The Little Red FootChambers, Robert W. (Robert William)
History
The Little Red Foot
Chambers, Robert W. (Robert William)
New York (State) -- History -- Revolution, 1775-1783 -- Fiction
"La, sir! I am a maid, also."
"And enjoy it?"
"Yes, sir.... Do not you?"
"What?"
"Do not you enjoy admiration? Is admiration displeasing to young men?"
"Well--no," I admitted. "Only it is well to be armed with
experience--hum-hum!--and discretion when one encounters the flattery of
admiration."
"Yes, sir.... Are you so armed, Mr. Drogue?"
At a loss to answer, her question being unexpected--as were many of her
questions--and answers also--I finally admitted that flattery was a
subtle foe and that perhaps experience had not wholly armed me against
that persuasive enemy.
"Nor me," said she, with serene candour. "And I fear that I lack as much
in knowledge and experience as I do in years, Mr. Drogue. For I think no
evil, nor perhaps even recognize it when I meet it, deeming the world
kind, and all folk unwilling to do me a wrong."
"I--kissed you."
"Was that a wrong you did me?"
"Have not others kissed you?" said I, turning red and feeling mean.
But she laughed outright, telling me that it concerned herself and not
me what she chose to let her lips endure. And I saw she was a very
child, all unaccustomed, yet shyly charmed by flatteries, and already
vaguely aware that men found her attractive, and that she also was not
disinclined toward men, nor averse to their admiration.
"How many write you verses?" I asked uneasily.
"Gentlemen are prone to verses. Is it unbecoming of me to encourage them
to verse?"
"Why, no...."
"Did you think the verses fine you heard in the orchard?"
"Oh, yes," said I, carelessly, "but smacking strong of Major André's
verses to his several Sacharissas."
"Oh. I thought them fine."
"And all men think you fine, I fear--from that soldier who pricked your
name on his powder-horn at Mayfield fort to Bully Jock Gallopaway of the
Border Horse at Caughnawaga, and our own little Jack-boots in the
orchard yonder."
"Only Jack Drogue dissents," she murmured, bending over her knitting.
At that I caught her white hand and kissed it; and she blushed and sat
smiling in absent fashion at the water, while I retained it.
"You use me sans façon," she murmured at last. "Do you use other women
so?"
Now, I had used some few maids as wilfully, but none worse, yet had no
mind to admit it, nor yet to lie.
"You ask me questions," said I, "but answer none o' mine."
At that her gay smile broke again. "What a very boy," quoth she, "to be
Laird o' Northesk! For it is cat's-cradle talk between us two, and give
and take to no advancement. Will you tell me, my lord, if it gives you
pleasure to touch my lips?"
"Yes," said I. "Does it please you, too?"
"I wonder," says she, and was laughing again out of half-shy eyes at me.
But, ere I could speak again, comes an express a-galloping; and we saw
him dismount at the mainland gate and come swiftly across the orchard.
"My orders," said I, and went to the edge of the veranda.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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