 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 Tempted and the Penitent "In pleasing visions and assuasive dreams, O, sooth my soul, and teach me how to loose thee." -- Johnson Both Stanley and Ned would enter Columbia College in September, and both were much interested in athletics. After breakfast the next morning, the weather being cool and the sky somewhat cloudy, they donned the white, sleeveless and almost legless garments known as "running togs" and a pair of rubber shoes, and using one of the recently mown fields for a track, ran around and around its border at a steady, long-distance gait. As they rested on a log beneath some cherry trees that grew at the south end of the field, Jerry Pike came along, and the sight of their bare limbs gave him considerable shock. "I've a couple of extra pairs of overalls that you might have instead of coming out in them underclothes," said Jerry, seriously. "Thank you, Jerry," said Stanley, laughing, "it is not your clothes, but some of your splendid muscle that we need." "Let's feel your biceps," said Ned, getting up and examining the farmer's arm. "Hard as steel! Bet you could drive a golf ball from here to Poland Springs." Jerry passed on, and having secured a couple of hockey sticks and a ball, Stanley and Ned were soon gyrating over the extensive field, sending swift shots and making skillful stops like experienced men at bandy. As the dinner hour approached, they repaired to the house, and after cooling shower baths, dressed in conventional style. Ned made a most careful toilet, and appeared in pale grey trousers and coat, a white silk shirt, a lavender tie, lavender silk socks and white shoes. He was less talkative at table than usual, and when dinner was over and they had stepped out on to the piazza, said soberly to Stanley, "Can I go and see our girl without you?" "If you refer to Miss Pansy Bradford, you can drop the possessive case," answered Stanley, stiffly. "I do refer to Miss Pansy Bradford, and I want to know if I may call on her unaccompanied by your excellent self." Stanley looked somewhat puzzled, but replied, "If my company inconveniences you, I shall certainly not press it upon you, though I partially promised Pansy to call this afternoon. Rifle and I will go for an airing around Norway Lake." "Do," said Ned, "and leave me a clear field for the afternoon." Ned procured a Panama hat that sat jauntily on his profuse, dark locks, and left the house. Stanley watched him wending his way northward through the avenue of maples, then ordered his horse and rode away. When he and Ned met at supper that night, not a word was mentioned of the mysterious call, and even after they had gone out on to the piazza, they avoided the subject. Finally Stanley went to his room, and Ned soon followed him. "Don't you want to hear about my call, Stanley?" he asked. "Certainly I do," replied Stanley with warmth. "What happened?" "I'm the happiest man inside or outside of Baltimore," announced Ned. "I have redeemed myself, though it took considerable effort." "Go on," said Stanley, after a somewhat long pause. "I went up to the house and knocked on that confounded door with its weather beaten paint, and nobody answered, so I snoozed around a bit, and finally discovered the little lady sitting under a big willow tree, wooing a chipmunk with tid bits and chatter that was a language all its own. I walked over real circumspect and said, 'Good afternoon, Miss Pansy.' She said, 'Good afternoon,' but didn't look a bit pleased to see me, so I tucked myself under the stone wall and waited. Finally she asked, 'Where is Stanley?' I said, 'Home when I left, but probably on Rifle's back by this time.' She said, 'That's strange! Whey didn't he come with you?' I said, 'Just a queer streak.' She gave me one look, and resumed her occupation of currying the grass with her finger tips. "After a while she said, 'Mother and Ruth have gone to see Louisa Bright, Richard and Uncle Will are working down in the heater piece and I am here to mind the house.' I said, 'I could have carried your house off for all the minding it is concerned.' She said, 'You would look well with our house on your back; it would nearly place you in the Atlas class.' I said, 'It would not nearly, but altogether place me in the Atlas class if you were inside of it, for the world would then be there for a few people.' She said, 'You help me to understand what is meant by the expression 'queer world'.' I said, 'I'm glad if I help you to anything. Would you be so good as to help me to understand why any one writes such trash as this? Listen.' I pulled out a book of college poems, and read her the sweetest thing ever written by a student. 'I think that's beautiful,' she said, when I had finished. I read another, and she thawed some more. I read a third, and she came and curled up beside me and purred like a kitten. "Then we talked about all the books we had ever read, and by Jove, that girl has some literature in her head. All the time the sun was getting lower. If I had been old Joshua I would have made it stand still for at least twenty-four hours, but I wasn't, so when it got quite low, she said she would have to go in and get supper, but if I would wait, she would go a piece with me. I said I would, and so long as she liked the doggerel she might keep the book. She said, 'Do you mean to give it to me?' I said I did, and she looked real pleased, and said I must write her name in it. When we got into the house, she brought pen and ink, and there you will find written therein on the fly leaf, 'Edward van Bibber Patterson to Pansy Bradford.' "After that I helped her spread the cloth and put those old crockery dishes around -- gold studded with rubies wouldn't be good enough for her -- and then she got the junket on, and we put the fly screens around -- they are made of black wire like a cock hat without a rim -- and then, with a hop, skip and jump we were off, but I didn't let her keep up that pace, for I wasn't anxious for that walk to end. When we got to the top of the hill, she said she never went any farther than that with you. I said, 'I am going away tomorrow, Pansy, and I hope you will sometimes think kindly of me.' She said, 'I shall think of you very often, Ned,' and then she added half shyly, turning away from me, 'When you came this afternoon without Stanley I felt afraid, but I shall never feel that way toward you again.' Then we shook hands sort of loosely and warmly, and she went back home and I came down here." "Was that all she said?" asked Stanley, after a pause. "You are very inquisitive, Stanley, but if you must know, she did say I was to tell you they would all be waiting in front of the house for you at eight o'clock tonight." "It's that time now," said Stanley, looking at his watch. "Before you came, I used to play for them sometimes in the evening on my cornet, and that is what she means. Here, Ned, you select some music -- it's in the cabinet there; -- they like the old tunes best -- and I'll get the infant ready." Stanley was all alert now much like his father when there was anything to do. He threw open the north window in his room, placed the music rack in front of it, lit a lamp and adjusted the shade, and then brought out his silver cornet. "Here's the music, Stanley," said Ned. "I'm going down to talk to your father. When you are through, do you think we could have a game of billiards?" he asked wistfully. "I've been so good all the afternoon I need diversion." "Why, yes," answered Stanley. "They all go to bed up there at nine o'clock." Click Here for Chapter 17 |