The Gentleman from Indiana - Page 65/212

"How time does change us!" said John. "You are wrong, though; I did

think of you; I have al----"

"Yes," she interrupted, tossing her head in airy travesty of the stage

coquette, "you think so--I mean you say so--now. Away with you and your

blarneying!"

And so they went through the warm noontide, and little he cared for the

heat that wilted the fat mullein leaves and made the barefoot boy, who

passed by, skip gingerly through the burning dust with anguished mouth and

watery eye. Little he knew of the locust that suddenly whirred his mills

of shrillness in the maple-tree, and sounded so hot, hot, hot; or those

others that railed at the country quiet from the dim shade around the

brick house; or even the rain-crow that sat on the fence and swore to them

in the face of a sunny sky that they should see rain ere the day were

done.

Little the young man recked of what he ate at Judge Briscoe's good noon

dinner: chicken wing and young roas'n'-ear; hot rolls as light as the

fluff of a summer cloudlet; and honey and milk; and apple-butter flavored

like spices of Arabia; and fragrant, flaky cherry-pie; and cool, rich,

yellow cream. Lige Willetts was a lover, yet he said he asked no better

than to Just go on eating that cherry-pie till a sweet death overtook him;

but railroad sandwiches and restaurant chops might have been set before

Harkless for all the difference it would have made to him.

At no other time is a man's feeling of companionship with a woman so

strong as when he sits at table with her-not at a "decorated" and

becatered and bewaitered table, but at a homely, appetizing, wholesome

home table like old Judge Briscoe's. The very essence of the thing is

domesticity, and the implication is utter confidence and liking. There are

few greater dangers for a bachelor. An insinuating imp perches on his

shoulder, and, softly tickling the bachelor's ear with the feathers of an

arrow-shaft, whispers: "Pretty nice, isn't it, eh? Rather pleasant to have

that girl sitting there, don't you think? Enjoy having her notice your

butter-plate was empty? Think it exhilarating to hand her those rolls?

Looks nice, doesn't she? Says 'Thank you' rather prettily? Makes your

lonely breakfast seem mighty dull, doesn't it? How would you like to have

her pour your coffee for you to-morrow, my boy? How would it seem to have

such pleasant company all the rest of your life? Pretty cheerful, eh?"

When Miss Sherwood passed the editor the apple-butter, the casual, matter-

of-course way she did it entranced him in a strange, exquisite wonderment.

He did not set the dish down when she put it in his hand, but held it

straight out before him, just looking at it, until Mr. Willetts had a

dangerous choking fit, for which Minnie was very proud of Lige; no one

could have suspected that it was the veil of laughter. When Helen told

John he really must squeeze a lemon into his iced tea, he felt that his

one need in life was to catch her up in his arms and run away with her,

not anywhere in particular, but just run and run and run away.