The Little Red Foot

by Robert W. Chambers

  CHAPTER XXII

  HAG-RIDDEN

  So passed that unreal summer of '76; and so came autumn upon us with itscrimsons, purples, and russet-gold; its cherry-red suns a-swimming inthe flat marsh fogs; its spectral mists veiling Vlaie Water andcurtaining the Sacandaga from shore to shore.

  Rumours of wars came to us, but no war; gossip of armies and of battles,but no battles.

  Armies of wild-fowl, however, came to us on the great Vlaie; duck andgeese and companies of snowy swans; and at night I could hear theirfairy trumpets in the sky heralding the white onset from the North.

  And pigeons came to the beech-woods, millions and millions, so thattheir flight was a windy roaring in the sky and darkened the sun.

  Birches and elms and chestnuts and soft maples turned yellow; and soturned the ghostly tamaracks ere their needles fell. Hard maples andoaks grew crimson and scarlet and the blueberry bushes and sumachsglowed like piles of fire.

  But the world of pines darkened to a deeper emerald; spruce and hemlocktook on a more sober hue; and the flowing splendour of the evergreensnow robed plain and mountain in sombre magnificence, dully brocaded hereand there by an embroidery of silver balsam.

  When I was strong enough to trail a rifle and walk my post on theveranda roof, my Saguenay Indian took to the Drowned Lands, scouting themeshed water-leads like a crested diving-duck; and his canoe nosed intoevery creek from Mayfield to Fish House.

  Nick foraged, netting pigeons on the Stacking Ridge, shooting partridge,turkey, and squirrel as our need prompted, or dropping a fat doe atevening on the clearing's edge beyond Howell's house.

  Of fish we had our fill,--chain-pike and silver-pike from Vlaie Water;trout out of Hans Creek and Frenchman's Creek.

  Corn, milled grain, and pork we drew a-horse from Johnstown or Mayfield;we had milk and butter of our own cows, and roasting ears and potatoes,squash, beets, and beans, and a good pumpkin for our pies, all fromSummer House garden. And a great store of apples--for it was a year forthat fruit--and we had so many that Nick pitted scores of bushels; andwe used them to eat, also, and to cook.

  Now, against first frost, Penelope had sewed for us sacks out o' towcloth; and when frost came to moss the world with spongy silver, we wentafter nuts, Nick and I,--chestnuts from the Stacking Ridge, and gatheredbeechnuts there, also. Butternuts we found, sticky and a-plenty, alongthe Sacandaga; and hickory nuts on every ridge, and hazel filbertsbordering clearing and windfall in low, moist woods.

  Sure we were well garnered if not well garrisoned at Summer House whenthe first snow flakes came a-drifting like errant feathers floating froma wild-fowl shot in mid-air.

  The painted leaves dropped in November, settling earthward through stillsunshine in gold and crimson clouds.

  "Mother Earth hath put on war-paint," quoth Penelope, knitting. Shespoke to Nick, turning her head slightly. She spoke chiefly to him inthese days, I having become, as I have said, a silent ass; and sostrange and of so infrequent speech that they did not even venture toremark to me my reticence; and I think they thought my hurt had changedme in my mind and nature. Yet I was but a simple ass, differing onlyfrom other asses in that they brayed more frequently than I.

  In silence I nursed a challenging in my breast, where love should havelain secure and warm; and I wrapped the feverish, mewling thing in envy,jealousy, and sullen pride,--fit rags to swaddle such a waif.

  For once, coming upon Penelope unawares, I did see her gazing upon aminiature picture of Steve Watts, done bravely in his red regimentals.

  Which, perceiving me, she hid in her bosom and took her milk-pails tothe orchard without a word spoken, though the colour in her face waseloquent enough.

  And very soon, too, I had learned for sure what I already believed ofher, that she was a very jade; for it was plain that she had nowensnared Nick, and that they were thick as a pair o' pup hounds, and hadconfidences between them in low voices and with smiles. Which my comingchecked only so far. For it was mostly to him she spoke openly at table,when, the smoking dishes set, she took her seat between us, out o'breath and sweet as a sun-hot rose.

