Continental Monthly, Vol. 4, No 3, September 1863

'Very well, thank you, Race.'

'Ain't you going to stop and see mother a minute?'

'I can't, to-day; I've got some sewing to do before dark.'

This was nothing but an excuse – I'll own it now; for I knew I could easily trim my hat next day; but I was so afraid that Race might ask me to go to the picnic with him, I felt in a hurry to get away; so I said good-by pretty quick and went on before Race had time to say anything more.

When I got home, the first thing I saw was a new clothes-basket standing on the ironing table; and Calanthy called to me from the hall, 'Run up stairs and take a rest, Dimpey, for I want you to go to the Hollow after tea, and see Widow Burt. I guess she's very sick, from what Jim says; and Polly Jane and you had better go and find out what help she needs.'

Now I had been thinking all the way from Preston, that Ned Hassel would certainly call in the evening, to ask me to the picnic, before the other boys got a chance. So I expect I answered a little cross, 'Dear me! Calanthy! 'way down there to-night; won't to-morrow be time enough?'

'Why, yes, dear,' said Calanthy, 'if you are too tired; but I was afraid the poor soul might be suffering, for Jim's nobody in sickness, you know; and I don't like to have Polly Jane go alone. Besides, there's such a big ironing to do to-morrow, I can't well spare you in the morning.'

Calanthy spoke so kind, I felt ashamed of my bad temper; so I answered, 'Very well, Calanthy, I'll go to-night; I'm not much tired.'

After tea Polly Jane and I set out; we had a little basket with camphor and mustard, and other useful things Calanthy had put up for Mrs. Burt: it is a beautiful walk through the Hollow, and I should have liked it very much if my head had not been so full of the picnic that I couldn't think of anything else. We didn't go through the village, but turned off the main road into a lane that cut off a part of the distance. I was a little ahead of Polly Jane, for she would carry the basket, and we had just got into the lane when she said to me, 'Look back, Dimpey; here comes one of your beaux!' I turned around, and saw Ned Hassel on one of his fast horses. He pulled up at the corner and called out – his voice was a little too loud and confident like, I must confess – 'Good evening, Polly Jane; good evening, Dimpey; are you going to take a walk in the woods, so near sundown?'

It provoked Polly, I suppose, to hear him speak so bold, for she answered, very short, 'No, we're going on an errand.'

He didn't seem to notice, but looked at me, and said, 'I was just on my way to your house, Dimpey, to ask your company to the picnic next week; I suppose Joe told you about it? We're going to set out early, and have a real good time; I mean to take my fast team and the light wagon, and we can get up the mountain before the others have fairly started.'

Polly Jane spoke up again – she never could bear the Hassels, and always said they were the greatest braggarts in our county: 'That would be great fun, for you and Dimpey to get ahead of all the company! I thought picnickers always kept together.'

Ned colored up and looked angry, but he only said, 'Will you engage to ride with me, Dimpey?'

If Polly Jane had not been there, I should have told Ned to ask father if I might go; but I couldn't bear to have her think I wanted Ned for a beau; so I answered, 'I don't know yet whether I can go or not; I'll see what our folks say.'

'Well, Dimpey, I'll come over to your house to-morrow night; I guess you'll go; good evening,' and away he galloped.

'Guess you'll go, indeed!' said Polly Jane, as soon as he was out of hearing. 'I guess she won't go with you, Mr. Impudence! You're not going to make a fool of our Dimpey, and break her neck besides, not if her father knows it, I can tell you.'

It isn't often that Polly Jane speaks out so spunky, but I expect she was vexed because he didn't answer her; as for me, I could have cried to think that things happened so, and I felt almost angry with poor Widow Burt for being sick, and taking me away from home that evening. It was awful wicked, but I was well punished for it afterward.

'It's too bad in you to talk so, Polly,' said I, 'as if I was a child six years old! I wonder why it's impudent in Ned to ask me to ride with him; you wouldn't say so if it was any one else; but you hate poor Ned – you know you do,' and here I broke down and really cried; but they were spiteful tears, after all.

