The Land of Strong Men Part 50

"But the garden needs hoeing."

"The bally thing always needs hoeing," Chetwood commented with deep resentment. "It has an insatiable desire to be tickled with a hoe. What a world it would be if weeds would die as easily as plants, and plants thrive as carelessly as weeds. Bright thought, what?"

"Nonsense!" said Miss Jean.

"Oh, I say! It's really profound."

"It's profoundly silly. You had better stick to the hoe."

"My back is broken."

"Well," Miss Jean relented, "you may help me if you like."

On either side of tall vines trained on brush they began to pick the big, fat Telephones. Now and then, in the tangle of the vines, their fingers touched, as both reached for the same pod.

"This beats hoeing," Chetwood announced.

"I'm afraid you're lazy."

"I am. I always was. But to help a girl, especially a pret--"

"If you are going to be silly I shall go to the other end of the row."

"'O stay,' the young man said, 'and rest thy weary head up--'"

Miss Jean promptly picked up the pan and marched to the other end of the row. Chetwood followed her.

"They _are_ better here," he said. "It's a genuine pleasure to pick such peas together." Miss Jean did not reply. "Don't you like to pick peas with me?"

"When you talk sensibly I don't object. There, the pan's full. Thanks very much."

"And now we'll sh.e.l.l them."

"I'll take them to the house to sh.e.l.l."

"Please don't. Here is shade, running water, the company of an industrious young man. You can't overlook a combination like that--if you have a heart."

"It _is_ nice shade," Miss Jean admitted.

They sat in it, the pan piled with peas between them, and began to sh.e.l.l. Miss Jean's hand diving for a pea, encountered Chetwood's and was held fast.

"Mr. Chetwood!"

Without relinquishing his prize that gentleman set the pan aside and with considerable agility seated himself beside Miss Jean.

"My full name is Eustace William Fitzroy Chetwood. I prefer the second.

William is a respectable name. Do you know what it means?"

"I didn't know it meant anything."

"Oh, yes; it means 'Bill.' I answer beautifully to 'Bill.'"

"Will--"

"'Bill'!"

"Will you please let go my hand?"

"'What we have we hold' is a good motto. It seems a sound system to hold what I have."

Miss Jean sighed. "Then of course I can't sh.e.l.l peas, and you won't have any for supper."

"Hang supper! Jean, darling, how long are you going to keep me in suspense?"

"I'm not keeping you at all; and you mustn't call me 'darling.'"

"Are you going to keep me waiting seven years, as Rebecca kept Joseph?"

"It wasn't Rebecca or Joseph."

"Well, it doesn't matter; I had the waiting part of it right. I can feel the strain telling on me, and when I look into your eyes--like this--"

Here Miss Jean shut her eyes. Chetwood being human did the natural thing. Miss Jean wrenched her hand away and rubbed her cheek.

"How dare you!" she demanded with really first-cla.s.s indignation.

"I don't know; but like Warren Hastings, I am astonished at my own moderation. I should have kissed you before. And I am going to kiss you again."

Though the prospect did not seem to dismay Miss Jean, she removed herself swiftly to a distance of several feet, and further consolidated her position by placing the pan of peas between them.

"Sh.e.l.l peas--Eustace!" she said. Chetwood ground a set of perfect teeth.

"You want to drive me crazy, I see that," he said. "You're too dangerous to be running around loose. You need a firm hand--like mine. Now--"

What followed was very bad for the peas. Some minutes later Miss Jean, raising hands to a flushed face and sadly tilted hat, regarded them in dismay.

"Now see what you've done!"

Chetwood grinned. "Will you carry sweet peas?" he asked. "If we are married early in September--"

"September!" Miss Jean gasped. "I couldn't think of such a thing, Bil--ly!"

"You can when you get used to it," Chetwood a.s.sured her. "Like getting into hot water, you know."

"It may be a good deal like it," Miss Jean observed reflectively.

"Eh! Oh, I didn't mean that."