Part 7 (1/2)
”Yes,” cried the others; ”if you can't play fair, get out of the game.”
The order of events was immediately changed, but occasionally Sukey broke away from time-honored precedent and repeated her favors to Dic.
Doug was rapidly growing as ”sick” as his most inveterate enemy could have desired. There was another person in the room who was also very wretched--one whom Dic would not have pained for all the Sukey Potiphars in Egypt. The other person was not only pained, she was grieved, confused, frightened, desperate. She feared that she would cry out and ask Dic not to favor Sukey. She did not know what to do, nor what she might be led to do, if matters continued on their present course.
Soon after Tom's reprimand, Sukey found the duty of dropping the handkerchief again devolving upon her pretty self. She longed with all her heart to drop it behind Dic; but, fearing the wrath of her friends, she concluded to choose the man least apt to arouse antagonism in Dic's breast. She would choose one whom he knew she despised, and would trust to luck and her swift little feet to take her around the circle before the dropee could catch her.
Wetmore had been an active member, though a pa.s.sive partic.i.p.ant, in the game, since its beginning. When a young lady ”It” walked back of him, he would eagerly watch her approach, and when she pa.s.sed him, as all did, he would turn his face after her and hope for better things from the next. Repeated disappointments had lulled his vigil, and when Sukey, the girl of all others for whom he had not hoped, dropped the sacred linen behind his reverend form, he was so startled that he did not seize the precious moment. He was standing beside Doug Hill, and the handkerchief fell almost between the two. It was clearly intended for his reverence; but when he failed instantly to meet the requirements of the situation, the Douglas, most alert of men, resolved to appropriate the opportunity to himself. At the same moment Brother W. also determined to embrace it, and, if possible, ”It.” Each stooped at the same instant, and their heads collided.
”Let it alone, parson, it's for me,” cried the Douglas.
Parson did not answer, but reached out his hand for the coveted prize.
Thereupon Douglas pushed him backward, causing him to be seated with great violence upon the floor. At that unfortunate moment Sukey, who had taken speed from eagerness, completed her trip around the circle, and being unable to stop, fell headlong over the figure of the self-made parson. She had not seen Doug's part in the transaction, and being much disturbed in mind and dress, turned upon poor Wetmore and flung at the worthy shepherd the opprobrious words, ”You fool.”
When we consider the b.u.t.tons in the offering, together with Sukey's unjust and biting words, we cannot help believing that Wetmore had been born under an unlucky star.
One's partner in this game was supposed to favor one now and then, when opportunity presented; but Wetmore's partner, Miss Tompkinson, having waited in vain for favors from that gentleman, quitted the game when Sukey called him, ”You fool.” Wetmore thought, of course, he also would be compelled to drop out; but, wonder of wonders, Rita, the most beautiful girl in the room, rose to her feet and said:--
”I'll take your place, Miss Tompkinson.” She knew that if she were in the game, Sukey's reign would end, and she had reached the point of perturbation where she was willing to do anything to prevent the recurrence of certain painful happenings. She knew that she should not take part in the game,--it was not for such as her,--but she was confused, desperate, and ”didn't care.” She modestly knew her own attractions. Every young man in the circle was a friend of Tom's, and had at some time manifested a desire to be a friend to Tom's sister. Tom was fairly popular for his own sake, but his exceeding radiance was borrowed. The game could not be very wicked, thought Rita, since it was encouraged by the church; but even if it were wicked, she determined to take possession of her own in the person of Dic. Out of these several impulses and against her will came the words, ”I'll take your place, Miss Tompkinson,” and almost before she was aware of what she had done she was standing with fiercely throbbing pulse, a member of the forbidden circle.
[Ill.u.s.tration: ”SHE FLUNG AT THE WORTHY SHEPHERD THE OPPROBRIOUS WORDS, 'YOU FOOL.'”]
As Rita had expected, the handkerchief soon fell behind her, and without the least trouble she caught the young fellow who had dropped it, for the man did not live who could run from her. The pledge, a pocket-knife, was deposited, and Rita became a trembling, terrified ”It.” What to do with the handkerchief she did not know, but she started desperately around the circle. After the fourth or fifth trip the players began to laugh. Dic's heart was doing a tremendous business, and he felt that life would be worthless if the handkerchief should fall from Rita's hand behind any one but him. Meanwhile the frightened girl walked round and round the circle, growing more confused with every trip.
”Drop it, Rita,” cried Doug Hill, ”or you'll drop.”
”She's getting tired,” said another.
”See how warm she is,” remarked gentle Tom.
”Somebody fan her,” whispered Sukey.
”I don't believe I want to play,” said Rita, whose cheeks were burning.
A chorus of protests came from all save Dic; so she took up her burden again and of course must drop it. After another long weary walk an inspiration came to her; she would drop the handkerchief behind Tom. She did so. Tom laughed, and all agreed with one accord that it was against the rules of the game to drop the handkerchief behind a brother or sister. Then Rita again took up her burden, which by that time was a heavy one indeed. She had always taken her burdens to Dic, so she took this one to him and dropped it.
”I knew she would,” screamed every one, and Rita started in dreadful earnest on her last fatal trip around the circle. A moment before the circle had been too small, but now it seemed interminable, and poor Rita found herself in Dic's strong arms before she was halfway home. She almost hated him for catching her. She did not take into consideration the facts that she had invited him and that it would have been ungallant had he permitted her to escape, but above all, she did not know the desire in his heart. She had surprised and disappointed him by entering the game; but since it was permitted, he would profit by the surprise and s.n.a.t.c.h a joyful moment from his disappointment. But another surprise awaited him. When a young lady was caught a certain degree of resistance, purely for form's sake, was expected, but usually the young lady would feel aggrieved, or would laugh at the young man were the resistance taken seriously. When Dic caught Rita there was one case, at least, where the resistance was frantically real. She covered her face with her hands and supposed he would make no effort to remove them. She was mistaken, he acted upon the accepted theories of the game. She was a baby in strength compared with Dic, and he easily held her hands while he bent her head backward till her upturned face was within easy reach.
”Don't kiss me,” she cried.
There was no sham in her words, and Dic, recognizing the fact, released her at once and she walked sullenly to a chair. According to the rude etiquette of the time, she had insulted him.
There had been so many upheavals in the game that the trouble between Dic and Rita brought it to a close.
Dic was wounded, and poor Rita felt that now she had driven him from her forever. Her eyes followed him about the room with wistful longing, and although they were eloquent enough to have told their piteous little story to one who knew anything about the language of great tender eyes, they spoke nothing but reproachfulness to Dic. He did not go near her, but after a time she went to him and said:--
”I believe I will go home; but I am not afraid to go alone, and you need not go with me--that is, if you don't want to.”
”I do want to go with you,” he responded. ”I would not let you ride by yourself. Even should nothing harm you, the howling of a wolf would frighten you almost to death.”