In a Quiet Village

by S. Baring-Gould

They buzzed round her, as though she were a flower, as though they would light on her laughing lips, and she scolded them and away they flew—it was their fun, that was all, she explained. But it was not bees only that came about Prue. Village youths are not blind to female beauty, and hearts open at once to a bright spirit, as celandines open to the sun.

Prue had plenty of admirers, but her head was not turned; she laughingly kept them at a distance—that is to say, all but one, George Kennaway, and it soon became an understood thing that George also would not allow other young men to buzz about Prue. That flower was for his own sipping, not for another’s.

How this came about was as follows:—

The plank on which stood the beehives had become so rotten that Prue’s father, Roger Worden, purchased a good new Dantzic pine plank to replace that which was decayed.

The substitution must be made at night. So the plank was laid near the Conjuring Stone till the occasion came for its use. There were also there two or three short lengths of firbole, whereof to make props for the plank; as not only was Worden about to renew the old stand, but also to extend it, to sustain additional hives; until wanted, the plank was at Prue’s disposal, and she thus disposed it. She placed it across one of the logs and endeavoured to play at see-saw on it. This could only be effected by reducing the length of plank on her side to a couple of feet, and giving the other side a considerable extent. But this did not answer satisfactorily; it gave very little sway to the end on which Prue sat. She therefore tried another experiment. She rolled a big stone on to the farther end of the board, but here again the success was not great, as the stone tumbled off.

So engaged was Prue in endeavouring to obtain a ride by circumventing the difficulties that stood in her way, that she did not observe George Kennaway as he approached; and he startled her into dropping from the board when he said close to her, “You are a silly child. It takes two to play at see-saw.”

“Then you sit at the other end,” said Prue, picking herself up. She was flushed, and looked prettier than ever under the white cotton field bonnet.

“Certainly,” said the lad, “but b’aint it rather child’s play?”

“I never had brothers and sisters to play see-saw with me,” explained she.