'There, now, Dimpey,' said Polly Jane – she was over her pet in a minute – 'don't feel bad; I didn't mean to be cross to Ned; but he has such a bold way of talking, as if he thought nobody could refuse him, that he always makes me angry, and I can't help it. But you shall go to the picnic, dear, whether he takes you or not; there will be plenty glad to ask you; so kiss me, Dimpey, and I won't tease you again.'

I let her kiss me, and then walked on sullen enough till we came to Mrs. Burt's. The house was a forlorn old place, with only one room and a bedroom, and a garret next the roof, where Jim slept. The door of the living room opened out into a shed, where Mrs. Burt did her work in summer time. The trees grew close up to the shed, and the well was under it; and as we came up, who should I see but Race Miller, drawing a bucket of water to fill the teakettle, while Jim kindled a fire in the stove. There did seem to be no end of vexations that day, and I wished myself a hundred miles off.

'Why, Polly Jane! is that you? I didn't think of seeing you down here to-night – and Dimpey, too! We heard that Mrs. Burt was very sick, and mother had tea early, and we came over to see how the poor soul was.'

'Is your mother in the bedroom?' said Polly.

'Yes; we've fixed Mrs. Burt up in the rocking chair, and mother is making her bed. I want to get a cup of tea made for her as quick as I can, for she has a good deal of fever, and is thirsty all the time. Come, Jim! set on the kettle, and we'll have it boiling in no time.' And Race stooped down and blew the fire with his mouth till it blazed up nicely.

'I'll go help your mother, Race,' said Polly Jane. 'You sit down, and rest, Dimpey; you've had walking enough to-day;' and she went into the bedroom, and left me alone with Race. Jim didn't count for anybody.

Race stepped in the room, and brought out a chair; he put it just outside the shed door, and said:

'Sit down there, Dimpey, that's a nice cool place.' I sat down, and he took a seat in the doorway, close by me. 'Dimpey!' said he, 'if mother hadn't wanted me, I meant to go up to your house to ask you if you'd give me your company to the picnic on Spring Mountain. You know we talk of having one next Wednesday, don't you?'

'There!' thought I; 'what am I to do now? I daren't say I'm engaged, for fear father won't let me go with Ned Hassel; and besides, I didn't promise Ned; so it would be telling a lie.' Then I thought how pleasant it would be to ride with the fast horses, and – I may as well own it – to pass Abby Matilda on the road, and let her see I could do as I pleased, and that I wasn't a coward, I didn't speak for a minute, and then I said:

'I believe I'm engaged already!'

The words seemed to come out before I knew it. Race didn't speak, and I felt so guilty I never raised my eyes, but made believe I was sorting some wild flowers I'd picked in the Hollow. Jim came out just then with the teapot in his hand, and drawled out:

'That pesky kettle deont bile yet. 'Pears to me it's tarnal long abeout it; it ollers acts contrairy when mother's in a hurry for her tea!'

I couldn't help laughing, and as I raised my head, I caught Race looking at me as if he'd look me through and through. His eyes seemed twice as big as common! He got up, however, without saying anything, and went to making the tea, and at that minute Polly Jane came out of the bedroom, and told us Mrs. Miller thought that Widow Burt ought to be watched, and said she would stay all night if Polly would stay too. 'So,' said Polly, 'if Race will take you home, Dimpey, I'll watch with Mrs. Miller. Race spoke up quick, and said, 'Certainly; he'd see me home,' and it was growing so late I couldn't say anything against it. As soon as he found he could do no more to help them – (he is one of the handiest men about the house I ever saw, I must say that) – Polly said we'd better go, for Calanthy might feel uneasy. Before we started, she drew me to one side, and whispered:

'Dimpey! I wish you'd tell John Morgan how sorry I am to break my promise to walk with him to-night; but Mrs. Burt is very sick, and Mrs. Miller couldn't get along without me.'

