon (whose
ardor was kindled at having paid three months' wages) proposed a
speedy marriage. The two boys by this time had reached the age of
discretion, and one of them evinced the fact by promptly running away
to parts unknown, never to be heard from afterwards; while the other, a
reckless and unhappy lad, was drowned while running on the logs in
the river. Old Foxy showed little outward sign of his loss, though he
had brought the boys into the world solely with the view of having one
of them work on the farm and the other in the store.
His third wife, the one originally secured for a housekeeper, bore him a
girl, very much to his disgust, a girl named Patience, and great was
Waitstill's delight at this addition to the dull household. The mother
was a timid, colorless, docile creature, but Patience nevertheless was a
sparkling, bright-eyed baby, who speedily became the very centre of
the universe to the older child. So the months and years wore on,
drearily enough, until, when Patience was nine, the third Mrs. Baxter