ney and get Mr. Hoover to buy him a
pair when he hauls corn to town Monday?"

"Yes, indeed, we can," answered Mother Mayberry, radiant at the very
thought of this relief proposition. "It's a heap more important to
carpet the Deacon with britches than the church floor right now.
Between them and her old bombersine, Mis' Bostick have spent the year
with her patch-thimble on her finger."

"I declare, it hurts me so in church to look at her elbows and back
seams that I can't hardly listen to the Deacon pray. Patching is the
most worrisome job a woman has to do, according to my mind," said the
widow, with an expression of distaste on her beaming face. "I've done
patched two men, and I know what I'm talking about."

"It is a trial," answered Mother Mayberry, "and Mis' Bostick's life
have been a patched one at the best, a-moving in the Methodist wagon
from one station to another and a-trying every time to cut herself out
by a new style to suit each congregation, Anyway, I reckon all women's
lives have wored thin and had to be darned in some places, but patches
on her garment of life ain't going to make no difference to a woman
when she puts it on to meet her Lord, just so it's cut on the charity
mantle pattern. And Mis' Bostick's was hung to cover the multitude. But
a-talking here have made me sprout a idea: 'Liza Pike have blazed the
trail for us, bless her little heart! Her mother don't never cook a
single thing that 'Liza haven't got a dish handy to beg some for the
Deacon and Mis' Bostick. And she don't stop at her own cook stove, but
she's always here looking into what Cindy cooks with an eye to the old
folk's sweet-tooths or chicken-hankers. I know, too, she gets what she
wants from you for them, so there is our leading. The Deacon loves
'Liza, and she is such a entertainment to him that he'd eat ten meals a
day at her dictation and no questions asked. And she do beat all with
her mothering ways with them old folks. Last Wednesday night she had
Deacon a-leading prayer meeting with a red flannel band around his
throat for his croaks, and just yesterday she made Mis' Bostick stay in
bed half the day, covered up head and ears, to sweat off a little
nose-dripping cold. She's always a-consulting Tom and leaving me out. I
think she's got her eye on my practice. They never was such a
master-hand of a child in Providence before."

"There you are right," laughed the widow. "It's getting so that they
ain't a child on the Road