PAGE 4
The Reformation Of James Reddy
by
The rage and shame that filled his breast choked even the bitter laugh that first rose to his lips. If he could have turned on his heel and left her with marked indignation, he would have done so, but they were scarcely half way across the field; his stumbling retreat would have only appeared ridiculous, and he was by no means sure that she would not have looked upon it as merely a confession of his inability to keep up with her. And yet there was something peculiarly fascinating and tantalizing in the situation. She did not see the sardonic glitter in his eye as he said brutally:–
“Ha! and that would give me the exquisite pleasure of being near you.”
She seemed a little confused, even under her enwrappings, and in stepping down her foot slipped. Reddy instantly scrambled up to her and caught her as she was pitching forward into the furrow. Yet in the struggle to keep his own foothold he was aware that she was assisting him, and although he had passed his arm around her waist, as if for her better security, it was only through HER firm grasp of his wrists that he regained his own footing. The “cloud” had fallen back from her head and shoulders, her heavy hair had brushed his cheek and left its faint odor in his nostrils; the rounded outline of her figure had been slightly drawn against his own. His mean resentment wavered; her proposition, which at first seemed only insulting, now took a vague form of satisfaction; his ironical suggestion seemed a natural expression. “Well, I say ‘yes’ then,” he said, with an affected laugh. “That is, if you think I can manage to do the work; it is not exactly in my line, you know.” Yet he somehow felt that his laugh was feeble and unconvincing.
“Oh, it’s easy enough,” said the girl quietly. “You’ve only got to be clean–and that’s in your line, I should say.”
“And if I thought it would please you,” he added, with another attempt at gallantry.
She did not reply, but moved steadily on, he fancied a little more rapidly. They were nearing the house; he felt he was losing time and opportunity. The uneven nature of the ground kept him from walking immediately beside her, unless he held her hand or arm. Yet an odd timidity was overtaking him. Surely this was the same girl whose consciousness and susceptibility were so apparent a moment ago; yet her speech had been inconsistent, unsympathetic, and coldly practical. “It’s very kind of you,” he began again, scrambling up one side of the furrow as she descended on the other, “to–to–take such an interest in–in a stranger, and I wish you knew how” (she had mounted the ridge again, and stood balancing herself as if waiting for him to finish his sentence) “how–how deeply–I–I”–She dropped quickly down again with the same movement of uneasy consciousness, and he left the sentence unfinished. The house was now only a few yards away; he hurried forward, but she reached the wooden platform and stoop upon it first. He, however, at the same moment caught her hand.
“I want to thank you,” he said, “and say good-night.”
“Good-night.” Her voice was indistinct again, and she was trembling. Emboldened and reckless, he sprang upon the platform, and encircling her with one arm, with his other hand he unloosed the woolen cloud around her head and bared her faintly flushed cheek and half-open, hurriedly breathing lips. But the next moment she threw her head back with a single powerful movement, and, as it seemed to him, with scarcely an effort cast him off with both hands, and sent him toppling from the platform to the ground. He scrambled quickly to his feet again, flushed, angry, and–frightened! Perhaps she would call her father; he would be insulted, or worse,–laughed at! He had lost even this pitiful chance of bettering his condition. But he was as relieved as he was surprised to see that she was standing quietly on the edge of the platform, apparently waiting for him to rise. Her face was still uncovered, still slightly flushed, but bearing no trace of either insult or anger. When he stood erect again, she looked at him gravely and drew the woolen cloud over her head, as she said calmly, “Then I’ll tell pa you’ll take the place, and I reckon you’ll begin to-morrow morning.”