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Updated: June 17, 2025
Tom had never heard any argument against intemperance, only that it was expensive. Now he hated all the petty meanness that he had been so carefully taught. The first evening that Tom went into the bar-room of the Millford hotel he was given a royal welcome. They were a jolly crowd! They knew how to enjoy life, Tom told himself. What's the good of money if you can't have a little fun with it?
Crocks at the corner, just before she took the street to the station, this would have been a different story. But who knows? We never get a chance to try the other way, and it is best and wisest and easiest of comprehension to believe that whatever is, is best! Mrs. Crocks was easily the best informed person regarding local happenings, in the small town of Millford. She really knew.
From the time when she was twelve years old the young doctor, who had then just come to Millford, had been her hero worshipped afar, and in great secrecy.
Peter was complimented to be received so cordially. He was sure he could make this genial, courteous, kindly old gentleman see certain questions from a new view-point. He must see it. "Perhaps you have heard of a girl at Millford who is making somewhat of a stir along the lines of the Woman Suffrage question," Peter began.
I'll speak to Driggs about it as soon as I go back, and you may expect to see on the front page of the 'Mercury' something like this: 'I, Horace Clay, physician of the village of Millford, hereby warn the public I will not be responsible for my wife's debts."
This retort naturally brought down the house, and the local member was not heard from again' terribly cheeky, of course, but rather neat, sir, don't you think?" The Cabinet Minister took a thick cigar from his vest pocket, without replying. "Who is the member from Millford," he demanded.
Just look in the crack there and you'll see if he ain't sick." Mrs. Motherwell did see. Arthur lay tossing and moaning across his bed, his letter pad and pencil beside him on the floor. Mrs. Motherwell did not want Tom to go to Millford that night. One of the harvesters' excursions was expected was probably in then there would be a wild time. Besides, the two-dollar bill still worried her.
Tom had not been detained at all, but Mrs. Motherwell always used this form of salutation to be sure. Tom grumbled a reply, and handing out the mail began to unhitch. Mrs. Motherwell read the addresses on the Englishman's letters: Mr. Arthur Wemyss, c/o Mr. S. Motherwell, Millford P.O., Manitoba, Canada, Township 8, range 16, sec't. 20. North America.
Crocks when the Watsons family lived in Millford, but since they had gone to the farm and prosperity had come to them as evidenced by their better clothes, their enlarged house, their happier faces, and more particularly Pearl's success in her school work in the city, all of which had appeared in the local paper, for the editor was enthusiastic for his own town Mrs.
They sewed in silence for a few minutes. Then Pearl said: "Let us go to bed now, ma, me eyes are shuttin'. I'll go back to-morrow and ask Camilla about the 'oliver." Mary Barner had learned the lesson early that the only easing of her own pain was in helping others to bear theirs, and so it came about that there was perhaps no one in Millford more beloved than she.
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