“I admire this wheel,” said he, “it has such a venerable, antique appearance. Its massy frame and brazen hoops, its grooves and swelling lines are a real study for the architect.”
“Why, I never saw those brazen rings before,” exclaimed Louis, starting up and joining Clinton, in his study of the instrument. “When did you have them put on, Miss Thusa, and what is their use?”
“I had them made when I took that long journey,” replied Miss Thusa, pushing back the wheel with an air of vexation. “It got battered and bruised, and needed something to strengthen it. Those saucy stage drivers made nothing of tossing it from the top of the stage right on the pavement, but the same man never dared to do it but once.”
“This must be made of lignum-vitæ,” said Clinton, “it is so very heavy. Such must have been the instrument that Hercules used, when he bowed his giant strength to the distaff, to gratify a beautiful woman’s whim.”
“Well, I can’t see what there is in an old wheel to attract a young gentleman like you, so!” exclaimed Miss Thusa, interposing her tall figure between it and the collegian. “I don’t want Hercules, or any sort of man, to spin at my distaff, I can tell you. It’s woman’s work, and it’s a shame for a man to interfere with it. No, no! it is better for you to ride about the country with your black horse and gold-colored fringes, turning the heads of silly girls and gaping children, than to meddle with an old woman and her wheel.”
“Why, Miss Thusa, what makes you so angry?” cried Louis, astonished at the excitement of her manner. “I never knew you impolite before.”
“I apologise for my own rudeness,” said Clinton, with inexpressible grace and ease. “I was really interested in the subject, and forgot that I might be intrusive. I respect every lady’s rights too much to infringe upon them.”
“I don’t mean to be rude,” replied Miss Thusa, giving her glasses a downward jerk, “but I’ve lived so much by myself, that I don’t know any thing about the soft, palavering ways of the world. I say again, I don’t want to be rude, and I’m not ashamed to ask pardon if I am so; but I know this fine young gentleman cares no more for me, nor my wheel, than the man in the moon, and I don’t like to have any one try to pass off the show for the reality.”
She fixed her large, gray eye so steadfastly on Clinton, that his cheek flushed with the hue of resentful sensibility, and Louis thinking Miss Thusa in a singularly repulsive mood, thought it better to depart.
“If it were not so late,” said he, approaching the door, “I would ask you for one of your interesting legends, Miss Thusa, but by the long shadow of the well-sweep on the grass, the sun must be almost down. Why do you never come to see us now? My mother would give you a cordial welcome.”