As was his custom on Sunday mornings, Henley accompanied his wife and
the Wrinkles to church service in Chester on the day Long was expected
to pay his visit to Dixie. Henley and the old man fell in leisurely
behind the two women. The day was fine, being one of those rare June
days which had the moderate temperature of spring.
As they came within sight of Dixie Hart's cottage, Henley noticed a
sleek pair of horses and a stylish trap held by a negro boy at the gate,
and knew that the girl's suitor had arrived. He fancied that the couple
might pass him on his way to church, and in his mind's eye he saw
himself waving a cordial salutation to them. It was not, however, until
the church was reached and he had conducted his party to their usual
seats that Dixie and her escort arrived. Accustomed as the congregation
was to direct its attention to the door as much as the pulpit, at least
before the services began, all eyes were turned thither when a sudden
commotion at the front showed that something of an unusual nature had
occurred. The fact was that Long's driver, being unfamiliar with the
ways of a place much smaller than his own town, had driven the prancing,
snorting pair close to the door in the effort to land his passengers on
the steps, and his loud, "Woah dar, blast yo' skins!" rang clearly
through the resonant building. As it was, the coming of a bridal pair
themselves could not have attracted more attention. Every pivotal head
turned on its axis; even the visiting parson, with the huge Bible on his
thin knees, half rose that he might peer over the pulpit behind which he
sat.
Dixie, in her new gown and new hat, was the very embodiment of easy
self-possession as she piloted her escort to a seat in the middle of the
room. Long, red and perspiring, and rigged out in all the splendor of
the haberdasher's art, even to boots that screamed in pain, had the air
of a social laborer who was worthy of his hire. As soon as he was seated
he reached for Dixie's fan and began waving it to and fro with the
conscientious regularity of a pendulum, thereby increasing his warmth
and not lessening Dixie's.
Sheer astonishment clutched all observers. The women bent their necks
and stared, and the men winked at one another comically.
Suddenly Henley noticed that Carrie Wade was immediately behind him, and
he felt a sharp twinge of conscience over the wan and desperate
expression of her face. She had seen, and was staring down into her lap
and slowly twirling her bloodless fingers. She had heard of Jim Cahews's
engagement and knew that her transient hopes in that direction were
groundless; and now this--this of all things--to see her hated rival in
such a coveted position in the view of all before whom she had been so
systematically maligned.
But Henley's mind refused to be riveted to Carrie's discomfiture. For
the first time he was seeing his friend Long through new glasses. He
was, indeed, as Dixie had hinted, a rather uncouth individual, and this
fault was not lessened by his flashy attire and juxtaposition to so much
innate refinement in the person of his companion.
After the service, as they were leaving the church, Henley saw that
three-fourths of the congregation, at least, had deliberately paused
outside, and were watching the Carlton man assist his partner into the
shining trap. They stood as if transfixed, and regarded the pair till
they had disappeared down the road in the direction of Dixie's home.
That morning before sunrise old Wrinkle had gone to his watermelon-patch
and plucked a ripe melon. He had put it in the spring-house to keep it
cool, and during the afternoon he served it to the family on the
back-porch. Henley had enjoyed it with the others, and was idly
sauntering about the front-yard when he saw Long leave the Hart cottage
and start back to Carlton. Seeing Henley, he told the driver to stop,
and sprang down to the ground and came to the fence.
"Well, what progress?" Henley asked. "I saw you at meeting this
morning."
"Well, I hardly know yet, Alf." Long clutched one of the palings of the
fence with his gloved hand and swung back from it and took a deep
breath. "I hardly know what to say. I'm tickled to some extent, and then
again I hain't, for I hain't as sure of my ground as I'd like to be.
Alf, she's by all odds the finest bolt of calico I ever tried to
unroll--I say _unroll_, because if she hain't a tight mystery I never
saw one."
"You mean you can't quite make her out?" suggested Henley, with an
eagerness for which he could hardly account.
"That's it; you've hit it the first throw out of the box. It looks to
me, Alf, like she's always going to do something that she never gets to,
and not do what she's sure to do when you ain't expecting it. Now, one
thing I counted on as a sure fact before I come out was that after
dinner at her house me 'n her would walk down to the woods where it was
shady and sort o' stroll about and take in the scenery, but not a peg
would she move, although I hinted at it several times. I like old
women--that is, you know, I respect 'em in their places--but that pair
was too much of a good thing. They set about where me and Miss Dixie was
every spare minute. I've seen gals love their kin, but this un fairly
dotes on hers. Why, one of 'em couldn't git up to get a drink without
Dixie jumpin' and telling her to set still, that she'd get it for her.
