Sister Duty,—Your help has been courting my hired girl, and I don't suppose you want any such doings, any more than I do. I have shet the girl up in her room till he is gone, and sent for her stepmother. So no more from your sister.
R. E. Bute.
Who shall paint Miss Duty's wrath? It was more violent than her sister's, for she was of sterner mould; and it was really a fiery whirlwind that greeted the delinquent Bijah when he came whistling in from the barn, cheerfully smiling and at peace with all the world. But the boy who faced Miss Duty in her fury was a very different person from the meek, submissive youth whom she had learned to know and tyrannize over as Bije Green.
This Bije met her torrent of angry words with head held high, and smiling countenance. Ashamed? No, he wasn't ashamed, not the least mite in the world. Pick up his duds and go? Why, of course he would—just as easy! Should he wait to split the kindling-wood and bring in the water? Just as she said; it didn't make a mite o' difference to him. Go right off, this minute of time? Ruther go than eat, any time. One week's pay—thank her kindly, much obliged. The cow was fed, and he cal'c'lated she'd find everything pretty slick in the barn. Real pleasant night for a walk—good evenin'!
The consequence of which was—what? Certainly not what Miss Duty had expected, or Miss Resigned, either.
At daybreak next morning, when the gray heads of these indignant virgins were still lying on their pillows, taking an interval of peace with all the world, Bijah was under Betsy's window, like a flame of fire. Betsy was not asleep. Oh, no! She was crying, poor little soul, at thought of going back to her stepmother, one of the old-fashioned kind, and never seeing Bije again. For she would never see him, of course. Hark! Was that a pebble thrown against the glass? A peep through the green blinds, up went the little window, softly, softly, and the dearest girl in the world leaned out, showing her sweet tear-stained face in the faint gray light,—a sight which made Bije more fiery than ever. Softly she bade him begone, for she dared not speak to him. How did he know Miss Bute wasn't looking at him this minute, out of her window?
It appeared that Bije did not care if twenty Miss Butes were looking at him, though one was enough to frighten the crows. Betsy was to put on her bunnit that minute, and come along with him. Door locked? What did that matter, he should like to know? He should laugh if she was to be kept shet up there like a mouse in a trap. Send her home to her stepmother? He'd like to see them try it, that was all. Never mind the things! Come right along! She'd ben cryin'! He'd like to get hold of them as made her cry. There'd be some cryin' round, but it wouldn't be hers. Come! Why didn't Betsy come? They'd take the cows out to pasture this once more,—he didn't want the dumb critters to suffer, and 't wasn't likely the old cats could get any help before night,—and then they'd go. Go where? Now Betsy knew that well enough. To Friar Laurence, of course (Bije called him parson instead of friar, and he spelled his name with a w instead of a u, but these are mere trifles of detail), to get married. Where else should they go? Wasn't she his Betsy, his own girl? Did she think she was goin' to stay there and be hectored, while he was round? Parson Lawrence was to home, Bije saw him only last night. Now could she climb down that grape-vine? He reckoned she could, and he'd be standin' ready to catch her if her foot should slip.
"Oh, Bije! you take my breath away, you're so dretful speedy. Why, I can't—no way in the world. What—where should I go then, if—if we did—do what you say? Not that I can—with no clo'es but what I've got on. The idea!"
"Go? go home, of course, to mother's. Won't she be glad to see ye? Won't Delilah half eat ye up, she'll be so pleased? That's all you know, Betsy. And the help you'll be, and me too! Mother was dretful onreconciled to my goin' away, but I felt to go and see something of the world. And now I've seen all I want to, and I'm good and ready to go home, Betsy; but not alone."