THE MADNESS OF MUCH KISSING
"That was a very noble thing of you," Miss Grace Sheraton was saying to
me, as we passed slowly among the big trees of the Sheraton apple
orchard. Her eyes were rather soft and a slight color lay upon her
cheeks, whose ivory hue was rarely heightened in this way.
"I am in ignorance, Miss Grace," I said to her.
"Fie! You know very well what I mean--about yesterday."
"Oh, that," said I, and went rather red of the face, for I thought she
meant my salutation at the gate.
She, redder now than myself, needed no explanation as to what I meant.
"No, not that," she began hastily, "that was not noble, but vile of you!
I mean at the tavern, where you took my part--"
So then I saw that word in some way had come to her of the little brawl
between Harry Singleton and myself. Then indeed my face grew scarlet.
"It was nothing," said I, "simply nothing at all." But to this she would
not listen.
"To protect an absent woman is always manly," she said. (It was the
women of the South who set us all foolish about chivalry.) "I thank you
for caring for my name."
Now, I should have grown warmer in the face and in the heart at this,
but the very truth is that I felt a chill come over me, as though I
were getting deeper into cold water. I guessed her mind. Now, how was I,
who had kissed her at the lane, who had defended her when absent, who
called now in state with his father and mother in the family
carriage--how was I to say I was not of the same mind as she? I pulled
the ears of the hunting dog until he yelped in pain.
We were deep in the great Sheraton orchard, across the fence which
divided it from the house grounds, so far that only the great chimney of
the house showed above the trees. The shade was gracious, the fragrance
alluring. At a distance the voices of singing negroes came to us.
Presently we came to a fallen apple tree, a giant perhaps planted there
generations before. We seated ourselves here, and we should have been
happy, for we were young, and all about us was sweet and comforting.
Yet, on my honor, I would rather at that moment have been talking to my
mother than to Grace Sheraton. I did not know why.
For some time we sat there, pulling at apple blossoms and grass stems,
and talking of many things quite beside the real question; but at last
there came an interruption. I heard the sound of a low, rumbling bellow
approaching through the trees, and as I looked up I saw, coming forward
with a certain confidence, Sir Jonas, the red Sheraton bull, with a ring
in his nose, and in his carriage an intense haughtiness for one so
young. I knew all about Sir Jonas, for we had bred him on our farm, and
sold him not long since to the Sheratons.
Miss Grace gathered her skirts for instant flight, but I quickly pushed
her down. I knew the nature of Sir Jonas very well, and saw that flight
would mean disaster long before she could reach any place of safety.
"Keep quiet," I said to her in a low voice. "Don't make any quick
motions, or he'll charge. Come with me, slowly now."
Very pale, and with eyes staring at the intruder, she arose as I bade
her and slowly moved toward the tree which I had in mind. "Now--quick!"
I said, and catching her beneath the arms I swung her up into the low
branches. Her light lawn gown caught on a knotty limb, somewhat to her
perturbation, and ere I could adjust it and get her safe aloft Sir Jonas
had made up his mind. He came on with head down, in a short, savage
rush, and his horn missed my trouser leg by no more than an inch as I
dodged around the tree. At this I laughed, but Miss Grace screamed,
until between my hasty actions I called to her to keep quiet.
Sir Jonas seemed to have forgotten my voice, and though I commanded him
to be gone, he only shook his curly front and came again with head low
and short legs working very fast. Once more he nearly caught me with a
side lunge of his wicked horns as he whirled. He tossed up his head then
and bolted for the tree where Miss Grace had her refuge. Then I saw it
was the red lining of her Parisian parasol which had enraged him. "Throw
it down!" I called out to her. She could not find it in her heart to
toss it straight down to Sir Jonas, who would have trampled it at once,
so she cast it sidelong toward me, and inch by inch I beat Sir Jonas in
the race to it. Then I resolved that he should not have it at all, and
so tossed it into the branches of another tree as I ran.
"Come," called the girl to me, "jump! Get up into a tree. He can't catch
you there."
But I was in no mind to take to a tree, and wait for some inglorious
discovery by a rescue party from the house. I found my fighting blood
rising, and became of the mind to show Sir Jonas who was his master,
regardless of who might be his owner.
His youth kept him in good wind still, and he charged me again and
again, keeping me hard put to it to find trees enough, even in an
orchard full of trees. Once he ripped the bark half off a big trunk as I
sprang behind it, and he stood with his head still pressed there, not
two feet from where I was, with my hand against the tree, braced for a
sudden spring. His front foot dug in the sod, his eyes were red, and
between his grumbles his breath came in puffs and snorts of anger.
Evidently he meant me ill, and this thought offended me.
Near by me on the ground lay a ragged limb, cut from some tree by the
pruners, now dry, tough and not ill-shaped for a club. I reached back
with my foot and pulled it within reach, then stooped quickly and got it
in hand, breaking off a few of the lesser branches with one foot, as we
still stood there eying each other. "Now, sir," said I to Sir Jonas at
last, "I shall show you that no little bull two years old can make me a
laughing stock." Then I sprang out and carried the war into Africa
forthwith.
Sir Jonas was surprised when I came from behind the tree and swung a
hard blow to the side of his tender nose; and as I repeated this, he
grunted, blew out his breath and turned his head to one side with closed
eyes, raising his muzzle aloft in pain. Once more I struck him fair on
the muzzle, and this time he bawled loudly in surprise and anguish, and
so turned to run. This act of his offered me fair hold upon his tail,
and so affixed to him, I followed smiting him upon the back with blows
which I think cut through his hide where the pointed knots struck. Thus
with loud orders and with a voice which he ought better to have
remembered, I brought him to his senses and pursued him entirely out of
the orchard, so that he had no mind whatever to return. After which,
with what dignity I could summon, I returned to the tree where Grace
Sheraton was still perched aloft. Drawing my riding gloves from my
pocket I reached up my hands, somewhat soiled with the encounter, and so
helped her down to earth once more. And once more her gaze, soft and not
easily to be mistaken, rested upon me.
"Tell me, Jack Cowles," she said, "is there anything in the world you
are afraid to do?"
"At least I'm not afraid to give a lesson to any little Sir Jonas that
has forgot his manners," I replied. "But I hope you are not hurt in any
way?" She shook her head, smoothing out her gown, and again raised her
eyes to mine.
We seated ourselves again upon our fallen apple tree. Her hand fell upon
my coat sleeve. We raised our eyes. They met. Our lips met also--I do
not know how.
I do not hold myself either guilty or guiltless. I am only a man now. I
was only a boy then. But even then I had my notions, right or wrong, as
to what a gentleman should be and do. At least this is how Grace
Sheraton and I became engaged.