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A few smiled at Old War-Wool Eaton, who desired so urgently to be remembered, when no one was likely to forget him; but all agreed that it was, at the worst, a harmless and natural folly. "Let him be remembered," said one, with a large impartiality. "'T won't do us no hurt, an' we shall have the clock an' bell."
The homely beauty of it smote upon him, though it could not cheer. A hideous progress seemed to threaten, not alone the few details it touched, but all the sweet, familiar things of life. Old War-Wool Eaton, in assailing the town's historic peace, menaced also the crickets and the breath of asters in the air. He was the rampant spirit of an awful change.
"Do they so?" asked Caleb, but Nicholas returned, with an unwonted fierceness: "Does that go to the right spot with you? Do you want to see a clock-face starin' over Tiverton, like a full moon, chargin' ye to keep Old War-Wool Eaton in memory?" "Well, no," replied Eli gently, "I dunno's I do, an' I dunno but I do."
Old War-Wool Eaton, in assailing the town's historic peace, menaced also the crickets and the breath of asters in the air. He was the rampant spirit of an awful change. So, in the bitterness of revolt, Nicholas Oldfield marched on, and stepped silently into the little schoolhouse, to meet his fellows. They were standing about in groups, each laying down the law according to his kind.
'Father'll want to be on hand, says he." Mr. Oldfield pushed back his cup, and then his chair. He bent his keen blue eyes upon her. "Town meetin' this time o' year?" said he. "What for?" "Oh, it's about the celebration. Old Mr. Eaton" "What Eaton?" "William W." "He that went away in war time, an' made money in wool? Old War-Wool Eaton?" Nicholas nodded, at her assent, and his look blackened.
A few smiled at Old War-Wool Eaton, who desired so urgently to be remembered, when no one was likely to forget him; but all agreed that it was, at the worst, a harmless and natural folly. "Let him be remembered," said one, with a large impartiality. "'T won't do us no hurt, an' we shall have the clock an' bell."
"Does that go to the right spot with you? Do you want to see a clock-face starin' over Tiverton, like a full moon, chargin' ye to keep Old War-Wool Eaton in memory?" "Well, no," replied Eli gently, "I dunno's I do, an' I dunno but I do." "Might set a lantern back' o' the dial, an' take turns lightin' on 't," suggested Brad Freeman.
'Father'll want to be on hand, says he." Mr. Oldfield pushed back his cup, and then his chair. He bent his keen blue eyes upon her. "Town meetin' this time o' year?" said he. "What for?" "Oh, it's about the celebration. Old Mr. Eaton" "What Eaton?" "William W." "He that went away in war time, an' made money in wool? Old War-Wool Eaton?" Nicholas nodded, at her assent, and his look blackened.
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