"You can pay at least a small part of the penalty you owe by seeing the girl and bearing the pain of an interview," replied Billy. "But if you are too cowardly to visit her, write. I suppose that's what I should do if I were in your place. But I'd be a poor example for a manly man to follow."
"I'll see her," replied Dic. "Poor Sukey! I pity her."
"It isn't safe to pity a girl like Sukey. Pity has a dangerous kinsman," observed Billy.
On his way home, Dic called upon Sukey, and, finding her out, left word he would return that evening. When she received the message her heart throbbed with hope, and the dimples twinkled joyously for the first time in many days. She used all the simple arts at her command to adorn herself for his reception, and toiled to assist the dimples in the great part they would soon be called upon to play in the drama of her life. She knew that Dic did not trust her, and from that knowledge grew her own doubts as to the course he would take. Hope and fear warmed and chilled her heart by turns; but her efforts to display her charms were truly successful; and faith, born of man's admiration, led her to believe she would that night win the greatest prize the world had to offer, and would save herself from ruin and disgrace.
Soon after supper the family were relegated to the kitchen, and Sukey, with palpitating heart, waited in the front room for Dic.
Among our simple rural folk a décolleté gown was considered immodest. In order to be correct the collar must cover the throat, as nearly to the chin and ears as possible. Sukey's dresses were built upon this plan, much to her regret; for her throat and bosom were as white and plump—but never mind the description. They suited Sukey, and so far as I have ever heard they were entirely satisfactory to those so fortunate as to behold them. Therefore, when she was alone, knowing well the inutility of the blushing rose unseen, she opened the dress collar and tucked it under at each side, displaying her rounded white throat, with its palpitating little spot—almost another dimple—where it merged into the bosom. There was no immodest exposure, but when Mrs. Yates returned to the room for her glasses, the collar was quickly readjusted and remained in place till Dic's step was heard. Now, ready, and all together: dimples, lips, teeth, eyes, and throat, do your duty! So much depended upon Dic that she wanted to fall upon her knees when he entered. It grieves me to write thus of our poor, simple little girl, whose faults were thrust upon her, and I wish I might have told this story with reference only to her dimples and her sweetness; but Dic shall not be hopelessly condemned for his sin, if I can prevent it, save by those who are entitled to cast stones, and to prevent such condemnation I must tell you the truth about Sukey. The fact that he would not claim the extenuation of temptation is at least some reason why he should have it.
I shall not tell you the details of this interview. Soon after Dic's arrival our little Hebe was in tears, and he, moved by her suffering, could not bring himself to tell her his determination. Truly, Billy was right. It was dangerous to pity such a girl. Dic neither consented nor refused to marry her, but weakly evaded the subject, and gave her the impression that he would comply with her wishes. He did not intend to create that impression; but in her ardent desire she construed his silence to suit herself, and, becoming radiant with joy, was prettier and more enticing than she had ever before appeared. Therefore, as every man will agree, Dic's task became difficult in proportion, and painful beyond his most gloomy anticipations. His weakness grew out of a great virtue—the wholesome dread of inflicting pain.
During the evening Sukey offered Dic a cup of cider, and her heart beat violently while he drank.
"It has a peculiar taste," he remarked.