Westerfelt Part 34

The bolt was turned, the door shutter creaked and moved a few inches.

A hand came in sight, and something wrapped in brown paper was tossed into the centre of the room. Then the steps receded, and they heard the widow resume her chair.

Peter rose curiously and picked up the parcel, and bringing it to the fire opened it. Its contents were a pair of woollen socks and a pair of stockings of the same material. On the first had been worked a big red letter "P" and on the other a capital "C."

"Did you ever?" gasped Mrs. Slogan. "I don't believe she's a bit more crazy 'n I am."

"I never 'lowed she wus," said Peter, with a laugh. "I jest thought she mought be harder to manage 'an you, that's all."

"Sister's gone an' had a change o' heart!" declared Mrs. Slogan, ignoring his joke. "Nothin' else could a-made 'er come back an' give us these things. I heerd they had a big revival over thar. Oh, Lordy, I do feel so relieved!"

"Well, I reckon we mought as well go in an' pay 'er our respects an'

git started," grumbled Peter. "I'm not a-goin' to tote 'er meals about, I'll tell you that. Slavery day is over."

"No, we'll jest let 'er alone," Mrs. Slogan beamed; "she'll know we mean all right by the supper, an' I reckon she'll move up 'er cheer in the mornin'; ef she don't, I'll blow the field-horn."

Peter lighted another pipe. "I wonder," said he, "how long it'll be 'fore you an' her 'll be clawin' agin. Religion ur no religion, crazy ur no crazy, women is jest the same."

Chapter XXII

When Westerfelt went to bed that night after his talk with Mrs. Bradley about the conversion of Mrs. Dawson, it was with a certain lightness of heart and buoyancy of spirits that he had not experienced for a long time. He did not know exactly how his new feeling would show itself in regard to Harriet, but he believed he might, in time, cease to look upon her love for Wambush as such an unpardonable offence. "Surely,"

he argued, "if Mrs. Dawson can forgive me for all I have done, I ought to pardon the girl I love for what she did before she knew me."

These were admirable intentions, but he was counting on a depth of nature that was not his either by inheritance or cultivation. The inflammable material was still bound up in his breast, and it needed but one spark to fire it. What he was struggling against had come down to him from a long line of ancestors, men who would rather have died than brook the thought of a rival, especially in an inferior; men who would have spurned the love of their hearts if it were stained with falsehood under any circ.u.mstances, and when, as it was in Westerfelt's case, the provocation was not only deceit, but ardent love for such a man--ah, there was the rub!

The next morning he watched Bates's office from the stable till he saw the lawyer come down the street and enter. He waited awhile longer, for he saw Bates go out to the wood-pile and return with an armful of wood. Presently blue smoke began to rise from the chimney, and Westerfelt went over and rapped on the door.

"Come in!" Bates called out. Westerfelt found him with his back to the door, sitting over the fire, a leather-bound tome in his lap.

"h.e.l.lo!" he cried, seeing who it was; "pull up a seat."

Westerfelt drew a rickety chair from beneath a dusty desk and sat down.

"Did you get home all right?" he asked.

"Yes." Bates closed his book, leaving his forefinger in it for a book-mark; he removed his foot from the side of the chimney and cleared his throat. "Miss Harriet asked me to fetch her home early; dang it!

I believe she would a-stayed longer, but she was sorry for me."

"Sorry for you--why?"

"Because she couldn't see it my way, I reckon."

"Did she--refuse you?"

Bates threw his book on a table. "Do I look like a man that's goin' to marry the prettiest and the best girl in the world? Westerfelt, I didn't sleep a wink last night."

"That's bad."

"Looky' heer, don't give me any shenanigan; you knowed what she'd do for me. You knowed mighty well."

"Me?"

"Yes, dad burn it; you know she loves you."

"What are you talking about?"

"If you don't know it you are a numskull. She intimated to me that she loved some feller, but that she never intended to marry anybody. I'm no fool. I know who she meant. Look here!" Bates suddenly rose to his feet. His face was both white and red in splotches. He grasped the back of his chair with both his hands and leaned on it. "I've heard o' your doings over the mountain. She hain't no kin to me, but I'll tell you one thing right now, Westerfelt, she's a good girl, an'

if you trifle with her feelings you'll have me to whip ur get a licking yorese'f. I'm talking straight now, man to man."

Westerfelt rose, and the two men stood side by side, each staring into the other's face.

"Don't be a fool," said Westerfelt, after a slight pause; "don't meddle with what don't concern you," and he turned and left the room. He had never allowed a man to threaten him in that sort of way, but he was in no frame of mind to quarrel. Besides, there was something in the lawyer's defence of Harriet that made him like the fellow.

He was about to cross the street to the stable when he saw Harriet come out of the hotel and trip along the sidewalk towards the store. She wore no hat or bonnet, but held a handkerchief over her head to protect her face from the sun. He was sure she saw him, but she did not show any sign of recognition. He kept on his way, but when she had disappeared in the store he hesitated, then stopped, recrossed the street, and turned into the store after her. She was standing on the grocery side, tapping the counter with a coin. Martin Worthy was behind the counter, weighing a package of soda for her. She flushed red and then paled a little as Westerfelt entered and held out his hand.

"It's a pretty day," he said. "I'd like to take you to drive after dinner, if you will go with me. I hated like smoke to miss that ride yesterday."

She shook hands with him and then turned to Worthy, who was tying the package with a piece of twine drawn from a ball in a holder at the ceiling. Westerfelt was afraid she was going to ignore his invitation wholly, but she looked round presently and smiled faintly.

"I shall be glad to go," she answered. "Any one else going?"

"No; that is, not that I know of."

She leaned over to give Worthy the money, and waited for the change without glancing again at Westerfelt.

She took her parcel and started to leave. "Then I shall come about two o'clock?" he said, going with her to the door.

She nodded. "Very well; I'll be ready," and he stood aside for her to pa.s.s.

She walked briskly back to the hotel and into the kitchen, where her mother was at work.

"Did you get it?" Mrs. Floyd asked.

"Yes, and there's the change." Harriet put down the package and dropped some pieces of silver into a goblet on the table.

"What's the matter?" Mrs. Floyd was kneading dough in a great wooden tray, and she looked at Harriet over her shoulder.

"Nothing."

"I know there _is_." Mrs. Floyd turned and began rubbing the dough from her fingers as a woman puts on a kid glove.

"Mr. Westerfelt has asked me to drive with him after dinner," said the girl. "That's all."

"Harriet!" Mrs. Floyd's eyes sparkled with excitement as she sprinkled some flour over her dough and began to roll the ma.s.s back and forth.

"I reckon you will acknowledge _now_ that I know something about young men. If you had refused to go with Bascom Bates yesterday, Mr.

Westerfelt would have had no respect for you; as it is, he couldn't wait twenty-four hours to see you. For all you do, don't let him see too plain that you care for him. Mind what I say!"