  God knows they were not to blame; for in one hour I might prove glumand silent as a stone; and in another I practiced carelessness andindifference in my speech; and in another, still, I was like to begarrulous and feverish, insisting upon any point raised; laughingwithout decent provocation; moody and dull, loquacious and quarrelsomeby turns,--unstable, unhinged, out o' balance and incapable of anydecent equilibrium. Oh, the sorry spectacle a young man makes when thatsly snake, jealousy, hath fanged him!

  And my disorder was such that I knew I was sick o' jealousy and sorehurt of it to the bones, yet conducted like a mindless creature that,trapped, falls to mutilating itself.

  And so I was ever brooding how I might convince her of my indifference;how I might pain her by coldness; how I might subtly acquaint her of myown desirability and then punish her by a display of contempt and amortifying revelation of the unattainable. Which was to be my properself.

  Jealousy is sure a strange malady and breaketh out in divers disordersin different young men, according to their age and kind.

  I was jealous because she had been courted by others; was jealousbecause she had been caressed by other men; I was wildly jealous becauseof Steve Watts, their tryst by the lilacs; his picture which Idiscovered she wore in her bosom; I was madly jealous of her fellowshipwith my old comrade, Nick, and because, chilled by my uncivil conductand by my silences, she conversed with him when she spoke at all.

  And for all this silly grievance I had no warrant nor any atom of lucidreason. For until I had seen her no woman had ever disturbed me. Untilthat spring day in the flowering orchard I had never desired love; andif I even desired it now I knew not. I had certainly no desire formarriage or a wife, because I had no thought in my callow head ofeither.

  Only jealousy of others and a desire to be first in her mind possessedme,--a fierce wish to clear out this rabble of suitors which seemed togather in a very swarm wherever she passed,--so that she should turn tome alone, lean upon me, trust only me in the world to lend hercountenance, shelter her, and defend her. And, though God knows I meanther no wrong, nor had passion, so far, played any role in this myridiculous behaviour, I had not so far any clear intention in herregard. A fierce and selfish longing obsessed me to drive others off andkeep her for my own where in some calm security we could learn to knoweach other.

  And this--though I did not understand it--was merely the romanticdesire of a very young man to study, unhurried and untroubled, the firstfemale who ever had disturbed his peace of mind.

  But all was vain and troubled and misty in my mind, and love--or itsfretful changeling--weighed on my heart heavily. But I carried doubleweight: jealousy is a heavy hag, and I was hag-ridden morn and eve andall the livelong day to boot.

  All asses are made to be ridden.

  * * * * *

  The first snow came, as I have said, like shot-scattered down from awild-duck's breast. Then days of golden stillness, with mornings growingever colder and the frost whitening shady spots long after sun-up.

  I remember a bear swam Vlaie Water, but galloped so swiftly into thebush that no rifle was ready to stop him.

  We mangered our cattle o' nights; and, as frosty grazing checks milkflow, Nick and I brought in hay from the stacks which the Continentalsoldiers had cut against a long occupation of Summer House Point.

  Nights had become very cold and we burned logs all day long in thechimney place. My Indian was snug enough in the kitchen by the oven,where he ate and slept when not on post; and we, above, did very well bythe blaze where we roasted nuts and apples and drank new cider fromJohnstown and had a cask of ale from the Johnson Arms by waggon.

  Also, in the cellar, was some store of Sir William's--dusty bottles ofFrench and Spanish wines; but of these I took no toll, because theybelonged not to me.

  But a strange circumstance presently placed these wines in mypossession; f
or, upon a day before the first deep snow fell, comesgalloping from Johnstown a man in caped riding coat, one Jerry VanRensselaer, to nail a printed placard upon our Summer House--notice ofsale by the Committee for Sequestration.

  But who was to read this notice and attend the vendue save only thebirds and beasts of the wilderness I do not know; for on the day of thesale, which was conducted by Commissioner Harry Outthout, only some halfdozen farmer folk rode hither from Johnstown, and only one man among 'embid in money--a sullen fellow named Jim Huetson, who had Tory friends, Iknew, if he himself were not of that complexion.

  His bid was L5; which was but a beggarly offer, and angered me to seeSir William's beloved Lodge come to so mean an end. So, having somelittle money, I showed the Schoharie fellow a stern countenance, doubledhis bid, and took snuff which I do not love.

  And Lord! Ere I realized it, Summer House Point, Lodge and contents, andriparian rights as far as Howell's house were mine; and a clear deedpromised.

