Lady Good-for-Nothing Part 31

Now since Diana had hold of the reins, and Mrs. Harry was for the moment in no condition to lend a hand, and since Lady Caroline would as lief have touched leprosy as have accepted help from Ruth Josselin, her ascent into the van fell something short of dignity. The rearward of her person was ample; she hitched her skirt in the step, thus exposing an inordinate amount of not over-clean white stocking; and, to make matters worse, Farmer Cordery cast off at the wrong moment and stood back from the horse's head.

"Los.h.!.+ but I'm sorry," said he, gazing after the catastrophic result.

"Look at her, there, kickin' like a cast ewe. . . ." He turned a serious face on Ruth and added, "Vigorous, too, for her years."

Ruth, returning to the verandah, bent over little Miss Quiney, who sat unsmiling, with rigid eyes. "Dear Tatty,"--she kissed her--"were they so very dreadful?"

Miss Quiney started as if awaking from a nightmare.

"That woman--darling, whatever her rank, I _cannot_ term her a lady!--"

"Go on, dear."

"I cannot. Sit beside me, here, for a while, and let me feel my arm about you. . . ."

They sat thus for a long while silent, while twilight crept over the plain and wrapped itself about the homestead.

Ruth was thinking. "If I forfeit this, it will be hardest of all."

Chapter XIV.

MR. SILK PROPOSES.

Farmer Cordery had six grown sons--Jonathan, George, William, Increase, Homer, and Lemuel--the eldest eight-and-twenty, the youngest sixteen.

All were strapping fellows, and each as a matter of course had fallen over head and ears in love with Ruth.

They were good lads and knew it to be hopeless. She had stepped into their home as a G.o.ddess from a distant star, to abide with them for a while. They wors.h.i.+pped, none confessing his folly; but it made them her slaves, and emulous to s.h.i.+ne before her as though she had been a queen of tournay. Because of her presence (it must be sadly owned) challengings, bickerings, even brotherly quarrels, disturbed more and more the patriarchal peace of Sweet.w.a.ter Farm. "I dunno what's come over the boys," their father grumbled; "al'ays showing off an'

jim-jeerin'. Regilar c.o.c.ks on a dunghill. A few years agone I'd 've cured it wi' the strap; but now there's no remedy."

William had challenged his eldest brother Jonathan to "put" a large round-shot that lay in the verandah. Their father had brought it home from the capture of Louisbourg as a souvenir. Jonathan and George had served at Louisbourg too, in the Ma.s.sachusetts Volunteers; but William, though of age to fight, had been left at home to look after the farm and his mother. It had been a sore disappointment at the time; now that Jonathan and George had taken on a sudden to boast, it rankled.

Hence the challenge. The three younger lads joined in. If they could not defeat their seniors, they could at least dispute the mastery among themselves. Thereupon in all seriousness (ingenuous youths!) they voted that Miss Josselin should be asked to umpire.

The contest took place next morning after breakfast, in a paddock beyond the elms, with Ruth for umpire and sole spectator. Nothing had been said to the farmer, who was fast losing his temper with "these derned wagerings," and might have come down with a veto that none dared disobey. He had ridden off, however, at sun-up to the mountain, to look after the half-wild hogs he kept at pasture among the woods at its base.

Ruth measured out the casts conscientiously. In no event would the young men have disputed her arbitrament; but, as it happened, this nicety was thrown away. Jonathan's "put" of forty feet--the shot weighed close upon sixteen pounds--easily excelled the others', who were sportsmen and could take a whipping without bad blood or dispute.

The winner crowed a little, to be sure; it was the New England way.

But Lemuel the youngest, who had outgrown his strength, had made a deplorable "put," and the rest jeered at him, to relieve their feelings.

The boy fired up. "Oh, have your laugh!" he blazed, with angry tears in his eyes. "But when it comes to running, there's not one of you but knows I can put circles round him."

"Take you on, this moment," answered up young Increase. "Say, boys, we'll all take him on."

Jonathan had no mind for any such "foolishness." He had won, and was content; and running didn't become the dignity of a grown man.

"We didn't run at Louisbourg, I guess." George echoed him. George could out-tire even Jonathan at wood-cutting, but had no length of leg.

But Ruth having compa.s.sion on the boy's hurt feelings, persuaded them.

They could refuse no straight request of hers. She pointed to an outlying elm that marked the boundary of the second pasture field beyond the steading. This should be the turning-post, and would give them a course well over half a mile, with a water-jump to be crossed twice.

She ranged them in line, and dropped her handkerchief for signal.

They were off. She stood with the sun at her back and watched the race.

George, of the short legs, broad shoulders, and bullet head, was a sprinter (as we call it nowadays) and shot at once to the front, with Homer not far behind, and Increase disputing the third place with Lemuel. Jonathan and William made scarcely a show of competing.

The eldest lad, indeed, coming to the brook, did not attempt to jump, but floundered heavily through it, scrambled up the farther bank, and lumbered on in hopeless pursuit. It was here that Lemuel's long easy stride a.s.serted itself, and taking first place he reached the tree with several yards' lead.

"He will win at his ease now," said Ruth to herself; and just at that moment her ears caught the sound of a horse's footfall. She turned; but the sun shone full in her eyes, and not for a second or two did she recognise her visitor, Mr. Silk.

He was on horseback, and, stooping from his saddle, was endeavouring just now--but very unhandily--to unhasp the gate with the crook of his riding-whip. Ruth did not offer to go to his help.

He managed it at last, thrust the horse through by vigorous use of his knees, and was riding straight up to the house. But just then he caught sight of her, changed his course, and came towards her at a walk.

"Ah, good-morning!" he called.

"Good-morning."

He dismounted. "Thought I'd ride over and pay you a call. The ladies will not be starting on their return journey for another couple of hours. So I borrowed a horse."

"Evidently."

"There's something wrong with him, I doubt." Mr. Silk was disagreeably red and moist.

"I dare say he is not used to being ridden mainly--or was it wholly?--on the curb."

He grinned. "Well, and I'm not used to riding, and that's a fact.

But"--he leered the compliment--"there are few dangers I would not brave for a glance from Miss Josselin."

"You flatter me, sir. But I believe you braved a worse, yesterday, without claiming that reward."

"Ah! You mean that Sir Oliver will be angry when he gets wind of our little expedition? The ladies persuaded me--Adam's old excuse; I can deny nothing to the s.e.x. . . . But what have we yonder? A race?"

"It would appear so."

"A very hollow one, if I may criticise. That youngster moves like a deer. . . . And what is his reward to be?--another glance of these bright eyes? Ah, Miss Josselin, you make fools--and heroes--of us all!"

Ruth turned from him to applaud young Lemuel, who came darting into the enclosure.

"See old Jonathan!" panted the boy, looking back and laughing.

"That's how they ran at Louisbourg. . . . Miss Josselin, you should have made it a mile and I'd have shown you some broken-winded ones."

He laughed again and turned in apology to Mr. Silk. "I'll take your horse to stable, sir, if you'll let me catch my breath."

The others came straggling up, a little abashed at sight of the stranger, but not surprised out of their good manners.

"A clergyman?" said Jonathan. "My father will be home before sundown, sir. He will be proud if you can stay and have dinner with us."

Mr. Silk explained that he had ridden over from Natchett to call on Miss Josselin and had but an hour to spare. They insisted, however, that he must eat before leaving, and they led away his horse to bait, leaving him and Ruth together.