The sun, lifting his countenance above the horizon that morning,
centred his whole attention upon a pair of polished brass-bound hubs.
The rest of the scene, grass and flowers "in unrespective same," formed
a mere background on the general plane of existence while the sun
beamed upon the brass--delighted, no doubt, to find an affinity in this
unexpected place.
We accentuate the detail slightly, our reason being that Janet,
whenever she had occasion to tell how it all happened, was sure to make
mention of the brass hubs. Unconscious as she may have been of it at
the time, the hubs commanded the scene and formed the shining
high-light of memory's picture; and as the years passed they took on a
still brighter polish.
The hubs belonged to a snug-looking Rockaway buggy. Hitched to the
buggy was her own horse, which was tied to a post of the corral. The
gate of the corral was open and the sheep were gone. Jonas's outfit
was gone too; there was nobody in sight.
As she stood looking and wondering, Steve emerged from the gully; and
having saluted her in his usual manner he began to explain to her how
the change was wrought. When he returned late that night and found
that Jonas Hicks was in charge, he saw his way clear to solve her
transportation problems. As a horse without a saddle would hardly do
for her, he remounted and rode almost to town on the main road, where
he borrowed a buggy. Getting back again he found that the
much-expected herder had put in his appearance with a man to help him;
the two were now out with the sheep. The wagon had not arrived because
the bed with sheep-stalls was out of repair; a second helper would come
with it later in the day and in the meantime Jonas would follow the
flock with his wagon and two yoke of oxen.
As to Mr. Pete Harding, that delinquent, instead of being
conscience-smitten by his long absence, had returned as one who is the
bearer of glad tidings, the burden of his song being that he had been
most surpassingly drunk. Steve, taking into consideration that the
man, being now satisfied with his achievements and the proud possessor
of a headache, would settle down to the simple life with all the more
interest, let him off without a word of reproof. And besides, Mr.
Brown, though he did not say so, was grateful to the man for having
stayed away as long as he did.
Thus Steve Brown was free to do as he pleased. He would himself take
Janet to her destination at the county-seat; and if she would allow him
to,--he seemed to lose all his usual self-confidence at this point in
his relations toward her,--he would wait there until she had taken the
examination. And then, if she were willing, he would take her wherever
she wished to go. Janet, protesting mildly against putting him to so
much trouble, accepted the offer.
"That's the best thing for us to do," he said.
So it was decided; and when breakfast was over and the hieroglyphic
oil-coat had been stowed under the seat of the buggy, Janet's horse got
the word to go.
Not without regret, nor certain light allusions to the state other
feelings, did Janet part company with the shack and the now familiar
prairie. The shack had been a house to her, and one whose roof and
walls had held her in the very closest relations; and besides, though
she did not say a word about this, it was the only residence she had
ever met which she could possibly imagine herself saving up enough
money to buy. This was one of its secrets.
Steve, taking a route of his own, drove twice through the waters of the
wandering Comanche. At these wide shallows, Janet's gossip ceased
while she held to his coat-sleeve and kept her eye on the water as it
hurried through the spokes and rose steadily to the hub. But when the
stout pony pulled them up the opposite bank and the road lay before
them the same length as before, she again took up the thread of the
conversation. As everybody knows, a conversation can lead almost
anywhere; the talk will get to wherever it is going by some route as
long as words point the way, and always the story of one's _self_ will
leak through the sentences in the end. And where is there anything so
conducive to the objects of conversation as a Rockaway buggy wheeling
it over the cushioned sward and the flowers trooping by? We are not
going to intrude upon their pleasant situation; suffice it to say that
as time passed he became more and more Steve Brown and she became
increasingly Janet.
It was about the middle of the forenoon when they reached Belleville,
the prairie highway becoming now a shady homestead street, with
Southern cottages ensconced in vines and shrubbery and sheltered by
prosperous trees. Presently they turned into a street of stores which
delivered them finally to a hitching-rack at the end of a walk leading
up to the steps of the court-house.
