A DANCE IN THE CEDAR HILLS.
It was a fine summer evening. The whole Wopp family was getting ready
to go to a dance, to be held at a ranch some ten miles off. An array
of clean clothing was laid out on the different beds and an odor of
musk-scented soap pervaded the air.
“Now, Moses, look sharp. Quit yer foolin’ an’ git busy,” called Mrs.
Wopp, to the son and heir, whose toilet was not even begun. She
herself was busy braiding Betty’s fair hair. “Be sure to warsh yer
neck an’ ears. Larst party we was to, Mis’ Williams says to me, she
says, ‘Is that your Moses settin’ on that bench? La me! he seems
darker complected than I ever seed him before. I thort he were some
Arfrican,’ she says. I hev always been a godly woman, Moses, ef I do
go to a dance now an’ agin. Anyhow, the good book says there is a time
to dance, but it aint got no patience with dirt. Git yerself cleaned
up, then go an’ hook up the team.”
At this juncture there was a knock at the door. It was Howard Eliot
who had called for Nell.
Howard rode his chestnut saddle-horse “The Kid,” while Nell had
“Ladybird.” Moses was not so pious by nature as his mother, and he had
flatly refused to have his pinto’s disposition spoiled by giving her
such a name as “Hephzibah” his mother’s choice.
The two riders, who were to be followed by the family in the democrat,
set off at a gentle lope. Before them lay the Cedar Hills over which
the moon was just rising sharply defining their wooded crests. They
followed a trail well-known to Howard who had ridden the range, in
this district for several years. Nell, though an eastern girl, was at
home in the saddle having always been accustomed to riding.
“I believe you are becoming a confirmed westerner,” said Howard as
they slowed down to a walk. “If you once drink slough water you know
you will never like any other.”
“Perhaps not,” answered Nell, “I can see there are wonderful
possibilities in this vast country. Some day this prairie will be
dotted here and there with prosperous towns. But don’t let us be
serious. Here’s a grand place for a race. I know ‘Ladybird’ can beat
‘The Kid.’”
Off she darted followed by Howard. The horses swept over the smooth
turf in long easy strides, gradually increasing in speed as pinto and
chestnut realized that this was a trial of fleetness. It was glorious,
but presently Nell, remembering Moses’ parting injunctions in regard
to his beloved pinto, pulled up. “Next time, Ladybird, we will win
never fear,” she said consolingly, patting the horse’s sleek neck.
The dance was held in a new barn of which the floor was especially
good. Indeed the young people of the family had seen to that.
Unfortunately the stable end of the building was already in use and
this proved to be somewhat inconvenient. During the festivities of the
evening one delicate lady fainted from excitement and overpowering
stable odors. She speedily revived, however, on being carried into the
fresh air and soused with a bucket of cold water. The building was
illuminated with lanterns and an occasional oil lamp. Benches were
ranged along the walls. The crowd was large and as usual at these
affairs men predominated in numbers. The dances were mostly square
ones and when a husky caller-off became hoarse and exhausted with
shouting, another took his place. He usually stood at one end of the
building beside the fiddler.
Howard led Nell through the intricacies of a square dance.
“Salute your partner,” yelled Geordie Hodgekiss, the first caller-off.
Howard gravely did as ordered.
“Grand chain,” bawled Geordie evidently feeling his importance,
“dos-et-dos, ladies’ chain, swing on the corners, and put some feelin’
in your step.
Ladies cross your lily-white hands
And gents your black and tan,
Ricketty jig and away we go.”
Which last order was the signal for a giddy frolic. Finally,
“Everybody promenade, you know where,” and the dancers joined the
spectators on the benches.
“Here come the Wopps,” said Nell to her companion as the family
entered, led as usual by Mrs. Wopp. Mr. Wopp came next especially
scoured for the occasion, freshly shaved and with long side hair
carefully oiled and combed over the bald spot on his crown. He carried
a few long strips of paper in his hand. Beside him walked Betty
inwardly disapproving of the two stiff braids with which her head was
adorned. Bringing up the rear was Moses, his face shining with soap
and satisfaction and wearing a new brown suit at least two sizes too
large for him. He was bent on a good time which in his case meant
sitting on a side bench with a few other youths and jeering at the
mistakes of the dancers. Close at his heels came Jethro who had
pleaded so hard to be brought along and had gazed at them with such
tragic appeal in his eyes that they could not disappoint him. He was
now stationed under a bench, having first been intimidated with dire
threats as to what would happen to him should he come out and trip up
the dancers.
“Choose your partners for a quadrille,” called Geordie, and once more
the floor was filled. There was room for six sets and in one of these
stood Mr. Wopp with his partner Nell, while at the capacious side of
Mrs. Wopp was Howard.
“Salute your partner, swing—your partner.” Mrs. Wopp who had expected
“Swing on the corner,” had seized the unfortunate Mr. Wopp and in
spite of his struggles was spinning him violently around, while their
respective partners stood and looked helplessly on.
“Stop Mar, lemme go, you are wrong,” gasped the little man whose
efforts to escape from her clutches had grown more and more feeble.
“Drat that man, anyhow, why carnt he say what he means?” answered the
mortified lady. The jeers of the youths on the benches added to her
discomforture. Nell began to wonder whether her mind and constitution
were robust enough to allow her to engage in such festivities as these
very often.
Now the dance was a two-step and Mrs. Wopp, who drew a hard and fast
line at round dances, declaring they were instigated by the evil one,
sat and looked on talking to Betty meanwhile.
“I hope when you are growed up, my dear, you will never dance them
waltzes an’ two-steps. The good Lord carnt love them as does sich
things.”
Betty who secretly preferred to trip the light fantastic toe in this
manner, maintained a discreet silence.
