Parson John’s Dishes

PARSON JOHN'S DISHES By Marguerite Cameron Polly Darnby peered longingly through the plate glass window of Book and Frank's new store. "Just what I want," she thought, as she counted up the pieces in the china set on display — "Bread and butters, vegetable dishes, gravy bowl and all. I must tell John." That evening after she had umpired a pillow fight and had finally settled her two cherubs in bed, Polly went down to the study. She told Parson John about the dishes. "Dear," she argued, "we have never had a whole set in our lives, and these are just what I want — only twenty-five dollars, too." "Now, Polly," cautioned Parson John, "we really don't need dishes. We seem to have plenty, as I remember." "But John, they're so disreputable — cracked, chipped, spotted black and brown." "Couldn't you buy a few to fill in?" he suggested. Polly laughed in good natured derision, "Then the plates would be laughing at the handleless cups, the cracked salt shaker would be disgracing the new sugar bowl, the — " "No use, Polly dear, we have college money to save for the boys. Not a cent for dishes." "What if we should have company?" flung Polly. John wagged his head. "Well, what if — ?" It was not many days after that Polly's "if" did come true. "Dear," Parson John confided, "the famous Dr. Lambert is coming Thursday. I have invited the whole Ministerial association for dinner." "For dinner — ?" gasped Polly. "It's very important," urged Parson John. "We want him to notice us. You see it's rumored that he has some good positions for the most likely men. I knew you could do the thing up brown, so — " "We'll try," comforted Polly. "But, John, the dishes — we'll have to have that new set." "Dishes? — Oh, make it go with what you have." Polly was disconsolate. If she could only earn something with which to buy those dishes. Or, if she could only convince John. But both suggestions were equally absurd. Surely, thought Polly, John didn't realize how preposterous it was to invite distinguished guests to dinner and then serve them in such fashion. However nothing could touch John's serenity of spirit. He

670 IMPROVEMENT ERA had such complete confidence in Polly that if his thoughts ever did recur to the subject of dishes, he must have thought her competent to seal all cracks, whiten all disfigurations and restore all chippings. He went about jubilant and untouched by such worries as dishes. Then came the day when John stood before his wife with three ten dollar bills in his hand. "Dishes, dishes," echoed through Polly's head, as she beheld the money. Parson John had surely relented. But no, not at all. "I want you to look your prettiest, darling," he told her. Get a new dress. Your green is looking — well — " Polly had already put down the paring knife. Dishes, beauti- ful gold banded dishes, — she could see them in Book and Frank's window. Now she could get them and have a wonderful party. To the wind these thoughts of a new dress. "A home bespeaks the housewife's character," she remembered having heard her mother say many, many times. On her shelves, decided Polly, the setting sun would see new dishes. That afternoon Polly hurried into Book and Frank's. The set of china was still unsold. She breathed a sigh of relief. She looked over every piece, tried the handles on the cups, investigated the open- ings of cream and milk pitchers. Before her flashed a picture of this gold banded china on her own good looking damask. From the serving dishes filtered the aroma of her own best cooking. And presently each guest from his own gold banded plate was exercising an unheard-of-before appetite. Parson John in his best bib and tucker was telling funny stories at his end of the table, while she sat listening intently — no, she was ill at ease, fidgeting about something. And then Polly saw herself as she would doubtless appear at the Ministerial Association dinner — in her old green dress. John's final words echoed in her ear: "I want you to look your prettiest, darling. Buy a new dress. Your green is looking — well — " Pretty bad evidently, or he wouldn't have said anything. Even if she had these dishes, Polly argued, how would her dilemma be corrected, if John and the guests thought her a frump in her old green silk? "I won't take the dishes today," she told the clerk. Polly hurried home. She routed out all the dishes her pantry afforded. She stacked them up, laid them out, stacked them again. It was tragic. She was to set the table for ten and here there were only eight half decent dinner plates. She and John might use saucers, unless — she pulled out two discouraging remnants of crockery and with a sigh placed them on top of the pile. The cups — she wouldn't serve coffee. And glasses — Had Polly had a mean disposition, or could she have taken any pleasure in shaming John before their guests, this would have been her chance. But she shuddered at the thought that their guests should

