a full-summer day; the flowers were blossoming profusely and the grass
was richly green. The people of the village began to gather in the
square, between the post office and the bank, around ten o'clock; in
some towns there were somany people that the lottery took two days and
had to be started on June 2th. but in this village, where there were
only about three hundred people, the whole lottery took less than two
hours, so it could begin at ten o'clock in the morning andstill be
through in time to allow the villagers to get home for noon dinner.
The children assembled first, of course. School was recently over for
the summer, and the feeling of liberty sat uneasily on most of them;
they tendedto gather together quietly for a while before they broke
into boisterous play.and their talk was still of the classroom and the
teacher, of books and reprimands. Bobby Martin had already stuffed his
pockets full of stones, and the other boys soon followed his example,
selecting the smoothest and roundest stones; Bobby and Harry Jones and
Dickie Delacroix-- the villagers pronounced this
name"Dellacroy"--eventually made a great pile of stones in one corner
of thesquare and guarded it against the raids of the other boys. The
girls stoodaside, talking among themselves, looking over their
shoulders at the boys. and the very small children rolled in the dust
or clung to the hands of their older brothers or sisters.
Soon the men began to gather. surveying their own children, speaking
of planting and rain, tractors and taxes. They stood together, away
from the pile of stones in the corner, and their jokes were quiet and
they smiled rather than laughed. The women, wearing faded house
dresses and sweaters, came shortly after their menfolk. They greeted
oneanother and exchanged bits of gossip as they wentto join their
husbands. Soon the women, standingby their husbands, began to call to
their children, and the children came reluctantly, having to be called
four or five times. Bobby Martin ducked under his mother's grasping
hand and ran, laughing, back to the pile of stones. His father spoke
up sharply, and Bobby came quickly and took his place between his
father and his oldest brother.
The lottery was conducted--as were the square dances, the teen club,
the Halloween program--by Mr. Summers.who had time and energy to
devote to civic activities. He was a round-faced, jovial man and he
ran the coal business, and people were sorry for him.because he had no
children and his wife was a scold. When he arrived in the square,
carrying the black wooden box, there was a murmur of conversation
among the villagers, and he waved and called. "Little late today,
folks." The postmaster, Mr. Graves, followed him, carrying a three-
legged stool, and the stool was put in the center of the square and
Mr. Summers set the black box down on it. The villagers kept their
distance, leaving a space between themselves and the stool. and when
Mr. Summers said, "Some of you fellows want to give me a hand?" there
was a hesitation before two men. Mr. Martin and his oldest son,
Baxter. came forward to hold the box steady on the stool while Mr.
Summers stirred up the papers inside it.
The original paraphernaliafor the lottery had been lost long ago, and
the black box now resting on the stool had been put into use even
before Old Man Warner, the oldest man in town, was born. Mr. Summers
spoke frequently to the villagers about making a new box, but no one
liked to upset even as much tradition as was represented by the black
box. There was a story that the present box had been made with
somepieces of the box that had preceded it, the one that had been
constructed when the first people settled down to make a village here.
Every year, after the lottery, Mr. Summers began talking again about a
new box, but every year the subject was allowed to fade off without
anything's being done.
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