I thought to myself – 'What a wicked little thing I am ever to get angry with Polly Jane, when she isn't a bit selfish, and always ready to do good. It's real hard to give up her walk, for John teaches three evenings in the week, and can't always get a chance to go with her!' So I spoke as pleasant as I could, and kissed her for good night, and then set out to walk home with Race Miller.

I have been through Rocky Hollow a great many times, but I shall never forget that walk! The evening was clear and bright, but it was pretty dark in among the willows. Race put out his hand once or twice to help me over a big stone or log, and said:

'Take care, Dimpey! don't go so fast, or you'll hurt your little feet against the stones.'

My feet are not so very little, but I expect he thought so because his own are so big. I suppose it was foolish, but he seemed such a stout, strong fellow, I felt as if he wanted to take me up, and carry me like a baby; but may be he never thought of such a thing.

When we got out in the road it looked quite light; there was a glow on the sky where the sun had gone down, and one bright star had come out just over Spring Mountain, and seemed as if it was keeping watch over the spring – I mean the spring on the top of the mountain that gives it its name. Everything was still, except the crickets that kept up a great singing among the trees. I always liked to be out in the starlight, and should have felt happy then, only things had gone crooked with me all day, and nothing seemed to please me. Uncle Ezra – he's our minister, and one of the best men that ever lived —he says it's always so when we haven't done right ourselves – and I really believe it is – for I remember how discontented I felt that night.

Presently Race spoke:

'See that star over the mountain, Dimpey! don't it look handsome up there all alone? By the by, who is going to wait on you to the picnic – you didn't say, did you?'

I was so vexed at the question, I'd a great mind to answer,'It's none of your business, Race Miller, who I go with,' but just then, I can't tell why, the thoughts I'd had in the morning out in the orchard all came back to me, and I remembered how Race had given up coming to ask me because his mother wanted him; and then I thought how good he was to his mother, and waited on her as if she was a pretty young girl. And what would my mother say, if she was living, to hear me speak so. Father always said she never gave any one a cross word in her life! I looked up at the star, and it appeared to me that mother might be up there watching me, and knowing all my thoughts; and instead of answering Race, I put down my head and burst out crying. I'd wanted to have a good hard cry all day, and now I would have given the world to stop, and I couldn't.

'Why, Dimpey!' said Race, 'what is the matter?'

I couldn't speak; we were passing a big maple tree, and I stopped and hid my face against it, so that Race couldn't see it. He let me cry a few minutes, and then took hold of my hand as gentle as a little child, and whispered, 'Don't cry, Dimpey! I can't bear it. I'm afraid I shall do something rash, if you don't stop soon!'

I didn't know what he meant by 'something rash,' but his voice sounded so earnest, it frightened me. I took my hand out of his, and wiped my eyes; and then I said, 'It's very shallow to cry when one's head aches; but I couldn't help it.'

'Does your head ache, Dimpey?' said Race; 'oh, how sorry I am I haven't my wagon here. I'm afraid you can't walk home.'

Now, my head did ache; but it was because I had been crying; but you see, if one leaves the truth ever so little, how deceitful one has to be to keep it up. I felt real mean when Race showed so much concern about me, and told him I could walk very well.

'Won't you take my arm?' said he; 'that will help you.'

I couldn't refuse, though I was dreadfully afraid we might meet somebody. We walked on in silence for a while, and I could feel Race's heart beat against my hand that lay on his arm, for he held me close to his side, as if I was in danger of falling. Presently he said:

'I only asked who you were going with, Dimpey, because I wanted you to have a good time; if I can't have your company, I don't care to go; but I hoped you would enjoy yourself.'

Race spoke so honest it made me feel ashamed of my ugly spirit, and I answered:

'Edward Hassel asked me to go with him; but father's got a notion he drives too fast, and perhaps he won't let me ride with him.'