Part 27 (1/2)
”'Give that,' my friend says, 'with my good wishes an' a touch o' my regrets, to the young lady on Twenty-two, with the compliments o'
Sergeant Brook,' he-says,” and so Jake placed the little golden trinket in Jean's hands. . . . . It was a difficult situation. Jean's first impulse was to hand it back.
”Better accept it,” I whispered to her. ”The fewer explanations the better.”
”But it--it's a wedding present,” she remonstrated. ”How can I . . . ?”
”Keep it until you need it,” I suggested. Jean was very lovely in the heightened color of her embarra.s.sment, and as her hand fell by my side I seized it surrept.i.tiously in my own.
”Oh, Jean, why not make it to-night?” I whispered, mad with her beauty and her nearness.
”It's quite impossible,” she answered, but she did not immediately withdraw her hand. She left me marvelling more and more over the tantalizing complexity of her att.i.tude toward me.
Fortunately, the interest of those about us had been quickly rearrested by Jake. ”Havin' a little weakness o' my own,” Jake was continuing, ”although I never said nothin' about it, not wis.h.i.+ng to take advantage o' my young friend, Sittin' Crow, or to start a scene with Bella Donna, I bought its mate fer the lady on Fourteen.” And with this little speech he placed another pendant in the hands of Marjorie.
”When I came to Canada to farm,” said Spoof, after the excitement over Jake's gift had died down, ”I came equipped for everything but farming.
I could have started a second-hand store, a curiosity shop, an a.r.s.enal, or a music hall much better than I could start a farm. In fact, I feel like all of these things, except, perhaps, the music hall, when I look around my shack. Particularly well was I equipped against savages, grizzly bears, and mountain lions. I remember the days I spent in picking out my rifles, weighing the qualities of this arm and that, and the penetrating power of the different bullets. My biggest game so far has been a badger, _alias_ a chinook, whose hide now adorns the den of my immediate and admiring ancestor. Out of the abundance of my defences I now bring to you, John Lane, this piece of artillery, with the injunction that it must never be pointed toward section Two, and, preferably, not at anything else. Hang it over your portal, as evidence that you can be a desperate man upon occasion, and let it go at that. I have been thoughtful enough not to bring any ammunition.” Spoof then produced, out of the bedroom where Brown, acting as his agent, had secretly cached it, a repeating rifle, which Jack handled with as much admiration as Marjorie spent on her pendant, and then placed it lovingly away.
”Now, I believe that's all,” said Spoof.
”Not yet,” Reddy interrupted. ”I want to be in on this, although I didn't come prepared.” He had written something in a note-book, which he now tore out and handed to Jack. It was a receipt for the price of his wedding ring. Jack protested, but Reddy would have it no other way.
The only one not represented by a presentation was the minister, but he proved equal to the occasion.
”My children,” he said,--he was not much older than Jack or I, perhaps about the age of Spoof--”I am not a man of the world, and consequently cannot give you of the good things which the world provides. The theory that a minister should lay up his treasure in Heaven is taken rather literally in these times. I am not quarreling with that. Materialism is the murderous outlaw of the age, an enemy that goes bullying through the land, outraging our finer natures, overturning our ideals, polluting our ambitions. I hope I am not envious of his followers. And to you, and all of you, I give something that money could not buy--my blessing, with a promise of my ministrations, without charge, on those future occasions upon which it may be a.s.sumed you will be in need of them.”
The minister had escaped from a somewhat embarra.s.sing position with the dignity that became his calling, and with a gentle joke that showed how very human he was at heart.
”Clear out the pork and the seed wheat,” Spoof ordered, as there seemed likely to be a lull in the night's enjoyment. ”Ole, it is fortunate that Mrs. Burke persuaded you not to bring in your load of hay.”
So the floor was cleared. The door, when opened, revealed a wedge of snow-storm whistling by, but inside the wintry weather was forgotten and the tremor of our shanty's timbers pa.s.sed unnoticed. Reddy had mounted himself on our own table--the big one had been taken out, in pieces--and was twisting the strings of a violin to tune. Presently his bow cut loose a drone of dancing rhythm, and feet began to tap the plain pine boards of the floor.
”Pardners all!” Jake commanded. It was evident he was to be master of ceremonies; he had just taken a great chew of tobacco to promote the flow of language. The insistent note of the violin brought Jack and me, with Marjorie and Jean, Mr. and Mrs. Burke, and Mr. and Mrs. Brown, to the centre of the room. The dancing would be of the ”square-dance”
variety which was no novelty to us or to the Burkes, and which the others would soon pick up under the guidance of Professer Jake.
”S'lute yer pardner! . . . Pa.s.s 'er by. . . Balance to the next.” And we were off. Jake and the fiddler warmed up with the dancers, and presently the shanty was rocking with the stamp and the swing of it. Those were not the days of dancing that is little more than a walk; one danced with all his heart and body, and was not afraid to shake the floors and ceilings.
The end of the set found us perspiring and happy.
And so the evening wore on. Ole and Olga joined the dancers in the third set, and thereafter never left the floor; Andy Smith ventured into Marjorie's arms, and in five minutes was feeling younger than in the days of his apprentices.h.i.+p on the Clyde; Spoof danced with Jean as much as seemed necessary. When Spoof was not monopolizing her, Burke or Brown or Smith was. But at length she spurned us all in order that she might win Mr. Sneezit to the floor. The Russian hesitated, fearing to appear foolish, but he would have been more or less than human if he could have resisted Jean's enticements, and presently she was leading him through the simple movements of a cotillion.
Then it was that the minister distinguished himself. He had kept aloof from the dancing, but now, seeing Mrs. Sneezit being left somewhat out of the party, his Christianity overcame his creed and, sweeping down upon her, he seized her in his strong arms and had her upon her feet before she knew it. Her protestations were of no avail; she must dance with him and dance she did. The music and the kindness and the humanity of it all seemed to penetrate her stolid heart, and Mrs. Sneezit--she of the brood with the peering eyes and the wistful, hungry mouths--was won by the magic of fiddle and foot back into the gay days of girlhood and danced as though the world were hers.
At length they went. The flurries of snow had driven by; the moon poured its silver radiance on a world of downy ivory, and the bigger stars blinked stolidly from a steel-blue heaven as our guests bundled themselves into jumpers and sleighs and took their departure. Their cries of good wishes and good luck were wafted back to us above the crunching of the snow. We watched them until they faded out of sight in the white moonlight.
Soon after Jack and Marjorie and Jean crossed the snow-filled valley to their over-crowded house, and left me to one that was over-empty. For a long time I stood looking into the stove, with lid and lifter in my hand, in the act of putting on more wood. The glow of the coals went grey as I watched, and, for the first time in my life, I measured the depth to which the plummet of loneliness can plunge. . . .
CHAPTER XIX.