Invitations were just
issued for the harvest dance at Rickard's.
'You mus' take 'er,' said Uncle Eb, the day she came. 'She's a purty
dancer as a man ever see. Prance right up an' tell 'er she mus' go.
Don' want 'O let anyone git ahead O' ye.'
'Of course I will go,' she said in answer to my invitation, 'I
shouldn't think you were a beau worth having if you did not ask
me.'
The yellow moon was peering over Woody Ledge when we went
away that evening. I knew it was our last pleasure seeking in
Faraway, and the crickets in the stubble filled the silence with a
kind of mourning.
She looked so fine in her big hat and new gown with its many
dainty accessories of lace and ribbon, adjusted with so much
patting and pulling, that as she sat beside me, I hardly dared touch
her for fear of spoiling something. When she shivered a little and
said it was growing cool I put my arm about her, and, as I drew her
closer to my side, she turned her hat, obligingly, and said it was a
great nuisance.
I tried to kiss her then, but she put her hand over my mouth and
said, sweetly, that I would spoil everything if I did that.
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