A Forest Hearth: A Romance of Indiana in the Thirties Part 3

Soon after Dic's arrival, Tom rode over to see Sukey Yates. As the hollyhock to the bees, so was Sukey to the country beaux--a conspicuous, inviting, easily reached little reservoir of very sweet honey. Later, Mr. and Mrs. Bays drove to town, leaving Dic and Rita to themselves, much to the girl's alarm, though she and Dic had been alone together many times before. Thus Dic had further opportunity to make a mistake; but he did not mention the letter, and the girl's confidence came slowly back to her.

The evening was balmy, and after a time Dic and Rita walked to the crest of the little slope that fell gently ten or fifteen feet to the water's edge. A sycamore log answered the purpose of a divan, and a great drooping elm furnished a royal canopy. A half-moon hung in the sky, whitening a few small clouds that seemed to be painted on the blue-black dome. The air, though not oppressive, was warm enough to make all nature languorous, and the soft breath of the south wind was almost narcotic in its power to soothe. A great forest is never still; even its silence has a note of its own. The trees seem to whisper to each other in the rustling of their leaves. The birds, awakened by the wind or by the breaking of a twig, speak to their neighbors. The peevish catbird and the blue jay grumble, while the thrush, the dove, and the redbird peep caressingly to their mates, and again fall asleep with gurgles of contentment in their throats.

Rita and Dic sat by the river's edge for many minutes in silence. The ever wakeful whippoorwill piped his doleful cry from a tree across the water, an owl hooted from the blackness of the forest beyond the house, and the turtle-doves cooed plaintively to each other in their far-reaching, mournful tones, giving a minor note to the nocturnal concert. Now and then a fish sprang from the water and fell back with a splash, and the water itself kept up a soft babble like the notes of a living flute.

Certainly the time was ripe for a mistake, but Dic did not make one. A woman's favor comes in waves like the flowing of the sea; and a wise man, if he fails to catch one flood, will wait for another. Dic was unconsciously wise, for Rita's favor was at its ebb when she walked down to the river bank. Ebb tide was indicated by the fact that she sat as far as possible from him on the log. The first evidence of a returning flood-tide would be an unconscious movement on her part toward him.

Should the movement come from him there might be no flood-tide.

During the first half-hour Dic did most of the talking, but he spoke only of a book he had borrowed from Billy Little. With man's usual tendency to talk a subject threadbare, he clung to the one topic. A few months prior to that time his observations on the book would have interested the girl; but recently two or three unusual events had touched her life, and her dread that Dic would speak of them, was rapidly growing into a fear that he would not. By the end of that first half-hour, her feminine vivacity monopolized the conversation with an ostentatious display of trivial details on small subjects, and she began to move toward his end of the log. Still Dic kept his place, all unconscious of his wisdom.

Geese seemed to be Rita's favorite topic. Most women are clever at periphrasis, and will go a long way around to reach a desired topic, if for any reason they do not wish to approach it directly. The topics Rita wished to reach, as she edged toward Dic on the log and talked about geese, were her unkind words and her very kind letter. She wished to explain that her words were not meant to be unkind, and that the letter was not meant to be kind, and thought to reach the desired topics by the way of geese.

"Do you remember, Dic," she asked, "a long time ago, when Tom and I and the Yates children spent the afternoon at your house? We were sitting near the river, as we are sitting now, and a gray wolf ran down from the opposite bank and caught a gander?"

"Yes, I remember it as if it were yesterday," replied Dic.

"Geese are such fools when they are frightened," continued Rita, clinging to her subject.

"So are people," answered Dic. "We are all foolish when frightened. The other day the barn door slammed to with a crash, and I was so frightened I tried to put the collar in the horse's mouth." Rita laughed, and Dic continued, "Once I was in the woods hunting, and a bear rose up--"

"But geese are worse than anybody when disturbed," interrupted Rita, "worse even than you when the barn door slams. The other day I wanted to catch a goose to get a--"

"They are not worse than a lot of girls at gabbling," interrupted Dic, ungallantly retaliating for Rita's humorous thrust.

"They are not half so dull as a lot of men," she replied, tossing her head. "When men get together they hum and hum about politics and crops, till it makes one almost wish there were no government or crops. But geese are--the other day I wanted to catch one to get a--"

"All men don't hum and hum, as you say," returned Dic. "There's Billy Little--you don't think he hums, do you?"