parson johns dishes 6? 1 discover their lack or ever come to credit Parson John with that lack. This was an important party. Some way or other she must put it over for John. Polly laid out the green silk on her bed. She had wondered if she might make it over. But it looked shabby and old now that John had spoken so disparagingly of it. It couldn't ever have been becoming even in its old frumpish way, she thought, as she tried it on. She simply must have something new. She consulted the shop windows. One frock lured her inside, up to the second floor and finally into the hands of a sales lady. "Just made for you," purred the girl, "Lines are splendid and such material — imported from — " Polly wavered. In this she could see herself at ease, in good form presiding at John's table, compelling his admiration, radiating to her guests the graciousness of a gracious hostess. But then there would be no money left for dishes. It had plainly become an issue of china or dress. She thought once to get the dishes and then make up some cheap voile for her- self. But it would be tawdry. John would be disappointed, the guests unimpressed and she would have failed. John had said, "Look your prettiest, darling." It comforted her to think John was still thinking that she could look pretty. "The lines are perfect," echoed the salesgirl. "I'll take it," said Polly. There was a great flurry all day in the parsonage kitchen. At five Polly swept proudly down the stairs and opened the front door to welcome the first guest. Back in the kitchen she gave Mrs. Hampstead last instructions, then viewed the table with critical eye. "A low bowl of flowers will cover things up a lot," she com- forted herself, as she induced a few daisies to straggle at greater length over the table cloth. '"If Dr. Lambert and the others will just keep their eyes on the daisies," she sighed, "and on my new dress." The dinner was glorious — a feast for kings. And at the foot of the table sat the resplendent hostess, graciousness itself. All eyes were upon her. The dishes — What matter that Rev. Darnby and his wife ate from two pieces of crockery, which might better have graced the ash can. Polly's charming hospitality waived all pretentions. These dishes were their best. She and John were happy to share what they had with their guests. Polly's eyes sparkled. Her cheeks flushed. The soft silk of her new gown clung in girlish grace around her shapely shoulders. "Mrs. Darnby," "My dear Mrs. Darnby," fluttered up and down the table. Everyone was talking to or about her. And the happy echo filled the ears of Parson John, who beamed his approval across the daisy field.

672 IMPROVEMENT ERA And so you will understand how little it really mattered that one plate broke in two when passed for a second serving. For a moment the misfortune threatened embarrassment. Every eye turned upon Dr. Lambert, who teetered one half of the ill fortuned plate in either hand. "Which?" his perplexed gaze seemed to inquire. Parson John held his breath. He started. The guests, one by one, began to notice. And then Polly bent to relieve her guest of the lesser portion. "The better half, Dr Lambert," she whispered in jovial mood. "Yes, yes," he grunted, relieved and happy not to have caused this charming Mrs. Darnby any embarrassment. And on and on the dinner whirled to a glorious conclusion. Polly Darnby smilingly and sympathetically had carried her guests through their mishaps and embarrassments and suddenly there had been no embarrassments. It had been the most glorious dinner in the annals of the association. "With a wife like Mrs. Darnby," Dr. Lambert puffed in Par- son John's ear, "a man is bound to step right along. Come to my office tomorrow, Darnby." The front door closed on the heels of the last dinner guest. "Polly, dear," Parson John put his arms around his wife, "you are a wonder." "But the dishes," she quavered, "Oh, John, they were dreadful." "Dishes?" he snorted. "What the deuce — " and then he laughed. "Can't fret me about dishes, Polly dear, as long as I have you." Portland, Oregon Moroni's Visit A hundred years have passed A prophet warrior he, Since down unto the world This angel who now came, An angel came from God, He once had lived on earth. The gospel flag unfurled; Moroni was his name, The gospel flag of peace, He was the messenger Proclaiming unto men Whom John beheld would fly The time was close at hand Through heaven's vast expanse When Christ would come again. And loud to men would cry. He unto Joseph spake, Joseph his words did heed Instructions to him gave; Although but then a' youth, Revealed the gospel plan With zeal he worked, until A dying world to save, He gave his life for truth: And told of records rare And now we thank our God Hid in Cumorah's hill, As we our voices raise That now should be revealed To testify these truths, The prophets to fulfil. And speak Jehovah's praise. Sharon Ward, Utah Stake. WlLLARD BISHOP.