HOW VERTY DISCOVERED IN HIMSELF A GREAT FONDNESS FOR APPLES.
Verty threw himself from his horse, and ran forward toward Redbud with
an expression of so much joy, that even Longears perceived it; and, in
the excess of his satisfaction, reared up on Mr. Jinks, claiming his
sympathy.
Mr. Jinks brushed his clothes, and protested, frowning. Verty did not
hear him, however--he was at the gate with Redbud.
"Oh!" he cried, "how glad I am to see you! What in the world made you
come here, Redbud, and stay away from me so long!"
Redbud blushed, and murmured something.
"Never mind," said Verty; "I'm so glad to see you, that I won't
quarrel."
And he pressed the little hand which he held with such ardor, that
Redbud blushed more than ever.
But she had scarcely uttered a word--scarcely smiled on him. What did
it mean? Poor Verty's face began to be overclouded.
What did it mean. That is not a very difficult question to us, however
much it might have puzzled Verty. It meant that Miss Lavinia had
suggested to Redbud the impropriety of remaining on terms of
cordiality and friendship with a young gentleman, who, after the
fashion of all youths, in all ages of the world, was desperately
anxious to become some young lady's husband. It meant that the
"lecture" of this great female philosopher had produced its
effect,--that Miss Redbud had waked to a consciousness of the fact,
that she was a "young lady," and that her demeanor toward Verty was
improper.
Before, she had thought that there was no great impropriety in running
to meet the forest boy, with whom she had played for years, and whom
she knew so very well. Now this was changed. Cousin Lavinia saw a
decided impropriety in her meeting Verty with a bright smile, and
giving him her hand, and saying, in her frank, affectionate voice:
"Oh! I'm so glad to see you!" Of course, cousin Lavinia knew all about
it; and it was very dreadful in her to have been treating Verty with
so little ceremony--very, very dreadful. Was she not growing up, and
even did she not wear long dresses? Was such conduct in a lady of
sixteen proper?
So, innocence listened to worldly wisdom, and pride overturned
simplicity; and, in consequence, our friend Verty found himself
opposite a young lady who blushed, and exhibited a most unaccountable
constraint, and only gave him the tips of her fingers, when he was
ready for, and expected, the most enthusiastic greeting.
We must, however, speak of another influence which made Redbud so
cool;--and this will, very probably, have occurred to our lady
readers, if we have any, as the better explanation. Separation! Yes,
the separation which stimulates affection, and bathes the eyes in the
languid dews of memory. Strephon is never so devoted as when Chloe has
been removed from him--when his glances seek for her in vain on the
well-remembered lawn. And Chloe, too, is disconsolate, when she no
longer sees the crook of her shepherd, or hears the madrigals he
sings. Absence smoothes all rough places; and the friend from whom we
are separated, takes the dearest place in the heart of hearts.
Redbud did not discover how much she loved Verty, until she was gone
from him, and the fresh music of his laughter was no longer in her
ears. Then she found that he held a very different place in her heart
from what she had supposed;--or rather, to speak more accurately, she
did not reflect in the least upon the matter, but only felt that he
was not there near her, and that she was not happy.
This will explain the prim little ladylike air of bashfulness and
constraint which Redbud exhibited, when her eyes fell on Verty, and
the coolness with which she gave him her hand. The old things had
passed away--Verty could be the boy-playmate no more, however much it
grieved her. Thus reflected Miss Redbud; and in accordance with this
train of reasoning, did she conduct herself upon the occasion of which
we speak.
So, to Strephon's request to be informed why she came thither, without
telling him, Chloe replied with a blush:
"Oh, I came to school--sir," she was about to add, but did not.
"To school? Is this a school for young ladies?"
Redbud, with a delicate little inclination of the head, said yes.
"Well," Verty went on, "I am glad I found you; for, Redbud, you can't
tell how I've been feeling, ever since you went away. It seemed to me
that there was a big weight resting on my breast."
Redbud colored, and laughed.
"Sometimes," said Verty, smiling, "I would try and get it away by
drawing in my breath, and ever so long; but I could'nt," he added,
shaking his head; "I don't know what it means."
Mr. Jinks, who was dusting his rosetted shoes with a white pocket
handkerchief, grimaced at this.
"Well, well," Verty went on, "I begin to feel better now, since I've
seen you; and, I think, I'll do better in my office work."
"Office work?" asked Redbud, beginning to grow more like her former
self.
"Oh, yes!" Verty replied; "I'm in Mr. Rushton's office now, and I'm a
lawyer's clerk;--that's what they call it, I believe."
Redbud returned his bright smile. Her eye wandered toward Cloud, who
stood perfectly still--the turkey, which had not been removed, yet
dangling at his saddle-bow.
Verty followed the young girl's glance, and smiled.
"I know what you are looking at," he said; "you are looking at that
wild turkey, and thinking that I am a poor sort of a lawyer, with such
a book to read out of. But I shot him coming along."
Redbud laughed; her coolness could not last in Verty's presence; his
fresh voice, so full of their old happy times, made her a child again.
"And how did you find me'?" she said, in her old tone.
"By your pigeon!"
"My pigeon?
"Yes, indeed; I shot him."
"You shot him, Verty?"
Verty experienced,--he knew not why,--a feeling of extreme delight, on
hearing his name from her lips.
