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Page 44
In spite of her unconscious rebuff to his own vanity, Hemmingway
felt a sense of relief and less constraint in his relations to this
decidedly provincial hostess.
"Can I help you in any way?" he asked eagerly.
"Well, ye MIGHT bring me an armful o' wood from the pile under the
alders, ef ye ain't afraid o' dirtyin' your coat," she said
tentatively.
Mr. Hemmingway was not afraid; he declared himself delighted. He
brought a generous armful of small cut willow boughs, and deposited
them before a small stove, which seemed a temporary substitute for
the usual large adobe chimney that generally occupied the entire
gable of a miner's cabin. An elbow and short length of stovepipe
carried the smoke through the cabin side. But he also noticed that
his fair companion had used the interval to put on a pair of white
cuffs and a collar. However, she brushed the green moss from his
sleeve with some toweling, and although this operation brought her
so near to him that her breath--as soft and warm as the southwest
trades--stirred his hair, it was evident that this contiguity was
only frontier familiarity, as far removed from conscious coquetry
as it was, perhaps, from educated delicacy.
"The boys gin'rally kem to take up enough wood for me to begin
with," she said, "but I reckon they didn't know I was comin' up so
soon."
Hemmingway's distrust returned a little at this obvious suggestion
that he was only a substitute for their general gallantry, but he
smiled and said somewhat bluntly, "I don't suppose you lack for
admirers here."
The girl, however, took him literally. "Lordy, no! Me and Mamie
Robinson are the only girls for fifteen miles along the creek.
ADMIRIN'! I call it jest PESTERIN' sometimes! I reckon I'll hev
to keep a dog!"
Hemmingway shivered. Yes, she was not only conscious, but spoilt
already. He pictured to himself the uncouth gallantries of the
settlement, the provincial badinage, the feeble rivalries of the
young men whom he had seen at the general store. Undoubtedly this
was what she was expecting in HIM!
"Well," she said, turning from the fire she had kindled, "while I'm
settin' the table, tell me what's a-doin' in Sacramento! I reckon
you've got heaps of lady friends thar,--I'm told there's lots of
fashions just from the States."
"I'm afraid I don't know enough of them to interest you," he said
dryly.
"Go on and talk," she replied. "Why, when Tom Flynn kem back from
Sacramento, and he warn't thar more nor a week, he jest slung yarns
about his doin's thar to last the hull rainy season."
Half amused and half annoyed, Hemmingway seated himself on the
little platform beside the open door, and began a conscientious
description of the progress of Sacramento, its new buildings,
hotels, and theatres, as it had struck him on his last visit. For
a while he was somewhat entertained by the girl's vivacity and
eager questioning, but presently it began to pall. He continued,
however, with a grim sense of duty, and partly as a reason for
watching her in her household duties. Certainly she was graceful!
Her tall, lithe, but beautifully moulded figure, even in its
characteristic southwestern indolence, fell into poses as
picturesque as they were unconscious. She lifted the big molasses-
can from its shelf on the rafters with the attitude of a Greek
water-bearer. She upheaved the heavy flour-sack to the same secure
shelf with the upraised palms of an Egyptian caryatid. Suddenly
she interrupted Hemmingway's perfunctory talk with a hearty laugh.
He started, looked up from his seat on the platform, and saw that
she was standing over him and regarding him with a kind of
mischievous pity.
"Look here," she said, "I reckon that'll do! You kin pull up
short! I kin see what's the matter with you; you're jest plumb
tired, tuckered out, and want to turn in! So jest you sit that
quiet until I get supper ready and never mind me." In vain
Hemmingway protested, with a rising color. The girl only shook her
head. "Don't tell me! You ain't keering to talk, and you're only
playin' Sacramento statistics on me," she retorted, with unfeigned
cheerfulness. "Anyhow, here's the wimmen comin', and supper is
ready."
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