The evening of the party came around. John was in his room, dressing for
it, and Cavanaugh was with him.
"It certainly is a new wrinkle for you," the old man said, with a broad
smile. "And I wouldn't bother about not knowing how to dance, either, if
I was you. There will be aplenty that won't take part in that, so you
won't feel odd. La me! I wish I could go look on! I love to see young
folks together. I spied you two the other night long before the others
did, and I noticed how Tilly was leaning against you, and it was by all
odds the prettiest sight I ever looked at, and took me back, back, back!
I believe there is a future life, and in it we'll be allowed to unreel
all the sweet and pretty things we ever wound up in our earthly passage.
I want to see the girls and boys I used to know at your age that have
gone on. Many of them had awful trouble and disgrace before they went,
and some died in pain and poverty, but I don't believe they are
suffering now, and they will come to meet me, too, and lend me some of
their joy. Old Whaley's eternal-damnation idea for some of God's
children don't go down with me. There is punishment--oh, I know that
well enough, but it is here in the consciences of folks that go crooked.
Wait, wait! You can't tie a cravat. It is the first time you ever wore a
white one, isn't it? Let me see if I can do it. I used to know how."
With a happy laugh, John bent downward and the contractor pulled the
narrow strip of lawn into place around the stiff collar and managed to
tie it fairly well. "You will cut a dash, my boy, for that is a dandy
suit, and it fits you like a kid glove. These mountain fellers don't get
as stylish a cut as that from these cross-roads stores, and no such
material by a long shot. I'm going to say something and I'm afraid you
will be hurt, but I hope you will remember that I feel like a father to
you."
"Shoot it out!" John laughed. "Fire away."
"Well, you can't accuse me of being foolish about what is style and what
ain't, John, but there are a few things that I wish you'd remember not
to do any more. You see, I never lived with you down home--never set
with you at the table and the like, and so I didn't notice anything out
of the way, but--" The contractor was avoiding John's questioning stare
and suddenly broke off.
"Why, what do you mean?" John asked. "Have I been doing anything wrong?"
"Oh no, and maybe not a single one has ever noticed what I have, but I
must say there are a few things that sometimes I wish you wouldn't do.
Oh, I'm going to tell you and be done with it, because if I don't some
young lady may and that would hurt worse. John, I don't like the way you
act at the table sometimes. I hope you won't get mad, but I don't."
"Well, what's wrong?" John asked, a look of shame crossing his face as
he stood mechanically brushing his coat-sleeve with his big, splaying
hand.
"There are several little things," Cavanaugh went on, lamely. "For
instance, there is always a big spoon on the bean-dish or the
cabbage-plate, and we are expected to use it when we are asked to help
ourselves, but I've seen you take your knife, fork, or teaspoon and
rake it out exactly as if you was scraping mortar from a board."
"Oh, I see, I see." John smiled in a sheepish sort of way. "So that is
wrong, eh?"
"Yes, and then you stick your knife in your mouth loaded to the brink
with stuff, and I've seen you use your fingers, John. I've seen you pick
up a chunk of meat with your fingers and ram it in like you was plugging
a hole in a sinking boat. You begin eating before the rest do, too, and
that don't look nice, I must say. You are all right--all right, but it
is just a few little things like those that you ought to watch out for
and try to avoid. These are plain-living folks, but still they seem to
have pretty good manners--that is, except the old man. He does a lot o'
things that he ought not to do. He drinks coffee out of a saucer, and,
although I saw him rubbing the back of a cat just before we sat down
yesterday, he broke off a piece of bread with his hands and handed it to
me that way, and not on a fork or a plate, as would be proper. If the
women hadn't been there and akin to him, I'd have throwed it down."
John had turned to the bureau for a handkerchief. He was angry, but more
at himself than his gentle companion.
"It is all poppycock," he said, suddenly. "I'm astonished, Sam, to hear
you say such fool things--you, a man of your age and trade. I thought
you was a plain, sensible man. Why, you are trying to be a dude."
Nevertheless, as the old man sat silent, John made up his mind that the
advice was worth heeding and he forced a smile.
"All right, Sam," he said; "I'll remember next time. I'm new at this
game."
"I thought you'd take it sensible," Cavanaugh said, in relief. "Now
there is another little thing. It seems to me that, as you are going to
escort Tilly there, you oughtn't to be behind time. You know you always
had a bad memory, and it wouldn't look exactly right for you to keep her
sitting somewhere waiting on you. A man ought to be first on deck in a
jaunt like this."
"I was wondering about that." John stared eagerly. "She didn't say what
time we'd leave the house. Do you suppose she'd want to start now?"
"I don't know, but I'll tell you what we'll do to be on the safe side.
Let's go down in the yard and set about. I've got two cigars. You take
one and I'll take one and we'll smoke till something turns up."
They went down the stairs and out into the yard. They saw no one about
the house and they took chairs under the trees near the fence. They had
hardly seated themselves when a horse and buggy stopped at the gate. A
man and a woman sat in the buggy. Giving the reins to his companion, the
man sprang down and came in at the gate. In the light of the rising moon
John saw that it was Joel Eperson.
"Good evening," the young farmer said to John. "Is Miss Tilly about?"
John sat immovable. He turned his cigar over in his mouth and looked up
fiercely. "What are you asking _me_ for?" he snarled. "I'm not keeping
the door."
"I beg your pardon;" Joel said, in a startled tone. "I meant no harm. My
sister and I came by to see if she'd like to go to a party over at my
cousin's house."
John made no reply. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and
pulled at his cigar. Cavanaugh saw that he was in a rage and rose to his
feet.
"I believe Miss Tilly is getting ready now," he explained, mildly. "She
is going with my young friend here, I understand; but, of course, if you
and your sister want to see her, why, maybe you'd better knock at the
door. Somebody will hear and come out."
"Oh no, no!" Joel was now flooded with embarrassment. "I didn't know she
was provided for so nicely, and-- No, we'll drive on. I wouldn't want to
hurry Miss Tilly. I can explain it to her at the party. She will
understand, anyway, for sister and I often come by after her."
Bowing politely and still confused, Eperson backed away a few feet, and
then, restoring his hat to his head, he rejoined his sister.
"I'm sorry to see you act that way, John," Cavanaugh deplored, as the
buggy disappeared down the road. "I know the reason of it, I reckon, but
still you went a bit too far. It is give and take in a game like the one
you and this chap are playing, and if you don't want to lose, you'd
better be careful."
John stared, still angry. "I've got no use for him," he sniffed. "He
looks like a jack-leg preacher or a mountain singing-teacher, bowing and
scraping and holding his hat in his hand before two men. He has no
backbone. He is as yellow as a pumpkin, and ought to have that long hair
of his parted in the middle and tied in a knot behind his head."
"I know, but he looks honest and straight, and he is dead in love.
That's one reason he's so timid, even with us. It works that way with
some men. You are different. It makes a wild man of you, especially when
the fair one is looked at by somebody else. But you've got to hold in.
This fellow has got prior rights to you in this deal, and if you are too
rough it may go against you. I don't say it will, but it may."