The Professor, it devolved upon inquiry, was busy just at present, but
if the young lady would step up to his room he would give her an
examination shortly. Steve, being thus left to himself, went outside
again. At the side of the gravel walk was a green bench presided over
by a china-berry tree; he sat down here and waited. Occasionally a
passer-by diversified the tenor of his waiting--now a straight-paced
lawyer garbed in black and thinking dark thoughts; again, a leisurely
stockman arrayed like himself with sombrero and spurs. His own spurs
he had not thought to remove since he got back that morning. The
little town, like other county capitals, had an atmosphere that was
half the hush of the court-room and partly the quiet of academic
groves, in which state of being the inhabitants were peacefully and
permanently established, the court-house being, in truth, Belleville's
principal industry.
Having nodded to several and encountered none that he was well
acquainted with, he arose and went into the court-house again. After a
spell of indecision in the corridor, he turned and proceeded up the
dark-banistered stairs to the second story. At the head of the stairs
was a long hall with two rows of doors and a window at each end. One
of the farther doors was open, but gave forth no sound. In this
direction he turned his steps,--ostensibly toward the window which was
invitingly open,--and as he passed the door he turned his head and
viewed the scene of the "examination." The place was filled with
cast-iron desks screwed to the floor and surrounded by blackboards; and
all empty except for the seat which held Janet. The Professor,
elevated on a little platform with a table before him, sat sidewise in
his chair out of regard to a set of questions which he had chalked upon
the blackboard; meanwhile he tapped the table with his fingernails and
regarded Janet with a look of great profundity. It was a speechless
process; he wrote the questions on the blackboard, she wrote the
answers on the paper. Janet, evidently perplexed, bit the end of her
penholder. She turned her eyes to the door as Steve passed and gave
him a furtive look. It made him feel as if he were a boy again and
Janet a little girl being kept after school.
He passed onward to the window. Below him was a view of the
court-house yard, and through the trees a glimpse of the short business
street. For a little while he made this the object of his attention,
then he turned about and proceeded to the window at the other end. As
he passed the door he turned his eyes again and took quick survey of
affairs inside the examination-room, The other window, being at the
back of the courthouse, opened upon a wide prospect; in the near
distance were tree-hidden cottages, beyond this scene was the stretch
of prairie again. Steve sat down on the sill to wait. But in a little
while he got up and went back to the first window. When he passed the
door again the young lady blushed.
Janet was now in the very midst of that dread ordeal known as a "test."
She was being tried for her life,--which is to say her living,--and her
speechless inquisitor made the most of his attainments. "Give the
source and course of the Volga." Having writ down that cold-blooded
query he ascended his dais again and suppressed all feelings of
triumph. Janet again put the pen-holder to her teeth. Evidently this
was more than the young lady was able to "give." He drummed on the
wood with his finger-nails; otherwise he sat before her like patience
on a pedestal. His single spectator, feeling herself no match for such
a brain, was beginning to abandon all hope of passing.
[Illustration: In the very midst of that dread ordeal known as a test]
Steve Brown, having gathered some inkling of Janet's mental troubles,
was beginning to have his opinion of the whole procedure. Seeing her
in such difficulty he had a feeling of revolt against educational
things in general, but as the wrong seemed to be beyond his individual
powers to remedy, he could only make another trip to the end of the
hall. Glancing again at the questions on the board he looked in vain
for some inquiry upon the subject of Climate. There did not seem to be
even one. And when next he came back, after composing himself for
about half a minute on the window ledge, the door was unceremoniously
shut in his face!
He had come to a definite stop in hope of finding at least one question
upon the subject of Climate; the door was shut in his face.
Confronting him was the printed legend--"County Superintendent." His
heels were frozen to the floor. If it had not been that it was an
improper and very unusual thing to do, he could have shot each
particular letter of that announcement full of bullet holes.
The remedy for this peculiar outrage not at once presenting itself, he
turned on his heel and made another trip to the farther window where he
at once came face-about and began patrolling the hallway, past the door
and back again, his spurs clicking sharply and his high boot-heels
punctuating his progress as if every step put a period to his thoughts.
