Concerning Sally

by William John Hopkins

Sally looked out as she best could between the branches of her spruce. She couldn't see much, only a little piece of the field at each opening. It was very unsatisfactory. She saw five or six boys, two of them large boys, bending over something which lay upon the ground. Presently the group divided and the boys stood up; and she saw that what they had been working on was a huge kite of the old-fashioned six-sided kind. She saw, too, that the big boys were Everett Morton and Dick Torrington. At that moment the familiar figures of the Carling twins slipped through a break in the high picket fence from the other street. Immediately, Sally scrambled out of the spruce and ran up Box Elder Street. She had a heightened color, but that might have been due to the exertion of scrambling. It might not have been due to the exertion of scrambling. Scrambling was no unusual exertion for Sally.

Sally's rapid change of base was not because of the restricted view from the tree, although her view was restricted. And it was not because of the Carlings. The Carlings were her devoted slaves; but that fact was an annoyance to her rather than a gratification, and it is conceivable that the presence of the Carlings might have had weight in inducing her to put up with the inconveniences of a restricted view. The object of interest must therefore have been either Everett or Dick or the kite.

At her school Sally was in the fifth class. They did not have forms or grades at that school. Grades are mysterious things which seem to run the wrong way, with no particular point of beginning and no particular ending. A man might be in the fiftieth grade if there were any teachers for it. There seems to be nothing to prevent. But when a boy graduates from the first class, there is a point that brings you up short. Something vital must happen then; and the thing that happens is that the boy either goes to college or goes to work, for it is out of the question to go any farther in that school. You know it without being told.

The boys in Sally's school usually went to college when they graduated from the first class. They were well prepared for it. Everett and Dick were in the first class and they would go away to college in the fall, or, at least, they hoped that they would. There was some doubt about it, for Dick was rather dull and plodding and Everett was neither dull nor plodding. They were four years ahead of Sally. I cannot tell why she had chosen those two to look up to. It is doubtful whether she could have shown adequate cause either, always supposing that she would have been willing to acknowledge the fact.

Dick was the type of the nice English boy. Sally had never seen an English boy or an English man in her whole life; but that did not prevent her from forming an ideal of the type, to which Dick measured up in every particular. He had light hair and that curious brunette coloring that sometimes goes with it; he was invariably pleasant and polite and deliberate in his speech; and he was generally well dressed. Sally was particular about that, almost finicky. If Dick had shown a tendency to overdressing—but he didn't. He had an air of distinction. He also had a sister, Emily, who was in the second class at school. Sally thought that Emily Torrington was the most beautiful girl she had ever seen. She could not imagine any girl more beautiful.

Everett was a great contrast to Dick in every respect. He had no sister. Everett was an only child and his family was very rich, so that he was in great danger of being spoiled. Not that it made any difference to Sally whether he was rich or not. And Everett was handsome, in quite a different way from Dick, and brilliant and dashing. In short, he was fascinating. Many others than Sally had found him so. It was quite likely that a woman would be more permanently happy and contented with Dick than with Everett. I do not mean to imply that Sally had ever indulged in any such reflection. She may have and she may not have; but he fascinated her, as he had fascinated those others of whom I spoke. He didn't know it. Everett Morton had never spoken to Sally. He had never even noticed her. Dick had in his good-natured, pleasant way, but Dick was always polite. Everett was not—always.

So Sally's heart was beating a little rapidly when she pushed through the break in the fence. But she had been running, you remember, for a square and a half.

The big kite was up on end, with one of the smaller boys holding it. It was a huge kite, nearly twice the height of the boy that held it and the top of it was a good foot above Everett's head as he stood in front of it; so big that they had a rope to fly it with, and the end of the rope was tied around Everett's waist. The smaller boys, of course, were clustered about the kite, the Carlings among them. Then Dick and Everett took the rope in their hands, called to the boy to let go, and began to run; and the kite rose, evenly at first, then twitching viciously from side to side. Then it hesitated for an instant, as the tail, dragging on the ground, caught around the legs of one of the Carlings. Sally had not yet become able to tell them apart, at any distance. She saw him struggle, go down with his feet in the air and with the tail of the kite still wrapped around them. She saw the other twin precipitate himself upon the fallen one, try vainly to undo the tail, then busy himself with one of his brother's shoes. The kite suddenly soared, bearing aloft, tied firmly into its tail, a shoe.

The twins remained upon the ground, one pounding the other. Sally thought that the pounded one had already had punishment enough and she ran toward them.

"You j—jay!" cried the upper twin to the under twin, as she came near. "You b—b—bum, you! D—don't you kn—know any b—b—better 'n t—to g—get c—c—caught th—that way? You—"