for the last two weeks I've seen 'em walkin' together in the lane that leads to Sol's.This here ain't goin' to keep up one day mo'; that's what I put my foot down on yestiddy.I'd stop it if Ididn't have nothin' agin that gal but the colour of her hair.Idon' know how 'tis, suh, but I've always had the feelin' that thar's somethin' indecent about yaller hair, an' if I'd been born with it I'd have stuck my head into a bowl of pitch befo' I'd have gone flauntin' those corn-tassels in the eyes of every man Imet.Thar's nothin' in the looks of me that's goin' to make a man regret he's got a wife if I can help it; an' mark my word, Mr.
Fletcher, if they had dyed Molly Peterkin's hair black she might have been a self-respectin' woman an' a hater of men this very day.A light character an' a light head go precious well together, an' when you set one a good sober colour the other's pretty apt to follow."Fletcher rose from his chair and stood gripping the table hard.
"Have you any reason to think--does it look likely--that young Blake has had a hand in this?" he asked.
"Who? Mr.Christopher? Why, I don't believe he could tell a petticoat from a pair of breeches to save his soul.He ain't got no fancy for corn-tassels and blue ribbons, I kin tell you that.
It's good honest women that are the mothers of families that he takes to, an' even then it ain't no mo' than 'How are you, Mrs.
Spade? A fine mornin'!'"
"Well, thar's one thing you may be sartain of," returned Fletcher, breaking in upon her, "and that is that this whole business is as good as settled.I leave here with the boy to-morrow morning at sunrise, and he doesn't set foot agin in this county until he's gone straight through the university.I'll drag him clean across the broad ocean before he shall do it."Then, as Mrs.Spade took a noisy departure, he stood, without listening to her, gazing morosely down upon the pattern of the carpet.
CHAPTER V.The Happiness of Tucker Early in the following November, Jim Weatherby, returning from the cross-roads one rainy afternoon, brought Christopher a long, wailing letter from Will.
"Oh, I've had to walk a chalk-line, sure enough," he wrote, "since that awful day we left home in a pouring rain, with grandpa wearing a whole thunderstorm on his forehead.It has been cram, cram, cram ever since, I can tell you, and here I am now, just started at the university, with my head still buzzing with the noise of those confounded ancients.If grandpa hadn't gone when he did, I declare I believe he would have ended by driving me clean crazy.Since he left I've had time to take a look about me, and I find there's a good deal of fun to be got here, after all.How I'll manage to mix it in with Greek I don't see, but luck's with me, you know--I've found that out--so I shan't bother.
"By the way, I wish you would make Molly Peterkin understand how it was I came away so hastily.Tell her I haven't forgotten her, and give her the little turquoise pin I'm sending.It just matches her eyes.Be sure to let me know if she's as pretty as ever."By the next mail the turquoise brooch arrived, and Christopher, putting it in his pocket, went over to Sol Peterkin's to bear the message to the girl.As it happened, she was swinging on the little sagging gate when he came up the lane, and at sight of him her eyebrows shot up under her flaxen curls, which hung low upon her forehead.She was a pretty, soulless little animal, coloured like peach-blossoms, and with a great deal of that soft insipidity which is usually found in a boy's ideal of maiden innocence.
"Why, I couldn't believe my eyes when I first saw you," she said, arranging her curls over her left shoulder with a conscious simper.
The old Blake gallantry rose to meet her challenging eyes, and he regarded her smilingly a moment before he answered.
"Well, I could hardly believe mine, you know," he responded carelessly."I thought for an instant that a big butterfly had alighted on the gate."She pouted prettily.
"Won't you come in?" she asked after a moment, with an embarrassed air, as she remembered that he was one of the "real Blakes" for whom her father used to work.
A light retort was on his lips, but while he looked at her a little weary frown darkened her shallow eyes, and with the peculiar sympathy for all those oppressed by man or nature which was but one expression of his many-sided temperament he quickly changed the tone of his reply.At the instant it seemed to him that Molly Peterkin and himself stood together defrauded of their rightful heritage of life; and as his thought broadened he felt suddenly the pathos of her forlorn little figure, of her foolish blue eyes, of her trivial vanities, of her girlish beauty, soiled and worn by common handling.A look very like compassion was in his face, and the girl, seeing it, reddened angrily and kicked at a loose pebble in the path.When he went away a moment later he left a careless message for Sol about the tobacco crop, and the little white box containing the turquoise brooch was still in his pocket.
That afternoon the trinket went back to Will with a curt letter.
