The Strike at Putney

"The Strike at Putney" is a novel by Lucy Maud Montgomery that delves into themes of social justice, community resilience, and the struggle for workers' rights. Set in the early 20th century, the story unfolds in the fictional town of Putney, where a labor strike leads to tensions between the working class and the authorities. Through well-drawn characters and poignant storytelling, Montgomery explores the complexities of human relationships against the backdrop of a significant social movement, highlighting the power of solidarity and the pursuit of fair treatment for all.

• Short story

								
The church at Putney was one that gladdened the hearts of all the
ministers in the presbytery whenever they thought about it. It was
such a satisfactory church. While other churches here and there were
continually giving trouble in one way or another, the Putneyites were
never guilty of brewing up internal or presbyterial strife.

The Exeter church people were always quarrelling among themselves and
carrying their quarrels to the courts of the church. The very name of
Exeter gave the members of presbytery the cold creeps. But the Putney
church people never quarrelled.

Danbridge church was in a chronic state of ministerlessness. No
minister ever stayed in Danbridge longer than he could help. The
people were too critical, and they were also noted heresy hunters.
Good ministers fought shy of Danbridge, and poor ones met with a chill
welcome. The harassed presbytery, worn out with "supplying," were
disposed to think that the millennium would come if ever the
Danbridgians got a minister whom they liked. At Putney they had had
the same minister for fifteen years and hoped and expected to have him
for fifteen more. They looked with horror-stricken eyes on the
Danbridge theological coquetries.

Bloom Valley church was over head and heels in debt and had no visible
prospect of ever getting out. The moderator said under his breath that
they did over-much praying and too little hoeing. He did not believe
in faith without works. Tarrytown Road kept its head above water but
never had a cent to spare for missions or the schemes of the church.

In bright and shining contradistinction to these the Putney church had
always paid its way and gave liberally to all departments of church
work. If other springs of supply ran dry the Putneyites
enthusiastically got up a "tea" or a "social," and so raised the
money. Naturally the "heft" of this work fell on the women, but they
did not mind--in very truth, they enjoyed it. The Putney women had the
reputation of being "great church workers," and they plumed themselves
on it, putting on airs at conventions among the less energetic women
of the other churches.

They were especially strong on societies. There was the Church Aid
Society, the Girls' Flower Band, and the Sewing Circle. There was a
Mission Band and a Helping Hand among the children. And finally there
was the Women's Foreign Mission Auxiliary, out of which the whole
trouble grew which convulsed the church at Putney for a brief time and
furnished a standing joke in presbyterial circles for years
afterwards. To this day ministers and elders tell the story of the
Putney church strike with sparkling eyes and subdued chuckles. It
never grows old or stale. But the Putney elders are an exception. They
never laugh at it. They never refer to it. It is not in the wicked,
unregenerate heart of man to make a jest of his own bitter defeat.

It was in June that the secretary of the Putney W.F.M. Auxiliary wrote
to a noted returned missionary who was touring the country, asking her
to give an address on mission work before their society. Mrs.
Cotterell wrote back saying that her brief time was so taken up
already that she found it hard to make any further engagements, but
she could not refuse the Putney people who were so well and favourably
known in mission circles for their perennial interest and liberality.
So, although she could not come on the date requested, she would, if
acceptable, come the following Sunday.

This suited the Putney Auxiliary very well. On the Sunday referred to
there was to be no evening service in the church owing to Mr.
Sinclair's absence. They therefore appointed the missionary meeting
for that night, and made arrangements to hold it in the church itself,
as the classroom was too small for the expected audience.

Then the thunderbolt descended on the W.F.M.A. of Putney from a clear
sky. The elders of the church rose up to a man and declared that no
woman should occupy the pulpit of the Putney church. It was in direct
contravention to the teachings of St. Paul.

To make matters worse, Mr. Sinclair declared himself on the elders'
side. He said that he could not conscientiously give his consent to a
woman occupying his pulpit, even when that woman was Mrs. Cotterell
and her subject foreign missions.

The members of the Auxiliary were aghast. They called a meeting
extraordinary in the classroom and, discarding all forms and
ceremonies in their wrath, talked their indignation out.

Out of doors the world basked in June sunshine and preened itself in
blossom. The birds sang and chirped in the lichened maples that cupped
the little church in, and peace was over all the Putney valley. Inside
the classroom disgusted women buzzed like angry bees.

"What on earth are we to do?" sighed the secretary plaintively. Mary
Kilburn was always plaintive. She sat on the steps of the platform,
being too wrought up in her mind to sit in her chair at the desk, and
her thin, faded little face was twisted with anxiety. "All the
arrangements are made and Mrs. Cotterell is coming on the tenth. How
can we tell her that the men won't let her speak?"

"There was never anything like this in Putney church before," groaned
Mrs. Elder Knox. "It was Andrew McKittrick put them up to it. I always
said that man would make trouble here yet, ever since he moved to
Putney from Danbridge. I've talked and argued with Thomas until I'm
dumb, but he is as set as a rock."

"I don't see what business the men have to interfere with us anyhow,"
said her daughter Lucy, who was sitting on one of the window-sills.
"We don't meddle with them, I'm sure. As if Mrs. Cotterell would
contaminate the pulpit!"

"One would think we were still in the dark ages," said Frances
Spenslow sharply. Frances was the Putney schoolteacher. Her father was
one of the recalcitrant elders and Frances felt it bitterly--all the
more that she had tried to argue with him and had been sat upon as a
"child who couldn't understand."

"I'm more surprised at Mr. Sinclair than at the elders," said Mrs.
Abner Keech, fanning herself vigorously. "Elders are subject to queer
spells periodically. They think they assert their authority that way.
But Mr. Sinclair has always seemed so liberal and broad-minded."

"You never can tell what crotchet an old bachelor will take into his
head," said Alethea Craig bitingly.

The others nodded agreement. Mr. Sinclair's inveterate celibacy was a
standing grievance with the Putney women.

"If he had a wife who could be our president this would never have
happened, I warrant you," said Mrs. King sagely.

"But what are we going to do, ladies?" said Mrs. Robbins briskly. Mrs.
Robbins was the president. She was a big, bustling woman with clear
blue eyes and crisp, incisive ways. Hitherto she had held her peace.
"They must talk themselves out before they can get down to business,"

								Rate this book:0.0 / 0 votes