As he thus took his mind a-walking, everything about Janet's present
situation struck him in a light more obnoxious and foolish.
Examination! Examin_ation_! The idea of that girl having to go to
that fellow to be tested! The idea of _his_ having any such
_authority_ over her! And besides, if that little Professor really
wanted to get an idea of her merits, why did n't he talk to her and
find out whether she had common sense? She certainly had more than
_he_ had. As if any man with half an eye could n't see that she was
the very person to teach children!
As Janet's situation struck him more deeply, and he began to realize
how she might feel if she failed, he stopped and glared again at that
brazen lettering. Possibly she was failing now. He felt that if he
had the authority, or any proper cause,--which he could hardly make out
that he had,--he would march in and reform the thing right then and
there. But he had no authority. The other fellow had the authority.
And the right to close the door between them! This being actually the
case he whirled about and resumed his marching back and forth; and his
spurs began snapping their jaws again.
Janet, when she saw the door shut, caught her breath and paid strict
attention to the paper. The examiner, evidently unconscious of
anything but his own precise self, went officially to the blackboard
and took up next the writing of another set of questions. He wrote
impromptu and with considerable readiness, pausing occasionally to
think up a poser.
Regularly she heard her escort coming down the hall on his return trip,
and each time she suspended mental operations until he was safely away
again. About the time that she had done her best, and worst, to the
subject of Geography, he failed to pass the door; his footsteps seemed
to turn with a new and lighter expression in some other direction.
Then she heard no more of him.
The next subject was Grammar. She caught glimpses of the questions as
her examiner walked back and forth from one end of a sentence to the
other. As grammar is a subject in which there is some limit to the
number of possible questions, she felt that she now had an advantage.
She would now do wonders providing he did not ask her something easy.
Luckily he did not. She pushed Geography aside and took a new sheet of
foolscap with every prospect of passing. At first it had looked very
much as if she were going to fail.
Steve's withdrawal had merely been due to the sudden realization that
he was making a great deal of noise in the court-house; whereupon he
saw that, all things considered, he could contain himself better
somewhere else. He went down the stairs, through the corridor, and out
of the grounds. Thence his feet carried him clean to the other side of
town.
When he found himself upon the silent shore of the prairie he turned
about with the intention of going straight back, but he was three times
delayed, first at the hitching-rack in front of "Hart's General Store,"
where a knot of story-tellers halted him to tell him about the
phenomenal good time of his herder, and again in front of the
post-office, where another group of loiterers had to be listened to;
and finally, having made his escape when he felt that it was high time
to go, he had the bad luck to run into Judge Tillotson, whose
propensity to talk was such that he could not be denied a hearing
without good excuse.
When he at last arrived at the foot of the court-house path, he saw
Janet sitting on the bench under the china-berry tree. How long had
she been waiting for him? As she caught sight of him she began dabbing
her eyes hastily with her handkerchief. Steve saw this. His stride
lengthened as he came up the path. Having reached the bench he dropped
down suddenly beside her, his arm extended along the top of the bench
at her back.
"How did you make out, Miss Janet?"
There was a lugubrious attempt at a smile as she turned her eyes toward
him. The tears had been put into her pocket; but still he could see
that her eyes were swimming. To him they looked more wonderfully
gentle, more wholly true than any eyes he had ever seen.
"Well--Mr. Brown--I failed," she said.
"What! Didn't he let you pass?"
"I already had a third-class certificate, you know."
"Yes; but that is n't any good to you."
"No," she said meditatively. "Even second-class would have got me that
school near Merrill. I think I would have passed, too, if he had only
been fair in Geography and History."
"What? Did he do anything that wasn't on the square?" he asked sternly.
"Oh, I did n't mean it that way. It is always possible to be unfair in
Geography and History, you know,--and besides there is a good deal of
luck about it, too. He said he would have let me pass, but he had
decided to raise the standard."
She felt his arm stiffen behind her like an iron bar. She thought he
was going to rise.