  Bewildered, I signed and paid the Sequestration Commissioner out o' mybuckskin pouch in hard coin.

  "You should buy the cattle, too," whispered Nick. "There be folk inJohnstown would pay well for such a breed o' cow. And there's the pig,Jack, and the sheep and the hens, and all that grain and hay so snug inthe barn."

  So I asked very fiercely if any man desired to bid against me; andneither Huetson nor his sulky comrade, Davis, having any such stomach, Ifetched ale and apples and nuts and made them eat and drink, and so drewaside the Commissioner and bargained with him like a Jew or a shoe-pegYankee; and in the end bought all.[21]

  [Footnote 21: The Commissioners for selling real estate in Tryon Countysold the personal property of Sir John Johnson some time before the Halland acreage were sold. The Commissioners appointed for sellingconfiscated personal property in Tryon County were appointed later,March 6, 1777.]

  "Shall you move hither from Fonda's Bush and sell your house?" askedNick, who now was going out on watch.

  But I made him no answer, for I had been bitten by an idea, the merethought of which fevered me with excitement. Oh, I was mad as a Marchfox running his first vixen, in that first tide of romantic love,--cleandaft and lacking reason.

  So when Commissioner Outthout and those who had come for the vendue haddrank as much of my new ale as they cared to carry home a-horse, andwere gone a-bumping down the Johnstown road like a flock of Gilpins all,I took my parchment and went into my bed chamber; and there I sat uponmy trundle bed and read what was writ upon my deed, making me the ownerof Summer House and of all that appertained to the little hunting lodge.

  But I had not purchased it selfishly; and the whole business began withan impulse born of love for Sir William, who had loved this place sowell. But even as that impulse came, another notion took shape in mylove-addled sconce.

  I sat on my trundle bed a-thinking and--God forgive me--admiring my ownlofty and romantic purpose.

  The house was still, but on the veranda roof overhead I could hear themoccasined tread of Nick pacing his post; and from below in the kitchencame the distant thump and splash of Penelope's churn, where she wasmaking new butter for to salt it against our needs.

  Now, as I rose my breath came quicker, but admiration for my resolveabated nothing--no!--rather increased as I tasted the sad pleasures ofmartyrdom and of noble renunciation. For I now meant to figure in thisgirl's eyes in a manner which she never could forget and which, Itrusted, might sadden her with a wistful melancholy after I was gone andshe had awakened to the irreparable loss.

  * * * * *

  When I came down into the kitchen where, bare of arms and throat, shestood a-churning, she looked at me out of partly-lowered eyes, as thoughdoubting my mood--poor child. And I saw the sweat on her flushed cheeks,and her yellow hair, in disorder from the labour, all curled into damplittle ringlets. But when I smiled I saw that lovely glimmer dawning,and she asked me shyly what I did there--for never before had I comeinto her kitchen.

  So, still smiling, I gave an account of how I had bought Summer House;and she listened, wide-eyed, wondering.

  "But," continued I, "I have already my own glebe at Fonda's Bush, and ahouse; but there be many with whom fortune has not been so complacent,and who possess neither glebe nor roof, yet deserve both."

  "Yes, sir," she said, smiling, "there be many such folk and always willbe in the world. Of such company am I, also, but it saddens me not atall."

  I went to her and showed her my deed, and she looked down on it, herhands clasped on the churn handle.

  "So that," said she, "is a lawful deed! I have never before been shownsuch an instrument."

  "You shall have leisure enough to study this one," said I, "for I conveyit to you."

  "Sir?"

  "I give Summer House to you," said I. "Here is the deed. When I go toJohnstown again I will execute it so that this place shall be yours."

  She gazed at me in dumb astonishment.

  "Meanwhile," said I, "you shall keep the deed.... And now you are, infact, if not yet in title, mistress of Summer House. And I think, thisnight, we should break a bottle of Sir William's Madeira to drink healthto our new chatelaine."

  She came from her churn and caught my arm, where I had turned to ascendthe steps.

  "You are jesting, are you not, my lord?"

  "No! And do not use that term, 'lord,' to me."

  "You--you offer to give me--me--this estate!"

  "Yes. I do give it you."

  There was a tense silence.

  "Why do you offer this?" she burst out breathlessly.

  "Why should I have two estates and you have none, Penelope?"

