The Blunders of a Bashful Man | Page 5

for your face is as red as fire."
Very consoling when a young man wants to look real sweet. But that's
my luck. I'll be as pale as a poet when I leave my looking-glass, but
before I enter a ball-room or a dining-room I'll be as red as an alderman.
I have often wished that I could be permanently whitewashed, like a
kitchen wall or a politician's record. I think, perhaps, if I were

whitewashed for a month or two I might cure myself of my habit of
blushing when I enter a room. I bought a box of "Meen Fun" once, and
tried to powder; but I guess I didn't understand the art as well as the
women do; it was mean fun in good earnest, for the girl I was going to
take to singing-school wanted to know if I'd been helping my ma make
biscuits for supper; and then she took her handkerchief and brushed my
face, which wasn't so bad as it might have been, for her handkerchief
had patchouly on it and was as soft as silk. But that wasn't Belle
Marigold, and so it didn't matter.
To return to church. I went again in the evening, and felt more at home,
for the kerosene was not very bright. I got along without any accident.
After meeting was out, father stopped to speak to the minister. As I
stood in the entry, waiting for him, Belle came out, and asked me how I
felt after the picnic. I saw she was alone, and so I hemmed, and said:
"Have you any one to see you home?"
She said, "No; but I'm not afraid--it's not far," and stopped and waited
for me to offer her my arm, looking up at me with those bewitching
eyes.
"Oh," said I, dying to wait upon her, but not daring to crook my elbow
before the crowd, "I'm glad of that; but if you are the least bit timid,
Miss Marigold, father and I will walk home with you."
Then I heard a suppressed laugh behind me, and, turning, saw that
detestable Fred Hencoop, who never knew what it was to feel modest
since the day his nurse tied his first bib on him.
"Miss Marigold," said he, looking as innocent as a lamb, "if you do me
the honor to accept my arm, I'll try and take you home without calling
on my pa to assist me in the arduous duty." And she went with him.
I was very low-spirited on the way home.
"As sure as I live I'll go and call on her to-morrow evening, and show
her I'm not the fool she thinks I am," I said, between my gritted teeth.
"I'll take her a new sash to replace the one I spoiled at the picnic, and

we'll see who's the best fellow, Hencoop or I."
The next afternoon I measured off four yards of the sweetest
sash-ribbon ever seen in Babbletown, and charged myself with seven
dollars--half my month's salary, as agreed upon between father and
me--and rolled up the ribbon in white tissue paper, preparatory to the
event of the evening.
"Where are you going?" father asked, as I edged out of the store just
after dark.
"Oh, up the street a piece."
"Well, here's a pair o' stockings to be left at the Widow Jones'. Just call
as you go by and leave 'em, will you?"
I stuck the little bundle he gave me in my coat-tail pocket; but by the
time I passed the Widow Jones' house I was so taken up with the
business on hand that I forgot all about the stockings.
I could see Miss Marigold sitting at the piano and hear her singing as I
passed the window. It was awful nice, and, to prolong the pleasure, I
stayed outside about half an hour, then a summer shower came up, and
I made up my mind and rang the bell. Jane came to the door.
"Is the squire at home?" says I.
"No, sir, he's down to the hotel; but Miss Marigold, she's to hum," said
the black girl, grinning. "Won't you step in? Miss will be dreffle sorry
her pa is out."
She took my hat and opened the parlor door; there was a general dazzle,
and I bowed to somebody and sat down somewhere, and in about two
minutes the mist cleared away, and I saw Belle Marigold, with a rose in
her hair, sitting not three feet away, and smiling at me as if coaxing me
to say something.
"Quite a shower?" I remarked.

"Indeed--is it raining?" said she.
"Yes, indeed," said I; "it came up very sudden."
"I hope you didn't get wet?" said she, with a sly look.
"Not this time," said I, trying to