Mississippi River Valley -- Fiction; Short stories; Western stories
The next day was very warm, and when Claude drove up under the shade of
the big maples he was ready for a chat while his horses rested, but
'Cindy was nowhere to be seen. Mrs. Kennedy came out to get the amount
of the skimming, and started to reënter the house without talk.
"Where's the young folks?" asked Claude, carelessly.
"If you mean Lucindy, she's in the house."
"Ain't sick or nothin', is she?"
"Not that anybody knows of. Don't expect her to be here to gass with you
every time, do ye?"
"Well, I wouldn't mind," replied Claude. He was too keen not to see his
chance. "In fact, I'd like to have her with me all the time, Mrs.
Kennedy," he said, with engaging frankness.
"Well, you can't have her," the mother replied ungraciously.
"What's the matter with me?"
"Oh, I like you well enough, but 'Cindy'd be a big fool to marry a man
without a roof to cover his head."
"That's where you take your inning, sure," Claude replied. "I'm not much
better than a hired hand. Well, now, see here, I'm going to make a
strike one of these days, and then--look out for me! You don't know but
what I've invested in a gold mine. I may be a Dutch lord in disguise.
Better not be brash."
Mrs. Kennedy's sourness could not stand against such sweetness and
drollery. She smiled in wry fashion. "You'd better be moving, or you'll
be late."
"Sure enough. If I only had you for a mother-in-law--that's why I'm so
poor. Nobody to keep me moving. If I had some one to do the talking for
me, I'd work." He grinned broadly and drove out.
His irritation led him to say some things to Nina which he would not
have thought of saying the day before. She had been working in the
field, and had dropped her hoe to see him.
"Say, Nina, I wouldn't work outdoors such a day as this if I was you.
I'd tell the old man to go to thunder, and I'd go in and wash up and
look decent. Yankee women don't do that kind of work, and your old dad's
rich; no use of your sweatin' around a corn-field with a hoe in your
hands. I don't like to see a woman goin' round without stockin's, and
her hands all chapped and calloused. It ain't accordin' to Hoyle. No,
sir! I wouldn't stand it. I'd serve an injunction on the old man right
now."
A dull, slow flush crept into the girl's face and she put one hand over
the other as they rested on the fence. One looked so much less monstrous
than two.
Claude went on, "Yes, sir! I'd brace up and go to Yankee meeting instead
of Dutch; you'd pick up a Yankee beau like as not."
He gathered his cream while she stood silently by, and when he looked at
her again she was in deep thought.
"Good-day," he said cheerily.
"Good-by," she replied, and her face flushed again.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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