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 one another and exchanged bits of gossip as they went to
join their husbands. Soon the women, standing by their husbands, began to call to
their children, and the children came reluctantly, having to be called four or ve
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-age 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 paraphernalia for 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 some pieces of the box that had preceded it, the one that had been
