The Cottage of Delight Part 8

CHAPTER X

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 pa.s.sage.

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-d.a.m.nation idea for some of G.o.d'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 brus.h.i.+ng 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 sc.r.a.ping 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 poppyc.o.c.k," 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 embarra.s.sment. "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 sc.r.a.ping 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."

CHAPTER XI

John was about to make some retort when Tilly suddenly came out to them.

She was dressed in white, wore no head-covering, and appeared very pretty and somehow changed.

"Oh, you are all ready to go!" she said, smiling on John. "Here is something for you to wear." She held out a few leaves of geranium and a white rosebud and proceeded to pin them on the lapel of his coat. "It is the custom," she explained. "All the girls give them to the young men they go with. Now, now, isn't that nice, Mr. Cavanaugh?"

"Fine! Beautiful! It sets him off just right!" the old man cried.

John looked pleased, but said nothing.

"Why don't he thank the little trick?" Cavanaugh wondered, resentfully.

"And why don't the goose stand up?"

"I don't believe you like flowers," Tilly said, pretending to pout.

Still John said nothing, but what astonished Cavanaugh was the fact that Tilly evidently understood his mood, for she gave a little pat to a wrinkle the pin had made in his lapel and smiled.

"I thought I heard wheels just now," she remarked. "They seemed to stop here."

"It was that fellow Eperson with his sister," John blurted out. "They came by to take you to the party. He acted like he owned you."

"Oh, it was Joel and Martha Jane!" Tilly smiled. "Oh no, he doesn't think he owns me, by any means. Martha Jane put him up to it. She and I are great friends and she was afraid I wouldn't get an escort."