"But he was _perfectly_ fair," she added quickly.
Steve's muscle relaxed slowly; he resumed his former lax attitude and
fell to thinking.
"You deserve to get a certificate and you _did n't_," he said, suddenly
sitting up again. "It is n't _right_."
This last word came out as sharp as a challenge to fight. He seemed to
have stiffened up in the saddle with the straight look of indomitable
will. Janet's eyes opened wider with the impression she got of him.
"Oh, it is n't a great matter--except that--of course--it is a little
disappointing."
"Yes. And somebody that it doesn't make any difference about will come
along and pass." His eye still had fight in it. "You like Texas?" he
said suddenly. "Don't you think it is a pretty good state?"
"Oh, yes, indeed," answered Janet. "I was very much in hope of being
able to stay. If I had only had more time to study--more time--"
There was a quaver in her voice, and she let the sentence end itself
there.
He sat for a moment looking straight at the middle of the path before
him. Then deliberately he turned about, put his arm behind her again,
and took her hand in his.
"Janet," he said, "if you had been here in two or three months from
now, there was a question I had all made up to ask you."
"A question?"
"As long as you might have to go away, I might as well tell you
now--before you are gone. I was going to ask you in two or three
months whether, if---- But no. That is n't fair. What I mean is,
_will_ you marry me? Would you?"
Janet paused during a space that would best be represented by a musical
rest--a silence in the midst of a symphony. Then her clear eyes turned
toward him.
"Yes, Steve; I would."
"You would! Do you mean that _now_--for keeps?"
"I could go and live with you anywhere in the world. I could _almost_
have answered that two days ago."
Her hand was taken tighter in his grasp. The edge of his sombrero
touched the top of her head, and she felt herself being taken under its
broad brim with a sense of everlasting shelter. And just then they
were interrupted. A visitor to the court-room came up the
path--unnoticed till he was almost past. At the same time there was a
sound of footsteps coming down the courthouse steps. It was the
Professor. Seeing which Steve released her hand and assumed a more
conventional public attitude until this particular spectator should be
gone. The Professor passed. He kept on his way down the path and did
not look back; whereupon Steve took possession of her hand again. It
was such a fine delicate hand to him--so small and tender a hand to
have to grapple with things of this rough world; he looked at it
thoughtfully and hefted it as so much precious property in his own.
"I am mighty glad you said that," he offered. "I was afraid you might
have to leave. That's why I wanted you to pass."
"And that's why I _wanted_ to pass, too," she said.
Now that the coast was clear they resumed their confessions. At times
they sat in silence, holding hands.
As the time approached when they ought to start back, they were
reminded to make more definite plans. He would take her to Merrill,
leave the horse and buggy there, and come home to Thornton on the night
train. On the following day he would come down with one of his own
horses to get the buggy and she could ride up "home" with him and catch
the early train back.
"I want you to come up right away and look over the house and get
acquainted with the neighborhood."
"Are we going to have nice neighbors?" she asked.
"First-class. A mighty fine lot of folks. They 'll all put themselves
out to accommodate you. I think you 'll like them."
"Oh, I know I shall," she answered.
"And I 'll have something I want to give you, too. And we can talk
things over and make up our minds about the date. I don't see any use
in waiting a long time, do you?"
"Well--no; not too long. But of course there are quite a number of
things that need to be done first."
"Yes--of course," he mused. "Quite a number of things that have to be
done. And there 's the license to get, too," looking up suddenly at
the court-house.
"What!--right now?"
"We might as well get it while we 're right here, don't you think? I
might have to come out here after it anyway--and maybe the Comanche
would be up and on a rampage. Here we are right now. And there's the
court-house."
"It does seem the most sensible way--of course. You had better do
whatever you think best."
Upon receiving this commission he arose and proceeded for the license.
As he set foot upon the court-house steps he paused and looked back at
her. He was straight as a ramrod; there was self-confidence in his
carriage and pride in his mien.
"I 'll bet ten dollars _I 'll_ pass," he said.