Part 16 (1/2)

Tessie stiffened. Her teeth were set, her eyes sparkled. She tossed her head. ”Well, I'm sure, Mr. Mory, it's good enough for me. Too bad you had to come home at all now you're so elegant and swell, and everything. You better go call on Angie Hatton instead of wasting time on me. She'd probably be tickled to see you.”

He stumbled to his feet, then, awkwardly. ”Aw, say, Tessie, I didn't mean--why, say--you don't suppose--why, believe me, I pretty near busted out cryin' when I saw the Junction eatin' house when my train came in. And I been thinking of you every minute. There wasn't a day----”

”Tell that to your swell New York friends. I may be a hick but I ain't a fool.” She was near to tears.

”Why, say, Tess, listen! Listen! If you knew--if you knew--A guy's got to--he's got no right to----”

And presently Tessie was mollified, but only on the surface. She smiled and glanced and teased and sparkled. And beneath was terror.

He talked differently. He walked differently. It wasn't his clothes or the army. It was something else--an ease of manner, a new leisureliness of glance, an air. Once Tessie had gone to Milwaukee over Labor Day. It was the extent of her experience as a traveler.

She remembered how superior she had felt for at least two days after.

But Chuck! California! New York! It wasn't the distance that terrified her. It was his new knowledge, the broadening of his vision, though she did not know it and certainly could not have put it into words.

They went walking down by the river to Oneida Springs, and drank some of the sulphur water that tasted like rotten eggs. Tessie drank it with little shrieks and shudders and puckered her face up into an expression indicative of extreme disgust.

”It's good for you,” Chuck said, and drank three cups of it, manfully.

”That taste is the mineral qualities the water contains--sulphur and iron and so forth.”

”I don't care,” snapped Tessie irritably. ”I hate it!” They had often walked along the river and tasted of the spring water, but Chuck had never before waxed scientific. They took a boat at Baumann's boathouse and drifted down the lovely Fox River.

”Want to row?” Chuck asked. ”I'll get an extra pair of oars if you do.”

”I don't know how. Besides, it's too much work. I guess I'll let you do it.”

Chuck was fitting his oars in the oarlocks. She stood on the landing looking down at him. His hat was off. His hair seemed blonder than ever against the rich tan of his face. His neck muscles swelled a little as he bent. Tessie felt a great longing to bury her face in the warm red skin. He straightened with a sigh and smiled at her. ”I'll be ready in a minute.” He took off his coat and turned his khaki s.h.i.+rt in at the throat, so that you saw the white line of his untanned chest in strange contrast to his sun-burned throat. A feeling of giddy faintness surged over Tessie. She stepped blindly into the boat and would have fallen if Chuck's hard, firm grip had not steadied her.

”Whoa, there! Don't you know how to step into a boat? There. Walk along the middle.”

She sat down and smiled up at him. ”I don't know how I come to do that. I never did before.”

Chuck braced his feet, rolled up his sleeves, and took an oar in each brown hand, bending rhythmically to his task. He looked about him, then at the girl, and drew a deep breath, feathering his oars. ”I guess I must have dreamed about this more'n a million times.”

”Have you, Chuck?”

They drifted on in silence. ”Say, Tess, you ought to learn to row.

It's good exercise. Those girls in California and New York, they play tennis and row and swim as good as the boys. Honest, some of 'em are wonders!”

”Oh, I'm sick of your swell New York friends! Can't you talk about something else?”

He saw that he had blundered without in the least understanding how or why. ”All right. What'll we talk about?” In itself a fatal admission.

”About--you.” Tessie made it a caress.

”Me? Nothin' to tell about me. I just been drillin' and studyin' and marchin' and readin' some---- Oh, say, what d'you think?”

”What?”

”They been learnin' us--teachin' us, I mean--French. It's the darnedest language! Bread is pain. Can you beat that? If you want to ask for a piece of bread, you say like this: DONNAY MA UN MORSO DOO PANG. See?”

”My!” breathed Tessie.