Part 5 (1/2)

Mrs. Hightower found early opportunity to deliver her verdict in Sis's ear, whereupon the latter gave her a little hug, and whispered: ”Oh, I just think he's adorable!” It was very queer, however, that as soon as Sis was left to entertain Mr. Woodward (the women making an excuse of helping Puss about dinner), she lost her blus.h.i.+ng enthusiasm, and became quite cold and reserved. The truth is, Sis had convinced herself some days before that she had the right to be very angry with this young man, and she began her quarrel, as lovely woman generally does, by a.s.suming an air of tremendous unconcern. Her disinterestedness was really provoking.

”How did you like Sue Fraley's new bonnet last Sunday?” she asked, with an innocent smile.

”Sue Fraley's new bonnet!” exclaimed Woodward, surprised in the midst of some serious reflections; ”why, I didn't know she had a new bonnet.”

”Oh! you _didn't_? You were right _opposite_. I should think _anybody_ could see she had a new bonnet by the way she tossed her head.”

”Well, I didn't notice it, for one. Was it one of these sky-sc.r.a.pers? I was looking at something else.”

”_Oh!_”

Woodward had intended to convey a very delicately veiled compliment, but this young woman's tone rather embarra.s.sed him. He saw in a moment that she was beyond the reach of the playful and ingenious banter which he had contrived to make the basis of their relations.

”Yes,” he said, ”I was looking at something else. I had other things to think about.”

”Well, she _did_ have a new bonnet, with yellow ribbons. She looked handsome. I hear she's going to get married soon.”

”I'm glad to hear it. She's none too young,” said Woodward.

At another time Sis would have laughed at the suggestion implied in this remark, but now she only tapped the floor gently with her foot, and looked serious.

”I hope you answered her note,” she said presently.

”What note?” he asked, with some astonishment,

Sis was the picture of innocence.

”Oh, I didn't think!” she exclaimed. ”I reckon it's a great _secret_. I mean the note she handed you when she came out of church. It's none of _my_ business.”

”Nor of mine either,” said Woodward, with a relieved air. ”The note was for Tip Watson.”

This statement, which was not only plausible but true, gave a new direction to Sis's anger.

”Well, I don't see how anybody that thinks anything of himself could be a mail-carrier for _Sue Fraley!_” she exclaimed scornfully; whereupon she flounced out, leaving Woodward in a state of bewilderment.

He had not made love to the girl, princ.i.p.ally because her moods were elusive and her methods unique. She was dangerously like other women of his acquaintance, and dangerously unlike them. The princ.i.p.al of the academy in Gullettsville--a scholarly old gentleman from Middle Georgia, who had been driven to teaching by dire necessity--had once loftily informed Woodward that Miss Poteet was superior to her books, and the young man had verified the statement to his own discomfiture.

She possessed that feminine gift which is of more importance to a woman in this world than scholarly acquirements--apt.i.tude. Even her frankness--perfectly discreet--charmed and puzzled Woodward; but the most attractive of her traits were such as mark the difference between the bird that sings in the tree and the bird that sings in the cage--delightful, but indescribable.

When Sis Poteet began to question him about Sue Fraley, the thought that she was moved by jealousy gave him a thrill that was new to his experience; but when she flounced angrily out of the room because he had confessed to carrying a note from Miss Fraley to Tip Watson, it occurred to him that he might be mistaken. Indeed, so cunning does masculine stupidity become when it is played upon by a woman, that he frightened himself with the suggestion that perhaps, after all, this perfectly original young lady was in love with Tip Watson.

During the rest of the day Woodward had ample time to nurse and develop his new theory, and the more he thought it over the more plausible it seemed to be. It was a great blow to his vanity; but the more uncomfortable it made him the more earnestly he clung to it.

Without appearing to avoid him, Sis managed to make the presence of Mrs. Parmalee and Mrs. Hightower an excuse for neglecting him. She entertained these worthy ladies with such eager hospitality that when they aroused themselves to the necessity of going home, they found to their dismay that it would be impossible, in the language of Mrs.

Poteet, to ”git half way acrost Pullium's Summit 'fore night 'ud ketch 'em.” Sis was so delighted, apparently, that she became almost hilarious; and her gaiety affected all around her except Woodward, who barely managed to conceal his disgust.

After supper, however, Mrs. Poteet and her two guests betook themselves to the kitchen, where they rubbed snuff and smoked their pipes, and gossiped, and related reminiscences of that good time which, with old people, is always in the past. Thus Woodward had ample opportunity to talk with Sis. He endeavoured, by the exercise of every art of manner and conversation of which he was master, to place their relations upon the old familiar footing, but he failed most signally. He found it impossible to fathom the gentle dignity with which he was constantly repulsed. In the midst of his perplexity, which would have been either pathetic or ridiculous if it had not been so artfully concealed, he managed for the first time to measure the depth of his love for this exasperating but charming creature whom he had been patronising. She was no longer amusing; and Woodward, with the savage inconsistency of a man moved by a genuine pa.s.sion, felt a tragic desire to humble himself before her.

”I'm going home to-morrow, Miss Sis,” he said finally, in sheer desperation.

”Well, you've had a heap of fun--I mean,” she added, ”that you have had a nice time.”