Mrs. Wopp leaning towards a lady on her right inquired, “Do you know
Mis’ Stephens, why Joe Avery is not dancin’ this evenin’. Ever sence
we come into this here barn he has never moved from his seat.”
“I kin tell you, Mrs. Wopp. He met with an accident comin’ over. He
was gittin’ through Abe Bower’s wire fence to save goin’ round by the
gate when Ben Bower’s bull-dog ‘Jeff’ caught sight of him. Next minute
Joe seen the bull-dog comin’ an’ started back through the fence. Land
sakes! The tear he got in the seat of his pants was somethin’
shockin’.”
“Pore Joe! Truly the way of the transgressor is hard. I feel bad fer
him, to think he has to set round all evenin’ and carnt even git up to
git a drink of water fer hisself.”
“I wouldn’t jist say he cant git up, Mrs. Wopp, fer Mrs. Bower sewed
the tear up fer him; but the pants bein’ still on him and Joe bein’
shy-like she felt too narvous to make a good job of it an’ I reckon
Joe is afeard those few stitches Mrs. Bower put in may not be very
secoor.”
Mr. Wopp in the meantime had seated himself on the other side of Betty
and was busy taking notes on the dance then in progress. “It was so
interestin” he said, “and the poetry might come in handy.” The dance
was called “Captain Jinks.”
“Captain Jinks of the horse marine,
He feeds his horse on corn and beans.
“Swing with Captain Jinks, swing with the horse that ate the beans,
swing with the girl with the great big feet.”
Though these and similar remarks seemed rather personal no resentment
was felt by anybody.
As the evening wore on Mrs. Wopp, Mrs. Stephens and a few other ladies
adjourned to a box stall where the refreshments were stored. Pleased
with the prospect of dispensing lavish hospitality from the combined
larders of the neighborhood, Mrs. Wopp’s face radiated cheerfulness.
A small stove had been set up in the improvised kitchen, and a big
boiler filled with water. This was now boiling furiously and the
ladies proceeded to make the coffee. Cakes and pies were cut, cups and
saucers were piled in one huge basket and sandwiches in another.
“Now Mis’ Stephens, call the boys,” requested Mrs. Wopp who was the
busiest of the group.
Armed with the big baskets, several young men of the party travelled
from bench to bench, followed by others with coffee pots. The
strenuous exercises of the evening, preceded in most cases by a long
ride or drive, had developed vigorous appetites and the viands were
disposed of with wonderful rapidity.
“Aint it amazin’ how hungry one gits,” hoarsely remarked Mr. Wopp who
had not spoken for some time owing to close application to the task in
hand. “Lize, I want a piece of that punkin pie of yourn.” Here he
caressed the bulging buttons on his waistcoat. “My mouth’s waterin’
fer it an’ I b’lieve I hev room.”
“Moses, here with that pie,” called the gratified Mrs. Wopp, “Yer par
wants some.”
Moses came bearing an achievement of spicy, opaque amber supported and
surrounded by tantalizing, toast-brown crust. Before the expectant Mr.
Wopp, however, had time to note these details, there was a quick rush
of a small black and white object, a crash, some ear-splitting howls,
as Moses, pie, Jethro, and one of Mrs. Wopp’s best blue dinner plates
were precipitated against Mr. Wopp’s legs. Down his Sunday trousers
meandered a yellow glacier which Mrs. Wopp regarded with dismay.
“Moses, yer as useless as the hole in a doughnut; here quick gimme yer
handkerchief till I mop up yer Par.”
Vigorously cleaning up the still bewildered victim, Mrs. Wopp hurled
fresh orders.
“Don’t stan’ starin’ there like Betty’s chiner doll, go git another of
my pies.”
This time Moses was more successful. Comforted, he felt he could enjoy
a few morsels himself. Calling the contrite Jethro, who, after
extricating himself from the ruins he had made, had retired under a
bench, the boy made his way to a remote corner. Here no parental
admonitions would disturb him. He surveyed with pleased expectancy an
enormous triangle of pie, a huge slab of gingerbread, a monument of
glistening iced cake, half a dozen tarts, and a few other trifles he
had brought with him.
Supper over and dishes hurried out of sight, the floor was once more
cleared and the real business of the evening was resumed.
“Come on Betty, you haven’t had a dance this evening. It isn’t fair
for the grownups to have all the fun,” invited Howard Eliot.
“Oh, I was havin’ lots of fun watchin’ the dancin’,” returned Betty
rising with childish alacrity. The wistful look that belied her words
disappeared like magic.
“Aint Miss Gordon a lovely dancer?” she interrogated, “and aint she
lovely herself? I’ve been watollin’ you an’ her dance all evenin’.
Moses says he’s almost wore out one eye lookin’ at you both. He says
he don’t go in strong fer teachers, but he thinks Miss Gordon is worth
an eyestrain anyways.”
Betty was trying to keep up the engaging flow of talk but the dance
proved to require all her attention.
A grey light began to be visible through the windows. Whereupon horse
blankets were pressed into service and the accusing daylight was shut
out. Some of the more conservative members of the party began to think
of home. Among these was Ebenezer Wopp who had not danced since the
opening set. He had sat for some hours in a comatose condition, except
when he was aroused for a few moments by a nudge or pinch administered
by his energetic wife.
“What’s the use of goin’ to a dance and settin’ sleepin’ like one of
them spinxes, Ebenezer?” she expostulated as she roused him from his
slumbers. The good lady herself had danced almost incessantly until
her face had taken on the hue of a ripe pippin.
The sun rose over the hills and his presence could be ignored no
longer. As the Wopp family were driving silently home in the chilly
morning, Moses, growing reminiscent, remarked with a yawn:
“Anyhow, Mar, that fust punkin pie Par got was a howlin’ success.”