Mildred Keith - Complete 7 Book Collection. Finley Martha

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СКАЧАТЬ was nothing of the dandy about the honest fellow, yet somehow dressing was a slow business with him to-night; he stood before a little square of looking-glass hanging on the wall, tying and retying his cravat till it was too dark to see, then giving up in sheer despair went down over the roof as he had come, and sought his mother, who, with the help of Emmaretta and Minerva, was washing dishes in the kitchen.

      "My land!" she exclaimed, as he came in, "what a time you've been up there. I never knowed you to take half as long to dress afore."

      "My fingers are all thumbs," he said, a hot flush overspreading his sunburnt face, "I can't tie this decent nohow at all."

      "Well, just wait till I can wipe my hands, and I'll do it. There, that'll do; the girls ain't agoin' to look partickler hard at that bit o' black ribbing."

      "Maybe not, but I'm obleeged to you all the same for fixin' it right. Is it time to go in?"

      "Of course, if you want to."

      He passed out at the back door and through the yard into the street. He was bashful and did not like to face such a bevy of girls alone; at the thought of addressing one of their number in especial—Mildred Keith—he felt himself grow hot and uncomfortable. He had been admiring her from a distance all these weeks, but had never met her, and much as he desired an acquaintance, his courage seemed hardly equal to seeking it now.

      How rough and boorish, how awkward and ill-bred he would appear to one so delicate and refined.

      He waited about a little, till joined by a fellow mechanic, Nicholas Ransquattle, when they went in together.

      This was a wiser step than Gotobed knew; for his well-made, stalwart figure showed to good advantage beside that of Nicholas, who was short and thick-set, had scarcely any neck, moved like a wooden man, and carried his head thrown back on his shoulders; he had a wooden face, too; large featured and stolid in expression.

      But he was not troubled with bashfulness or any fear that his society would be other than most acceptable to any one upon whom he might see fit to bestow it.

      "Good evening, ladies; I'm happy to meet you all," he said, making a sweeping bow to the company as he entered, hat in hand. "And I hope I see you well."

      "Good evening," responded several voices. "Good-evening, Mr. Lightcap."

      "Find yourselves seats and we'll give you employment, threading our needles for us."

      Rhoda Jane was snuffing the candles. Hastily laying down her snuffers, she introduced the young men to Mildred, and dexterously managed to seat Ransquattle on the farther side of the room, leaving the field clear for her brother; for an empty chair stood invitingly at Miss Keith's side.

      Gotobed took it, and, almost wondering at his own audacity, addressed his divinity with a remark upon the weather—that never-failing resource when all other topics elude us.

      She answered with gracious sweetness,

      "Yes it has been a lovely day, Mr. Lightcap."

      What should he say next.

      "I—I guess you never sewed carpet rags afore?"

      "Is it my awkwardness at the business that makes you think so?" she returned, with a quizzical look and smile, as she lifted her fine eyes to his face.

      "No, no, no sirree! ma'am, I mean," he stammered growing red and hot; "you do it beautiful!"

      "Let me give you some work," she said, taking pity on his embarrassment; "will you thread this needle for me?"

      "And then mine, please," put in Claudina, who was again seated near her friend; then to his further relief she launched out into a reminiscence of a candy pulling they had both attended the year before.

      Others of "the boys" came flocking in, the work was speedily finished, there was some tossing back and forth of the balls, amid rather uproarious laughter; but some of them unwound and became entangled; and so that sport was given up; the girls washed their hands as before supper; Blindman's Buff, Puss in the Corner and other games were played with as much zest as if the players had been a parcel of children; then refreshments followed, served up in the kitchen; huckleberries with cream and sugar, watermelons, and muskmelons, doughnuts and cup cake.

      At eleven o'clock the party broke up and the young men saw the girls safely home, Gotobed being so fortunate as to secure the privilege of waiting upon Mildred to her father's door.

      She would, perhaps, have slightly preferred the attentions of Yorke Mocker, or Wallace Ormsby; both of whom she had met before and who were young men of much better education and much more polish and refinement than poor Gotobed.

      It was Mrs. Keith who admitted her daughter; every one else in the house having retired.

      "Had you a pleasant time?" she asked, with a motherly smile.

      "I heard some of the others, as they went away, saying it had been perfectly splendid," Mildred answered with an amused little laugh, "but the fun was of rather too rough a sort for me."

      "Games?"

      "Yes, ma'am; and I took part until they began kissing; when I retired to the ranks of the spectators."

      "That was right," Mrs. Keith said emphatically.

      "And what do you think, mother?" laughed Mildred. "Viny Apple was one of the guests. The idea of being invited out to meet your ci-devant housemaid and cook! isn't it too funny?"

      "Well, dear, let us be thankful that Celestine Ann was not invited also; leaving me to get tea to-night," Mrs. Keith said, joining in the laugh.

      Chapter Fifteenth.

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      "The knight, perusing this epistle,

       Believ'd h' had brought her to his whistle.

       And read it like a jocund lover,

       With great applause t' himself twice over."

       —Butler's Hudibras.

      Rhoda Jane had set the ball in motion and for several weeks similar festivities were much in vogue among the young people of Pleasant Plains. There were other rag carpet bees, some quilting, berrying and nutting parties, boatings on the river, "buggy rides," and rides on horseback.

      Then as the days grew short and the evenings long, a singing school was started. It met once a week at Damaris Drybread's schoolroom, was largely attended by the youth of both sexes, quite as much for the sport to be got out of it as for the improvement of their vocal powers.

      Each carried thither a note book and a tallow candle, and at the end of the term paid his or her proportion of the salary of the teacher—one Timothy Buzzard, from a neighboring town.

      Not the fittest name in the world for a singing teacher, people said; but then he couldn't help that, and soon proved himself competent for what he had undertaken; for imparting instruction at least;—as to keeping order among his pupils, some of whom were years older than himself—that he СКАЧАТЬ