But I was thinking of Hope and the dance at Rickard's. I had plenty of money now and my next letter urged her to come home at once.
Chapter 24
Hope returned for a few days late in August. Invitations were just issued for the harvest dance at Rickard's.
'You mus' take 'er,' said Uncle Eb, the day she came. 'She's a purty dancer as a man ever see. Prance right up an' tell 'er she mus' go. Don' want 'O let anyone git ahead O' ye.'
'Of course I will go,' she said in answer to my invitation, 'I shouldn't think you were a beau worth having if you did not ask me.'
The yellow moon was peering over Woody Ledge when we went away that evening. I knew it was our last pleasure seeking in Faraway, and the crickets in the stubble filled the silence with a kind of mourning.
She looked so fine in her big hat and new gown with its many dainty accessories of lace and ribbon, adjusted with so much patting and pulling, that as she sat beside me, I hardly dared touch her for fear of spoiling something. When she shivered a little and said it was growing cool I put my arm about her, and, as I drew her closer to my side, she turned her hat, obligingly, and said it was a great nuisance.
I tried to kiss her then, but she put her hand over my mouth and said, sweetly, that I would spoil everything if I did that.
'I must not let you kiss me, William,' she said, 'not—not for all in the world. I'm sure you wouldn't have me do what I think is wrong—would you?'