I'm as good as the average in knowing how to handle a woman, Alf, but I
don't profess to know how to court one in a crowd. One of these two is
half blind and t'other is lame, but that didn't help me out, for they
didn't let their tongues rest a second. They kept alluding to some chap
or other that was dead. They said they hadn't ever seen him, but kept
talking about his picture and wondering if he looked like me, and how
he'd like it to see me there, and so on. Seemed like the girl wanted to
shut that talk off, for she told 'em several times to be quiet and to
remember what they had promised her."
"Women are all hard to understand." There was a knowing twinkle in
Henley's eyes, which he averted from Long's anxious gaze. "I reckon
Dixie thought you ought to get acquainted with the family if you and her
are to come to any permanent understanding."
"Maybe so," Long agreed, wearily. "But I have enough dealings with old
rag-chawers in my business through the week not to want a Sunday off
when I get with my own sort. But this un is a prize, Alf, and worth any
man's trouble to get her. I'll never forget that dinner if I live to be
a hundred. I had to rise early to get a start from town, and the ride
kind o' whetted my appetite to a sharp edge, so that I was really ready
for anything she wanted to pass; but, geewhilikins! when we all slid our
chairs out into that dining-room, where everything was as white as snow
and shiny as a new dollar, and where green things was stuck about all
around, I begun to know what high living was. And she told me she'd
cooked every dab of it herself. Just think of that, and on top of it
rigged up like she did and went to meeting as fresh and cool as a rose
under dewy leaves! I made up my mind, as I set there and ate all that
good stuff, and saw her at the head of the table fingering things in
such a dainty way, that I'd have her at the head of my table in a fine,
new house, or bust a trace. I'm to come out again next Sunday. In the
mean time I'm going to try to think up some way to choke that old pair
of hens off my roost."
"Oh, they'll let you alone after a while," Henley said. "You see, you
are a novelty right now. You keep on. You wouldn't want a girl that
would throw her arms round your neck on the first visit."
"No, I reckon not," Long agreed, slowly, "and still I don't like the
uncertainty, either. Looks like she's studying me all the time, and
ain't any too well pleased, at that. I don't know; I reckon she's got me
rattled to some extent. I know what I want; I want _her_, and the sooner
I'm easy in my mind the sooner I'll be fit for business." Long glanced
at the sinking sun. "I must be on the move; take care of yourself, Alf,
and pray for me. You've put me on the track of a good thing, and if I
win I'll be yours for life."
The next morning, as Henley was on his way to the village, he saw Dixie
in her peanut-patch on the side of the road. She seemed to be carefully
inspecting the vine-covered mounds in the mellow soil, for he saw her
stoop now and then and lift the vines and peer beneath them. Vaulting
over the fence, he was soon by her side.
"Always at work, rain or shine," he said, lightly, as she glanced up and
smiled a cheery greeting.
"I've hit it right on these goobers, Alfred," she said. "I pulled up a
vine the other day and washed it in the branch. I'm keeping it for the
fair at Carlton. It is a dandy; the goobers on it are as thick as beads
on a strand, and already as big as your thumb. Folks laughed at me for
putting in five acres in this ground, but I knew what I was about. If
they go high this fall, I'll make up for the loss on my wheat and hay."
"From the looks of things yesterday," he said, "it don't seem like
you'll have to bother much more about raising anything."
"I saw you looking at us," she returned, gravely. "In fact, I saw
everybody in the house. It was an awful day, Alfred, and I wouldn't go
through another like it for no sap-headed man that ever walked the
earth. I was up before the break of day, scrubbing, sweeping, baking by
candle-light, and what was it all for--good gracious, what was it for?
For weeks I'd counted on it as a great event, just to feel, down in my
heart when it was all over, like a big fool."
"Why, I thought--I supposed--" Henley began in perplexity, but she
interrupted him.
"I hate sham, Alfred, and that whole thing was sham--sham, sham, from
first to last. Because I've been beat down and sneered at all this time
by a silly woman, and because my burden of life looked hard, I let
myself be tempted. Do you know, I believe Providence is trying to pound
some sense into me. I felt kind o' bad a year ago when that feller
didn't come to time, but, Alfred, I know myself better than I did then.
I thought I'd have stood up at the altar with a man I never saw, but
I'll bet now that I'd have backed out at the sight of him. I was blinded
the same way about this last one. When you told me about him, in your
kind way, I thought he was just what I was looking for, but when you
fetched him to me that day at Carlton it was an awful comedown. I can't
explain it to you, but, somehow, I felt like he was butting in with his
big head and loud voice between me and another one I was expecting."
"I see, I see. Long don't quite fill the bill," Henley said. "I was
afraid there might be a hitch somewhere, and he has all the essentials,
too--that is, I mean--" But Henley hardly knew what he meant.