"No," answered the girl; "Billy Little always says something when he talks, but he's always talking. I will put him against any man in the world for a talking match. But the other day I wanted to catch a goose to get a quill, and--"

"Oh, that reminds me," broke in Dic, "my Uncle Joe Bright is coming to visit us soon. Talk about talkers! He is a Seventh Day Adventist preacher, and his conversation--no, I'll say his talk, for that's all it is--reminds me of time."

"How is that?" queried Rita.

"It's made up of small particles, goes on forever, and is all seconds.

He says nothing first hand. His talk is all borrowed."

Rita laughed and tried again. "Well, I wanted to catch--"

"You just spoke of a talking match," said Dic. "I have an idea. Let us bring Billy Little and my uncle together for a talking match."

"Very well," replied Rita, laughing heartily. "I'll stake my money on Billy Little. But I was saying, the other day I--"

"I'll put mine on Uncle Joe," cried Dic. "Billy Little is a 'still Bill'

compared with him."

Rita was provoked, and I think with good reason; but after a pause she concluded to try once more.

"The other day I wanted a quill for a pen, and when I tried to catch a goose I thought their noise would alarm the whole settlement."

"Geese awakened Rome," said Dic. "If they should awaken Blue River, it, also, might become famous. The geese episode is the best known fact concerning the Eternal City--unless perhaps it is her howling."

"Rome had a right to howl," said Rita, anxious to show that she remembered his teaching. "She was founded by the children of a wolf."

Dic was pleased and laughingly replied: "That ponderous historical epigram is good enough to have come from Billy Little himself. When you learn a fact, it immediately grows luminous."

The girl looked quickly up to satisfy herself that he was in earnest.

Being satisfied, she moved an inch or two nearer him on the log, and began again:--

"I wanted to catch the goose--" but she stopped and concluded to try the Billy Little road. "Dear old Billy Little," she said, "isn't he good?

The other day he said he'd trust me for the whole store, if I wanted to buy it. I had no money and I wanted to buy--"

"Why should he not trust you for all you would buy?" asked Dic. "He knows he would get his money."

The Billy Little route also seemed hilly. She concluded to try another, and again made a slight movement toward Dic on the log.

"I went from your house this afternoon over to Sukey's." She looked stealthily at Dic, but he did not flinch. After a pause she continued, with a great show of carelessness and indifference, though this time she moved away from him as she spoke. "She said you had been over to see her last night." And to show that she was not at all interested in his reply, she hummed the air of a song and carefully scrutinized a star that was coming dangerously close to the moon.

"Yes, I went over to borrow their adze. Ours is broken," returned Dic.

The song ceased. Star and moon might collide for all the singer cared.

She was once again interested in things terrestrial.

"Now, Dic," she cried, again moving toward him and unduly emphasizing the fact that she was merely teasing (she talked to tease, but listened to learn), "now, Dic, you know the adze was only an excuse. You went to see Sukey. You know you did. Why didn't you borrow Kaster's adze? They live much nearer your house." She thought she had him in a trap, and laughed as if she were delighted.

"I went to Kaster's first. They had none."

The girl concluded she was on the wrong road. But the side road had suddenly become interesting, and she determined to travel it a short way. Silence ensued on Dic's part, and travel on the side road became slow. Rita was beginning to want to gallop. If she continued on the side road, she feared her motive might grow to look more like a desire to learn than a desire to tease; but she summoned her boldness, and with a laugh that was intended to be merry, said:--

"Dic, you know you went to see Sukey, and that you spent the evening with her."

"Did she say I did?" he asked, turning sharply upon her.

"Well--" replied Rita, but she did not continue. The Sukey Yates road _was_ interesting, unusually so.

Dic paused for an answer, but receiving none, continued with emphasis:--

"I did not go into the house. I wasn't there five minutes, and I didn't say ten words to Sukey."

"You need not get mad about it," replied the girl. "I don't care how often you go to see Sukey or any other girl."

"I know you don't," he returned. "Of course you don't care. I never hoped--never even dreamed--that you would," and his breath came quickly with his bold, bold words.

"You might as well begin to dream," thought the girl, but she laughed, this time nervously, and said, "She told me you were there and took--took hold of--that is, she said you were so strong that when you took hold of her she felt that you could crush her." Then forgetting herself for a moment, she moved quite close to Dic and asked, "_Did_ you take--take--" but she stopped.

"Tell me, Rita," returned Dic, with a sharpness that attracted her attention at once, "did she say I took hold of her, or are you trying to tease me? If you are teasing, I think it is in bad taste. If she said--"

"Well," interrupted the girl, slightly frightened, "she said that when you take hold of one--"