"Yes, I did so, Redbud," he replied, confidentially, "and I cured him,
too. Look at him, up there on the roof, coo-cooing! He was sailing
over the town, and I sent an arrow after him, and brought him straight
down."
"Oh, Verty! how cruel!"
"I never would 'a shot him if I had seen the name on his neck."
"The name--yes--"
"Yours, Redbud. There was a piece of paper, and on it--but here's the
paper."
And Verty took from his bosom the yellow scroll, and placed it in
Redbud's hand.
She took it, smiling, and read the words--"I am Miss Redbud's pigeon,
and Fanny gave me to her."
"Oh, yes," she said, "and I am glad he's come back; poor fellow, I
hav'nt seen him for days!"
"I had him," said Verty.
"At home?"
"Yes."
"Curing him?"
Verty nodded.
"You know that was what I wanted. I cured him, and then let him go,
and followed him, and found you."
Verty, in an absent way, took Miss Redbud's hand, and was guilty of
the bad taste of squeezing it.
The reply and the action seemed to recall Redbud to herself; and she
suddenly drew back with a blush.
Verty looked astounded. In the midst of his confusion a martial
"hem!" was heard, and Mr. Jinks, who had been carefully adjusting his
toilette, drew near the lovers.
"Hem!" said Mr. Jinks, "a very fine day, Miss Redbud. Loveliest of
your sex and delight of the world, have I the pleasure of seeing you
in that high state of happiness and health which of right should
belong to you?"
With this Mr. Jinks bowed and gesticulated, and spread out his arms
like a graceful giraffe, and dispensed on every side the most engaging
grimaces.
Redbud bowed, with an amused look in her little blushing face; and
just as she had got through with this ceremony, another personage was
added to the company.
This was an elderly lady of severe aspect, who, clad in black, and
with an awfully high cap, which cast a shadow as it came, appeared at
the door of the house, and descended like a hawk upon the group.
"Well, Miss Summers!" she said, in a crooked and shrill voice,
"talking to gentlemen, I see! Mr. Jinks, against rules, sir--come,
Miss, you know my wishes on this subject."
As she spoke, her eyes fell upon the turkey hanging from Cloud's
saddle-bow.
"Young man," she said to Verty, "what's the price of that turkey?"
Verty was looking at Redbud, and only knew that the awful Mrs. Scowley
had addressed him, from Redbud's whispering to him.
"_Anan_?" he said.
"I say, what's the price of that turkey?" continued the old lady; "if
you are moderate, I'll buy it. Don't think, though, that I am going
to give you a high price. You mountain people," she added, looking at
Verty's wild costume, "can get along with very little money. Come, how
much?"
Verty on that occasion did the only artful thing which he ever
accomplished--but what will not a lover do?
He went to Cloud, took the fine gobbler from the saddle, and bringing
it to Mrs. Scowley, laid it at the feet of that awful matron with a
smile.
"You may have him," said Verty, "I don't want him."
"Don't want him!"
"No, ma'am--I just shot him so--on my way to my writing."
"Your writing, sir?" said Mrs. Scowley, gazing at Verty with some
astonishment--"what writing?"
"I'm in Mr. Rushton's office, and I write," Verty replied, "but I
don't like it much."
Mrs. Scowley for a moment endeavored to look Verty out of countenance,
but finding that the young man seemed to have no consciousness of the
fact, and that he returned her gaze with friendly interest, the ogress
uttered a sound between a snort and a cough, and said:--
"Then you did'nt come to sell the turkey?"
"No, indeed, ma'am."
"For what, then?"
"I came to see Redbud," replied Verty; "you know, ma'am, that we know
each other very well; I thought I'd come." And Verty smiled.
Mrs. Scowley was completely puzzled--she had never before seen a
gentleman of Verty's candor, and could find no words to reply. She
thought of saying to our friend that visiting a young lady at school
was highly criminal and reprehensible, but a glance at the fat turkey
lying on the grass at her feet, caused her to suppress this speech.
As she gazed, her feeling relented more and more--Verty grew still
more amiable in her eyes--the turkey evidently weighed more than
twenty pounds.
"I'm much obliged to you, young man," she said, "and I'll take the
turkey from you as a friend. Come in and have some apples--there's a
bell-mouth tree."
"Oh yes!" said Verty, "I'm very fond of apples--but Redbud may have
some, too?" he added, smiling innocently.
"Hum!" said the ogress.
"Just a few, you know, ma'am," said Verty, with his bright smile. "I
know from the way she looks that she wants some. Don't you, Redbud?"
Poor Redbud's resolutions all melted--Verty's voice did it all--she
blushed and nodded, and said yes, she should like very much to have
some apples.
"Then you may go," said the ogress, somewhat mollified, "but don't
touch the small trees--I'm keeping them."
"Not for worlds!" said Verty.
"No, ma'am," said Redbud.
And they crossed the lawn, and opening the gate of the spacious and
well-kept garden, passed in under the apple boughs. As for Mr. Jinks,
he accompanied Mrs. Scowley to the house, bowing, grimacing, ambling,
and making himself generally agreeable. True, he resembled a
grasshopper, standing erect, and going through the steps of a minuet;
but there was much elegance in Mr. Jinks' evolutions, and unbounded
elasticity of limb. He entered with Mrs. Scowley; and there, for the
present, we shall leave him.