 A Real New England Girl by Anna I. Parsons 1. The Shower 2. Oxford County 3. The Stranger and the Girl 4. The Youth and the Girl 5. Pansy and Richard Go Trading 6. The Marvelous Storyteller 7. The Dinner 8. The The Minister Comes for Tea 9. Pansy's Father 10. Pansy and Her Mother 11. Poland Springs 12. The Birthday Cake 13. Ned Patterson Comes for a Visit 14. The Blue Berrying Party 15. The Beginning of Wisdom 16. The Tempted and the Penitent 17. The Concert 18. Stanley's Ride 19. The Bench by the Wayside 20. The Banker and the Widow 21. The Bag of Nuts 22. How They Kept Thanksgiving at Little Farm 23. Hardly a Merry Christimas 24. A Call Down and a Caller 25. The Pride of Mrs. Bradford 26. A Happy New Year 27. Amusement and Winter Sport 28. Kim 29. Richard, the Lion Hearted 30. A Tour of the White Mountains 31. Talking Over the Trip with Henry Bright 32. Thoughts That Lie Too Deep for Words 33. Economics 34. His Toast 35. The Busy Haunts of Man 36. Christmas in New York 37. The Last Night of Their Visit 38. The Language Understood by All 39. Sugaring Off 40. Correspondence 41. Commencement 42. Conclusion Afterward     |
The Beginning of Wisdom "The sound of a kiss is not so loud as that of a cannon, but its echo lasts a great deal longer." -- Holmes The next forenoon while Mrs. Bradford and Pansy were engaged in canning blue berries for winter use, Stanley and Ned drove their horses near to the kitchen window, and inquired after the welfare of the family. "We're all as blue as berries can make us," said Pansy cheerfully, appearing at the window with a large cooking spoon in her hand that dripped with purple juice. "Thought you might be," said Stanley, regarding her with a smile. "If you are equal to more exercise this evening, won't you and Richard come down for a game of tennis with Ned and me?" "We'll be glad to, Stanley, if mother is willing, and if we come, we'll be there early, so as to help Ned earn a good night's sleep." With a roguish glance at the latter, she withdrew from the window, and returned to her work of filling the jars with steaming hot berries. The kitchen seemed turned into a veritable canning factory that day, and when Pansy set the last jar on the swing shelf in the cellar, and counted them once more to be sure she had not made a mistake, a sense of weariness stole over her, though she rejoiced in the richness of their winter stores. Bathing and putting on clean clothing refreshed her, and when, after supper, she and Richard received permission to spend the evening with Stanley, she seemed her own animated self again. After playing a few sets of tennis rather laxly, for she was really too tired to participate in such strenuous exercise, Pansy seated herself in the lawn swing, and while the young men played hand ball, watched the August moon rise large and round, throwing Singepole Mountain and Number Four Hill into bold relief, and making discernible many objects on the highlands and in the plains. If you have never spent an evening in the vicinity of the Little Androscoggin when the moon is full, you can have no conception of the magic spell its silver light throws upon you. Pansy who was usually alert and more disposed to actualities than dreaming, was content to sit awhile apart and revel in fancy. In a short time Ned came strolling over, and leaving over the back of the swing, sang softly: You are so sweet to see; Oh, little girl, oh, little girl! You are so dear to me. Pansy arose and stepped from the swing with eyes large and merry and bright. "I passed the age of cradle songs long ago, and I am going over to where Mr. Winthrop is sitting under the elm trees, for he gives me credit for being something more than an infant." "I was detailed to escort you to that very spot, but when I saw you sitting here so pensive in the moonlight it made me forget my errand." Mr. and Mrs. Winthrop, Julia, and a young lady friend had come out on the spacious lawn, and a man servant and maid were passing ices and fruit lemonade. Pansy and Richard seated themselves on either side of Mr. Winthrop on a green bench under one of the great elms that had been growing ever since the first Winthrop took title to the land in the days of the Province grants. Though somewhat austere and always speaking in crisp, businesslike tones, he had won the friendship of Pansy and Richard, first, because he was Stanley's father, and, next, because of his interest in them. He was not a sentimentalist, but more than anything else they brought to mind his boyhood days, when he had led the same free life they were leading now, and when he had dreamed dreams of prosperity that had come true far beyond his expectations, and of something else that had not come true, but had had much to do with the shaping of his destiny. An unusually hearty laugh from him that sounded pleasantly on the ear, made the others stop conversing for a moment and look toward the bench. "Could you bring me down a dried apple pie?" they heard him ask Pansy, and she had replied, "Why, yes, I'll have mother make you one when she bakes again on Saturday." When Pansy and Richard rose to leave, Stanley asked Julia and the young lady visitor if they would not like to take a walk in the moonlight, and seemed much disappointed to receive the curt reply from Julia, "No, thank you, Stanley, we are very comfortable here." Ned who was sitting with them excused himself, and soon the four were on their way to the Bradford home, Stanley and Richard walking ahead in mock military style, and Ned and Pansy following more leisurely behind. As they reached the top of the hill, Mrs. Bradford and Ruth could be dimly seen standing near where the roadway passed their home. "There's mother and Ruth waiting for us," said Pansy. "Can't your mother trust you?" asked Ned. "Yes, she trusts us," replied Pansy, "but if we don't come on time she thinks something is going to happen to us." "Something is going to happen to you," said Ned, placing his arm around her waist and with his hand under her chin drawing her sweet little mouth so that it was very near his own. She did not struggle or raise her voice, but spoke with much dignity: "Mr. Patterson, Stanley would never put his finger on me, and unless you can behave in the same manner, we can't even be friends." "You are colder than those ice caves in Greenwood," he said, but slowly released her, and they walked along in silence. When they reached the door, Ned, truly penitent for having assumed too much, held out his hand to Pansy and said low and entreatingly, "Call me Ned once more, and I'll never be so fresh again," but Pansy backed off a few steps, and, without answering him, slipped into the house. Stanley waiting at a little distance, noticed Pansy's unusual demeanor and wondered how the chivalrous Ned could have offended her. He was soon enlightened, for they had gone but a short distance on the return trip when Ned came, and throwing his arm across Stanley's shoulder said, "That girl's a trump, a genuine queen of diamonds, and she's your loyal little friend. On the way up I got fresh and tried to kiss her, and she promptly told me that you would never put your finger on her, and that unless I could behave in the same manner we couldn't even be friends." "Never do that again, Ned!" said Stanley, drawing himself up haughtily. "She's used to going around unchaperoned, but that doesn't mean license, and you ought to know it!" "I know I've learned a lesson I'll not soon forget," said Ned quietly. "You can read the propriety act if you want to, but you can't make me feel any more humiliated than I do now." Stanley relaxed, and throwing his arm across Ned's shoulder, they walked back over the avenue of maples, whistling a familiar tune. Click Here for Chapter 16 |