"There is just one main essential, to use your big word," she said, her
fine, eyes resting on his in a wise gaze, "and that is love--the genuine
article. At one time I thought it was a fine house, and things to wear,
and comfort for them I love and protect that I needed, but it was
downright, unselfish love for somebody. Alfred, to my dying day I shall
shudder over all that parade yesterday. The man or woman who attempts to
get pleasure out of sitting in a finer seat, or living in a finer house,
or wearing finer duds than his neighbor, or even his enemy, will miss
it, unless he is of a low order and taste. When I saw all them good
folks gaping and staring at me like I was a comet with a tail, right
there in the house of God, while a good man was teaching humility, and
prayers, and songs was going up to the throne--I say, while all that was
taking place I felt like a cheat and a swindler hiding under plumes,
clap-trap flowers, and flounces that ud fade. I looked across and saw
Carrie--poor Carrie!--with that blank stare of death in her eyes. She
seemed to say, 'You've whipped me clean to the earth, Dix; I'm done; I'm
all in; but have mercy, don't you see how awful it is?' She may have
thought I was crowing over her, but I wasn't--God knows I wasn't. During
the first prayer I knelt down and prayed for her and begged forgiveness
for my silly caper. The poor thing has lost even her boy-lover. She's
yearning for something she may never lay her hands on. As God is my
judge, if I could give her this man that was here yesterday I'd do it at
the drop of a hat. Alfred, I don't want him, nohow. I thought I might
come round to it, but every word he says, every move he makes, goes
against me. If I tied myself to a man like that it would be one
continual fight to approve of him. Oh, he was so puffed up yesterday
that I wanted to pull his ears and make him see straight--talking all
the time about the dash we'd cut and the attention we attracted. I was
guilty of the crime and wanted to forget it, but it was all he could
talk about--well, that is, except one _other_ thing."
"One other thing?" Henley echoed.
"Yes, it was marry, marry, marry; wife, wife, wife--even before the
home-folks. He couldn't put a bite of my cooking in his big, red mouth
without saying what a blessing it would be to come to a table loaded
that way three times a day. I say! I had to laugh. There I was figuring
on using him to the end that I could set back in a rocking-chair and fan
myself and tell a nigger cook to rake any old scraps together and not
bother me with the details, while he saw me with my sleeves rolled up
humped over a hot stove, or in a cloud of steam at a wash-tub. He said
he could pay me the compliment of being the only girl who loved hard
work as much as his mother had till it killed her--_loved_ it, mind you!
Think of drudging all your life for a man that thought you loved dirty
work and was granting you a favor by keeping it piled up around you
while he was lying around a store telling a bunch of clerks what to do,
and wondering how long it would be before time to eat. Yes, I felt mean
all through the service and after he left. Little Joe sneaked over after
dark to get me to teach him his geography, and while I was doing it I
put my arm around his poor, little, wasted neck and hugged him. He
looked up and begun to cry and kissed me. Alfred, there ain't no
mistaking the article when you run across it. It is real love I have for
that boy--the love of a mother for her child that is suffering. I went
as far with him as the fence, and as me and him stood together in the
starlight I felt, somehow, that there was just one thing standing
between me and God, and that was the unworthy thing I had been doing
that day. I am thankful for my burdens, for under them I am free and
exalted. Love like I have for Joe shows what the other love ought to be
like, and until I yearn to help a man out of his troubles and cling to
him and want him by me every minute--until then I'll not sell myself.
You can't marry for pay and be honest, for you know you can't give value
for value. You'd have to act a part, and that would be a living lie that
would pall on you, and sicken your very soul."
"So you're not going to see Long any more?" Henley said, carried out of
himself by her winsome logic.
"Yes, he's coming Sunday. I'll get through the day in some fashion or
other, but I'm not going to tole 'im along like a pig following an ear
of corn. Some girls would, whether they intended to take him or not, but
I've been through the rubs and can't afford to be so silly. My natural
pride won't let me chop him off after the first visit, for folks would
say he turned me down, and, with all my good intentions, I can't stand
that. I don't know why, but I can't. I reckon we want what is ours, if
it is as empty as a bottle full of wind, and, in the fellow's way, he
_does_ want me. A girl can be an old maid with much more content if
she's had what the world would call a solid chance."
When he had left her and was walking down the road Henley paused and
looked back and saw her making her way homeward through her
cotton-field. "I might have known she'd kick him," he said, tenderly.
"No man alive is worthy of her--no man ever could be. She's a jewel
dropped from the skies. She is as sweet and innocent as a baby, and as
strong and brave as a lion. I wonder why God didn't let _me_--I wonder
why it was that _I_ happened not to--"
A flush of shame mounted to his face. His heart seemed to stand still.
He trudged onward, his gaze on the ground. "She is doing her duty," he
muttered, "and she is not complaining. I must do mine."