As she went wearily into her father’s work-room, and sat down to her spinning-wheel, she heard his voice at the window calling her.
“Well?” she said, listlessly.
“’Pears to me,” said he, jocosely, “as having rained, it air cert’n’y pourin’. Heah’s Joe Scott come ter bring yo’ them jorhnny-jump-ups he sez as he promised yo’.”
She got violently to her feet, upsetting the wheel and tearing her skirt against a projecting nail as she hastened to the window. “Tell him I’m sick,” she said. “Tell him I’m in bade. I ain’t a-goin’ ter see him; that’s flat. If needs be, tell him so.”
But Mr. Joseph Scott had already entered the room. He was a person of sinuous, snake-like presence, and seemed capable of shedding his complete attire by means of one deft wriggle. His neck rose from a turn-down celluloid collar, after the fashion of the neck of “Alice in Wonderland,” after she had partaken of the cake which caused her to exclaim, “Curiouser, and curiouser!” His long locks, of a vague, smoky tint, exuded an unsavory smell of (I am ashamed to say) rancid pomatum. He wore a threadbare summer overcoat, though in his case the “over” was a decided misnomer, as there was nothing under it but an unbleached cotton shirt, and a sporting vest which had evidently belonged to some Briton. His necktie would have put an October forest to the blush. His mud-colored trousers were pulled down outside of his great cowhide boots, which presented their very apparent tops in a ridgy circle beneath the stuff of his trousers.
A strangling sense of loathing and revolt rose in Virginia’s throat. She felt as though she would indeed suffocate beneath that terrible combination of smell and vulgarity. She leaned far out of the window, and spoke to him without turning her head.
“Mornin’,” she said, curtly. “P’r’aps you heard me tell father I was sick.”
“Lor’! air you?” said Mr. Scott. “I cert’n’y am sawry. Here’s them jorhnny-jump-ups I hearn you seh ez how you wanted.”
“Thank you,” said Virginia, in a stifled voice. She still leaned out of the window, and the conversation flagged.
“Larse night,” suddenly announced Mr. Scott, with spasmodic assertiveness, “Larse night a peeg-horg came down th’ mounting and gneawed all pa’s corn orf.”