David Dunne Part 16

"'T ain't no use, David," she sighed. "No one wants a plain critter like me."

"Lots of them don't marry for looks," argued David sagely. "Besides, you look fine in your black silk, and your hair crimped. Joe thinks your picture is great. He's got it on a shelf over his fireplace at the ranch."

"Most likely some cowboy'll see it and lose his heart," laughed Miss Rhody, "but thar, the weddin' dress is all done. You go home and quit thinkin' about gittin' me a man. I ain't ha'nted by the thought of endin' single."

Great preparations for the wedding progressed at the Brumble farm. For a week Pennyroyal whipped up eggs and sugar, and David ransacked the woods for evergreens and berries with which to decorate the big barn, where the dance after the wedding was to take place.

The old farmhouse was filled to overflowing on the night of the wedding. After the ceremony, Miss Rhody, resplendent in the black silk and waving hair loosed from the crimping pins that had confined it for two days and nights, came up to David.

"My, David, I've got the funniest all over feelin' from seein' Mart and M'ri merried! I was orful afeerd I'd cry."

"Sit down, Miss Rhody," said David, gallantly bringing her a chair.

"Didn't M'ri look perf.e.c.kly beyewtiful?" she continued, after accomplis.h.i.+ng the pirouette that prevented creases. "And Mart, he looked that proud, and solemn too. It made me think of that gal when she spoke 'Curfew shall not ring tewnight' at the schoolhouse. Every one looks fine. I hain't seen Barnabas so fussed up sence Libby Sukes'

funyral. It makes him look real spry. And whoever got Larimer Sa.s.ser to perk up and put on a starched s.h.i.+rt!"

"I think," confided David, "that Penny got after him. She had him in a corner when he came, and she tied his necktie so tight I was afraid she would choke him."

"Look at old Miss Pankey, David. She, as rich as they make 'em, and a-wearin' that old silk! It looks as ef it hed bin hung up fer you and Jud to shoot at. Ain't she a-glarin' and a-sniffin' at me, though?

Say, David, you write Joe that if M'ri did look the purtiest of any one that my dress cost more'n any one's here, and showed it, too. I hope thar'll be a lot of occasions to wear it to this summer. M'ri is a-goin' to give a reception when she gits back from her tower, and that'll be one thing to wear it at. Ain't Jud got a mean look? He's as crooked as a dog's hind leg. But, say, David, that's a fine suit you're a-wearin'. You look handsome. Thar ain't a stingy hair on Barnabas' head. He's doin' jest as good by you as he is by Jud. Don't little Janey look like an angel in white, and them lovely beads Joe give her? I can't think of nothin' else but that little Eva you read me about. I shouldn't wonder a bit, David, if I come to yer and Janey's weddin' yet!" she said, as Janey came dancing up to them.

A slow flush mounted to his forehead, but Janey laughed merrily.

"I've promised Joe I'd wait for him," she said roguishly.

"She's only foolin' and so wuz he," quickly spoke Miss Rhody, seeing the hurt look in David's eyes. "Barnabas," she asked, stopping him as he pa.s.sed, "you air a-goin' to miss M'ri turrible. You could never manige if it wa'n't fer Penny. Won't she hev the time of her life cleanin' up after this weddin'? She'll enjoy it more'n she did gettin'

ready fer it."

"I hope Penny won't go to gittin' merried--not till Janey's growed up."

"David's a great help to you, too, Barnabas."

"Dave! I don't know how I ever got along afore he came. He's so willin' and so honest. He's as good as gold. Only fault he's got is a quick temper. He's doin' purty fair with it, though. If only Jud--"

He stopped, with a sigh, and Rhody hastened to change the subject.

"You're a-lookin' spry to-night, Barnabas. I hain't seen you look so spruce in a long time."

"You look mighty tasty yerself, Rhody."

This interchange of compliments was interrupted by the announcement of supper.

