Dorian Part 14

"I'm not afraid of the dark. I'm afraid of--Oh, Dorian, don't let him hurt me!" There was a sob in her voice.

"What are you talking about? I believe you're not well. Are your feet wet? Have you a fever?" He put his hand on her forehead, brushing back the dark, towsled hair. He took her plump, work-roughened hand in his bigger and equally rough one. "And this is why you were not to my party," he said.

"Yes; I hated to miss it, but father's rheumatism was so bad that he could not come out. So it was up to me. We haven't any too much water this summer. I'd better turn the water down another row; it's flooding the corn."

They went to the lantern on the ditch bank. Dorian picked up the hoe and made the proper adjustment of the water flow. "How long will it take for the water to reach the bottom of the row?" he asked.

"About fifteen minutes."

"And how many rows remain?"

Carlia counted. "Twelve," she said.

"All right. This is a small stream and will only allow for three rows at a time. Three into twelve is four, and four times fifteen is sixty. It is now half past ten. We'll get through by twelve o'clock easy."

"You'd better go home. I'm all right now. I'm not afraid."

"I said we will get home. Sit down here on the bank. Are you cold?"

He took off his coat and placed it about her shoulders. She made no objections, though in truth she was not cold.

"Tell me about the party," she said.

He told her who were there, and how they had missed her.

"And did Uncle Zed preach?"

"Preach? O, yes, he talked mighty fine. I wish I could tell you what he said."

"What was it about?"

"About G.o.d," he answered reverently.

"Try to tell me, Dorian. I need to know. I'm such a dunce."

Dorian repeated in his way Uncle Zed's argument, and he succeeded fairly well in his presentation of the subject. The still night under the shining stars added an impressive setting to the telling, and the girl close by his side drank in hungrily every word. When the water reached the end of the rows, it was turned into others, until all were irrigated. When that was accomplished, Dorian's watch showed half past eleven. He picked up the lantern and the hoe, and they walked back to the house.

"The party was quite complete, after all," he said at the door. "I've enjoyed this little after-affair as much as I did the party."

"I'm glad," she whispered.

"And it was wonderfully good of you to give me that present."

"I'm glad," she repeated.

"Do you know what I was thinking about when I opened the book and saw it was from you?"

"No; what?"

"Why, I thought, we'll read this book together, you and I."

"Wouldn't that be fine!"

"We can't do that now, of course; but after a while when we get more time. I'll not read it until then.... Well, you're tired. Go to bed.

Good night, Carlia."

"Goodnight, Dorian, and thank you for helping me."

They stood close together, she on the step above him. The lamp, placed on the kitchen table for her use, threw its light against the gla.s.s door which formed a background for the girl's roughened hair, soiled and sweat-stained face, and red, smiling lips.

"Goodnight," he said again; and then he leaned forward and kissed her.

CHAPTER TEN.

That goodnight's kiss should have brought Dorian back to Carlia sooner than it did; but it was nearly a month before he saw her again. The fact that it was the busiest time of the year was surely no adequate excuse for this neglect. Harvest was on again, and the dry-farm called for much of his attention. Dorian prospered, and he had no time to devote to the girls, so he thought, and so he said, when occasion demanded expression.

One evening while driving through the city and seeing the lights of the moving picture theatre, he was reminded of his promise to Carlia. His conscience p.r.i.c.ked him just a little, so the very next evening he drove up to Farmer Duke's. Seeing no one choring about, he went into the house and inquired after Carlia. Mrs. Duke told him that Carlia had gone to the city that afternoon. She was expected back any minute, but one could never tell, lately, when she would get home. Since this Mr. Lamont had taken her to the city a number of times, she had been late in getting home.

"Mr. Lamont?" he inquired.

"Yes; haven't you met him? Don't you know him?"

"No; who is he?"

"Dorian, I don't know. Father seems to think he's all right, but I don't like him. Oh, Dorian, why don't you come around oftener?"

Mrs. Duke sank into a chair and wiped away the tears from her eyes with the corner of her ap.r.o.n. Dorian experienced a strange sinking of the heart. Again he asked who this Mr. Lamont was.

"He's a salesman of some kind, so he says. He drives about in one of those automobiles. Surely, you have seen him--a fine-looking fellow with nice manners and all that, but--"

"And does Carlia go out with him?"

"He has taken her out riding a number of times. He meets her in the city sometimes. I don't know what to make of it, Dorian. I'm afraid."

Dorian seemed unable to say anything which would calm the mother's fears. That Carlia should be keeping company with someone other than himself, had never occurred to him. And yet, why not? she was aid enough to accept attention from young men. He had certainly neglected her, as the mother had implied. The girl had such few opportunities for going out, why should she not accept such as came to her. But this stranger, this outsider! Dorian soon took his departure.

He went home, unhitched, and put up his horse; but instead of going into the house, he walked down to the post office. He found nothing in his box. He felt better in the open, so he continued to walk. He had told his mother he was going to the city, so he might as well walk that way.

Soon the lights gleamed through the coming darkness. He went on with his confused thoughts, on into the city and to the moving picture show. He bought a ticket and an attendant led him stumbling in the dark room to a seat.

It was the first time he had been there. He and Carlia were going together. It was quite wonderful to the young man to see the actors moving about lifelike on the white screen. The story contained a number of love-making scenes, which, had they been enacted in real life, in public as this was, they would certainly have been stopped by the police. Then there was a comic picture wherein a young fellow was playing pranks on an old man. The presentation could hardly be said to teach respect for old age, but the audience laughed uproariously at it.

When the picture closed and the lights went on, Dorian turned about to leave, and there stood Carlia. A young man was a.s.sisting her into her light wraps. She saw him, so there was no escape, and they spoke to each other. Carlia introduced her escort, Mr. Lamont.

"Glad to know you," said Mr. Lamont, in a hearty way. "I've known of you through Miss Duke. Going home now?"

"Yes," said Dorian.