Wayside Courtships | Page 5

Stacey rose and dressed and went
down to breakfast. Mrs. Mills defended Herman against the charge of
laziness: "He's probably been out late all the week."
Stacey found Mott in the county courthouse, and a perfunctory
examination soon put him in possession of a certificate. There was no
question of his attainments.
Herman met him at dinner-time.
"Well, elder, I'm going down to get a rig to go out home in. It's colder'n
a blue whetstone, so put on all the clothes you've got. Gimme your
check, and I'll get your traps. Have you seen Mott?"
"Yes."
"Well, then, everything's all fixed."
He turned up about three o'clock, seated on the spring seat of a lumber
wagon beside a woman, who drove the powerful team. Whether she
was young or old could not be told through her wraps. She wore a cap
and a thick, faded cloak.
Mrs. Mills hurried to the door. "Why, Mattie Allen! What you doin' out
such a day as this? Come in here instanter!"
"Can't stop," called a clear, boyish voice. "Too late."
"Well, land o' stars!--you'll freeze."
When Wallace reached the wagon side, Herman said, "My sister,
Stacey."
The girl slipped her strong brown hand out of her huge glove and gave

him a friendly grip. "Get right in," she said. "Herman, you're going to
stand up behind."
Herman appealed to Mrs. Mills for sympathy. "This is what comes of
having plebeian connections."
"Oh, dry up," laughed the girl, "or I'll make you drive."
Stacey scrambled in awkwardly beside her. She was not at all
embarrassed, apparently.
"Tuck yourself in tight. It's mighty cold on the prairie."
"Why didn't you come down with the baroosh?" grumbled Herman.
"Well, the corn was contracted for, and father wasn't able to come--he
had another attack of neuralgia last night after he got the corn
loaded--so I had to come."
"Sha'n't I drive for you?" asked Wallace.
"No, thank you. You'll have all you can do to keep from freezing." She
looked at his thin coat and worn gloves with keen eyes. He could see
only her pink cheeks, strong nose, and dark, smiling eyes.
It was one of those terrible Illinois days when the temperature drops
suddenly to zero, and the churned mud of the highways hardens into a
sort of scoriac rock, which cripples the horses and sends the heavy
wagons booming and thundering along like mad things. The wind was
keen and terrible as a saw-bladed sword, and smote incessantly. The
desolate sky was one thick, impenetrable mass of swiftly flying clouds.
When they swung out upon the long pike leading due north, Wallace
drew his breath with a gasp, and bent his head to the wind.
"Pretty strong, isn't it?" shouted Mattie.
"Oh, the farmer's life is the life for me, tra-la!" sang Herman, from his
shelter behind the seat.

Mattie turned. "What do you think of Penelope this month?"
"She's a-gitten there," said Herman, pounding his shoe heels.
"She's too smart for young Corey. She ought to marry a man like
Bromfield. My! wouldn't they talk?"
"Did y' get the second bundle of magazines last Saturday?"
"Yes; and dad found something in the Popular Science that made him
mad, and he burned it."
"Did 'e? Tum-la-la! Oh, the farmer's life for me!"
"Are you cold?" she asked Wallace.
He turned a purple face upon her. "No--not much."
"I guess you better slip right down under the blankets," she advised.
The wind blew gray out of the north--a wild blast which stopped the
young student's blood in his veins. He hated to give up, but he could no
longer hold the blankets up over his knees, so he slipped down into the
corner of the box, with his back to the wind, with the blankets drawn
over his head.
The powerful girl slapped the reins down on the backs of the snorting
horses, and encouraged them with shouts like a man: "Get out o' this,
Dan! Hup there, Nellie!"
The wagon boomed and rattled. The floor of the box seemed beaten
with a maul. The glimpses Wallace had of the land appalled him, it was
so flat and gray and bare. The houses seemed poor, and drain-pipe
scattered about told how wet it all was.
Herman sang at the top of his voice, and danced, and pounded his feet
against the wagon box. "This ends it! If I can't come home without
freezing to death, I don't come. I should have hired a rig, irrespective of
you----"

The girl laughed. "Oh, you're getting thin-blooded, Herman. Life in the
city has taken the starch all out of you."
"Better grow limp in a great city than freeze stiff in the country," he
replied.
An hour's ride brought them into a yard before a large gray-white frame
house.
Herman