Madelon | Page 8

take care of the horses, and shave, and get dressed, and then
drive another three miles for my girl. I'm going to take one of the
Morse girls, over at Summer Falls. I haven't got time to go down to the
Hautvilles', and that's the truth, Burr."
"You'll have to go yourself, Burr," said Daniel Plympton, with a
half-laugh.
"I can't," said Burr, "and I won't, if we give the ball up."
"What will all the out-of-town folks say?"
"I don't care what they say--they can play forfeits."
"Forfeits!" returned Daniel Plympton with scorn. "What's kissing to
dancing?" Daniel Plympton was somewhat stout but curiously light of
foot, and accounted the best dancer in town. As he spoke he sprang up
on his toes as if he had winged heels. "Forfeits!" repeated he, jerking
his great flaxen head.
"Well, you can go yourself, then, and ask Madelon Hautville to lilt,"
said Burr.
"I tell you I can't, Burr--I ain't mean enough."
"Well, I won't, and that's flat."
"I've got to go home, anyway," said Abner Little. "What I want to know
is--is there going to be any ball?"
"Oh, get your girl anyhow, Ab," returned Daniel, with a great laugh;
"there'll be something. If there ain't dancing, there'll be kissing, and
that'll suit her just as well. And if she can't get enough here, why there's
the ride home. Lord, I'd get a girl nearer home! You've got to drive six
miles out of your way to Summer Falls and back. As for me, the
quicker I get a girl off my hands the better. I'm going to take Nancy

Blake because she lives next door to the tavern. Go along with ye, Ab;
Burr and I will settle it some way."
But it looked for some time after Abner Little left as if there would be
no ball that night. They could not have any dance unless Madelon
Hautville would sing for it, and both Daniel Plympton and Burr Gordon
were determined not to ask her.
At half-past seven Madelon was all dressed for the ball, and neither of
them had come to see her about it. She and all her brothers except
Louis were going. They wondered who would play for the dancing, but
supposed some arrangements would be made. "Burr Gordon will put it
through somehow," said Louis. "Maybe he'll ride over to Farnham
Hollow and get Luke Corliss to fiddle." Louis sat discontentedly by the
fire, with his arm soaking in cider-brandy and wormwood.
"Farnham Hollow is ten miles away," said Richard.
"His horse is fast; he'd get him here by eight o'clock," returned Louis.
Madelon was radiant. In spite of herself, she was full of hope in going
to the ball. She knew Dorothy Fair would not be present, since her
father was the orthodox parson, and she had seen her own face in her
glass. With her rival away, what could not a face like that do with a
heart that leaned towards it of its own nature? Madelon dimly felt that
Burr Gordon had to resist himself as well as her in this matter. She had
tended a monthly rose in the south window all winter, and she wore
two red roses in her black braids. Her cheeks and her lips were fuller of
warm red life than the roses. She lowered her black eyes before her
father and her brothers, for there was a light in them which she could
not subdue, which belonged to Burr Gordon only. No costly finery had
Madelon Hautville, but she had done some cunning needle-work on an
old black-satin gown of her mother's, and it was fitted as softly over her
sweet curves as a leaf over a bud. A long garland of flowers after her
own design had she wrought in bright-colored silks around the petticoat,
and there were knots of red ribbon to fasten the loopings here and there.
And she wore another red rose in her lace tucker against her soft brown
bosom. Madelon wore, too, trim black-silk stockings with red clocks

over her slender ankles, and little black-satin shoes with steel buckles
and red rosettes. Every one of her brothers, except the youngest,
Richard, must needs compare her in his own heart, to her
disparagement, with some maid not his sister, but they all viewed her
with pride. Old David Hautville's eyes, under his thick, white brows,
followed her and dwelt upon her as she moved around the kitchen.
Madelon had got out her red cloak and her silk hood, and it was nearly
time to start when there was a knock on the door. Madelon's face was
pale in a second, then red again. She pushed Richard aside. "I'll go to
the door," said she.
She knew somehow that it was Burr Gordon,