"I never set down to sech a repast," thought Miss Rhody. "I'm glad I didn't feed much to-day. I don't know whether to take chickin twice, or to try all them meltin', flaky lookin' pies. And jest see them layer cakes!"

After supper adjournment was made to the barn, where the fiddles were already swinging madly. Every one caught the spirit, and even Miss Rhody finally succ.u.mbed to Barnabas' insistence. Pennyroyal captured Uncle Larimy, and when Janey whirled away in the arms of a schoolmate, David, who had never learned to dance, stood isolated. He felt lonely and depressed, and recalled the expression in which Joe Forbes had explained life after he had acquired a stepmother. "I was always on the edge of the fireside," he had said.

"Dave," expostulated Uncle Barnabas, as soon as he could get his breath after the last dance, "you'd better eddicate yer heels as well as yer head. It's unnateral fer a colt and a boy not to kick up their heels. You don't never want to be a looker-on at nuthin' excep' from ch'ice. You'd orter be a stand-in on everything that's a-goin' instead of a stand-by. The stand-bys never git nowhar."

PART TWO

CHAPTER I

David Dunne at eighteen was graduated from the high school in Lafferton after five colorless years in which study and farm work alternated. Throughout this period he had continued to incur the rancor of Jud, whose youthful sc.r.a.pes had gradually developed into brawls and carousals. The Judge periodically extricated him from serious entanglements, and Barnabas continued optimistic in his expectations of a time when Jud should "settle." On one occasion Jud sneeringly accused David of "working the old man for a share in the farm," and taunted him with the fact that he was big enough and strong enough to hustle for himself without living on charity. David started on a tramp through the woods to face the old issue and decide his fate. He had then one more year before he could finish school and carry out a long-cherished dream of college.

He was at a loss to know just where to turn at the present time for a home where he could work for his board and attend school. The Judge and M'ri had gone abroad; Joe was on his ranch; the farmers needed no additional help.

He had been walking swiftly in unison with his thoughts, and when he came out of the woods into the open he was only a mile downstream from town. Upon the river bank stood Uncle Larimy, skillfully swirling his line.

"Wanter try yer luck, Dave?"

"I have no luck just now, Uncle Larimy," replied the boy sadly.

Uncle Larimy shot him a quick, sidelong glance.

"Then move on, Dave, and chase arter it. Thar's allers luck somewhar.

Jest like fis.h.i.+n'. You can't set in one spot and wait for luck tew come to you like old Zeke Foss does. You must keep a-castin'."

"I don't know where to cast, Uncle Larimy."

Uncle Larimy pondered. He knew that Jud was home, and he divined David's trend of thought.

"You can't stick to a plank allers, Dave, ef you wanter amount tew anything. Strike out bold, and swim without any life presarvers. You might jest as well be a sleepy old cat in a corner as to go smoothsailin' through life."

"I feel that I have got to strike out, and at once, Uncle Larimy, but I don't just know where to strike."

"Wal, Dave, it's what we've all got to find out fer ourselves. It's a leap in the dark like, and ef you don't land nowhere, take another leap, and keep a-goin' somewhar."

David wended his way homeward, pondering over Uncle Larimy's philosophy. When he went with Barnabas to do the milking that night he broached the subject of leaving the farm.

"I know how Jud feels about my being here, Uncle Barnabas."

"What did he say to you?" asked the old man anxiously.

"Nothing. I overheard a part of your conversation. He is right. And if I stay here, he will run away to sea. He told the fellows in Lafferton he would."

"You are going to stay, Dave."

"You won't like to think you drove your son away. If he gets into trouble, both you and I will feel we are to blame."

"Dave, I see why the Jedge hez got it all cut out fer you to be a lawyer. You've got the argyin' habit strong. But you can't argue me into what I see is wrong. This is the place fer you to be, and Jud 'll hev to come outen his spell."

"Then let me go away until he does. You must give him every chance."

"Where'll you go?" asked Barnabas curiously.