But if childhood does not forget,it seldom broods and is not above being diverted.And the two surveyors--of whose heroic advent in a raft John Milton had only heard that morning with their traveled ways,their strange instruments and stranger talk,captured his fancy.Kept in the background by his sisters when visitors came,as an unpresentable feature in the household,he however managed to linger near the strangers when,in company with Euphemia and Clementina,after breakfast they strolled beneath the sparkling sunlight in the rude garden inclosure along the sloping banks of the creek.It was with the average brother's supreme contempt that he listened to his sisters'"practicin'"upon the goodness of these superior beings;it was with an exceptional pity that he regarded the evident admiration of the strangers in return.He felt that in the case of Euphemia,who sometimes evinced a laudable curiosity in his pleasures,and a flattering ignorance of his reading,this might be pardonable;but what any one could find in the useless statuesque Clementina passed his comprehension.Could they not see at once that she was "just that kind of person"who would lie abed in the morning,pretending she was sick,in order to make Phemie do the housework,and make him,John Milton,clean her boots and fetch things for her?Was it not perfectly plain to them that her present sickening politeness was solely with a view to extract from them caramels,rock-candy,and gum drops,which she would meanly keep herself,and perhaps some "buggy-riding"later?Alas,John Milton,it was not!For standing there with her tall,perfectly-proportioned figure outlined against a willow,an elastic branch of which she had drawn down by one curved arm above her head,and on which she leaned--as everybody leaned against something in Sidon--the two young men saw only a straying goddess in a glorified rosebud print.Whether the clearly-cut profile presented to Rice,or the full face that captivated Grant,each suggested possibilities of position,pride,poetry,and passion that astonished while it fascinated them.By one of those instincts known only to the freemasonry of the ***,Euphemia lent herself to this advertisement of her sister's charms by subtle comparison with her own prettinesses,and thus combined against their common enemy,man.
"Clementina certainly is perfect,to keep her supremacy over that pretty little sister,"thought Rice.
"What a fascinating little creature to hold her own against that tall,handsome girl,"thought Grant.
"They're takin'stock o'them two fellers so as to gabble about 'em when their backs is turned,"said John Milton gloomily to himself,with a dismal premonition of the prolonged tea-table gossip he would be obliged to listen to later.
"We were very fortunate to make a landing at all last night,"said Rice,looking down upon the still swollen current,and then raising his eyes to Clementina."Still more fortunate to make it where we did.I suppose it must have been the singing that lured us on to the bank,--as,you know,the sirens used to lure people,--only with less disastrous consequences."John Milton here detected three glaring errors;first,it was NOTClementina who had sung;secondly,he knew that neither of his sisters had ever read anything about sirens,but he had;thirdly,that the young surveyor was glaringly ignorant of local phenomena and should be corrected.
"It's nothin'but the current,"he said,with that feverish youthful haste that betrays a fatal experience of impending interruption.
"It's always leavin'drift and rubbish from everywhere here.There ain't anythin'that's chucked into the creek above that ain't bound to fetch up on this bank.Why,there was two sheep and a dead hoss here long afore YOU thought of coming!"He did not understand why this should provoke the laughter that it did,and to prove that he had no ulterior meaning,added with pointed politeness,"So IT ISN'TYOUR FAULT,you know--YOU couldn't help it;"supplementing this with the distinct courtesy,"otherwise you wouldn't have come.""But it would seem that your visitors are not all as accidental as your brother would imply,and one,at least,seems to have been expected last evening.You remember you thought we were a Mr.
Parmlee,"said Mr.Rice looking at Clementina.
It would be strange indeed,he thought,if the beautiful girl were not surrounded by admirers.But without a trace of self-consciousness,or any change in her reposeful face,she indicated her sister with a slight gesture,and said:"One of Phemie's friends.He gave her the accordion.She's very popular.""And I suppose YOU are very hard to please?"he said with a tentative smile.
She looked at him with her large,clear eyes,and that absence of coquetry or changed expression in her beautiful face which might have stood for indifference or dignity as she said:"I don't know.
I am waiting to see."
But here Miss Phemie broke in saucily with the assertion that Mr.
Parmlee might not have a railroad in his pocket,but that at least he didn't have to wait for the Flood to call on young ladies,nor did he usually come in pairs,for all the world as if he had been let out of Noah's Ark,but on horseback and like a Christian by the front door.All this provokingly and bewitchingly delivered,however,and with a simulated exaggeration that was incited apparently more by Mr.Lawrence Grant's evident enjoyment of it,than by any desire to defend the absent Parmlee.
"But where is the front door?"asked Grant laughingly.
The young girl pointed to a narrow zigzag path that ran up the bank beside the house until it stopped at a small picketed gate on the level of the road and store.
"But I should think it would be easier to have a door and private passage through the store,"said Grant.