  "But that is no reason!" she retorted, almost violently. "For whatreason, then, do you give me Summer House? It--it must be you arejesting, my lord!----"

  At that, displeasure made me redden, and I damned the title under mybreath.

  "If you please," said I, "you will have done with all these 'sirs' and'my lords,' for I am a plain yoeman of County Tryon and wear a buckskinshirt. Not that I would criticise Lord Stirling or any such who stillcare to wear by courtesy what I have long ago worn out," I added, "butthe gentry and nobility of Tryon travel one way and I the other; and myfriends should remember it when naming me."

  She stood looking at me out of her brown eyes, and slowly their troubledwonder changed to dumb perplexity. And, looking, took up her apron'sedge and stood twisting it between both hands.

  "I give you Summer House," said I, "because you are orphaned and livealone and have nothing. I give it because a maid ought to possess aportion; and, thirdly, I give it because I have enough of my own, andnever desired more of anything than I need. So take the Summer House,Penelope, with the cattle and fowl and land; for it gives you a stationand a security among men and women of this odd world of ours, and lendsto yourself a confidence and dignity which only sheerest folly canoverthrow."

  She came, after a silence, slowly, and took me by the hand.

  "John Drogue," says she in a voice not clear, "I can not take of youthis estate."

  "You shall take it! And when again, where you sit a-knitting, the youngmen gather round you like flies around a sap-pan--then, by God, youshall know what countenance to give them, and they shall know whatcolour to give their courting!--suitors, gallants, Whig or Tory--thewhole damned rabble----"

  "Oh," she cried softly, "John Drogue!" And fell a-laughing--or was it aquick sob that checked her throat?

  But I heeded it not, having caught fire; and presently blazed noisily.

  "Because you are servant to Douw Fonda!" I cried, "and because you arealone, and because you are young and soft with a child's eyes and yellowhair, they make nothing of schooling you to their pot-housegallantries, and every damned man jack among them comes a-galloping tothe chase. Yes, even that pallid beast, Sir John!--and the tears ofClaire Putnam to haunt him if he were a man and not the dirty libertinehe is!"

  I looked upon her whitened face in ever-rising passion:

 
; "I tell you," said I, "that the backwoods aristocracy is the better andsafer caste, for the other is rotten under red coat or blue; and aring-tailed cap doffed by a gnarled hand is worth all your laced cockedhats bound around with gold and trailed in the dust with fine, smoothfingers!"

  Sure I was in a proper phrensy now, nor dreamed myself a target for thehigh gods' laughter, where I vapoured and strode and shouted aloud mymoral jeremiad.

  "So," said I, "you shall have Summer House; and shall, as you sita-knitting, make your choice of honest suitors at your ease and not bewaylaid and hunted and used without ceremony by the first young hot-headwho entraps you in the starlight! No! Nor be the quarry of oldervillains and subtler with persuasion. No!

  "For today Penelope Grant, spinster, is a burgesse of Johnstown, and isa person both respectable and taxed. And any man who would court hermust conduct suitably and in a customary manner, nor, like a wildfalcon, circle over head awaiting the opportunity to strike.

  "No! All that sport--all that gay laxity and folly is at an end. Andhere's the damned deed that ends it!" I added, thrusting the parchmentinto her hands.

  She seemed white and frightened. And, "Oh, Lord!" she breathed, "have I,then, conducted so shamelessly? And did I so wholly lose your favourwhen you kissed me?"

  I had not meant that, and I winced and grew hot in the cheeks.

  "I am not a loose woman," she said in her soft, bewildered way. "Unlessit be a fault that I find men somewhat to my liking, and their gaymanners pleasure me and divert me."

  I said: "You have a way with men. None is insensible to your youth andbeauty."

  "Is it so?" she asked innocently.

  "Are you not aware of it?"

  "I had thought that I pleased."

  "You do so. Best tread discreetly. Best consider carefully now. Thenchoose one and dismiss the rest."

  "Choose?"

  "Aye."

  "Whom should I choose, John Drogue?"

  "Why," said I, losing countenance, "there is the same ardent rabble likethat plague of suitors which importuned the Greek Penelope. There arethe sap-pan flies all buzzing."

  "Oh. Should I make a choice if entreated?"

  "A burgesse is free to choose."

  "Oh. And to which suitor should I give my smile?"

  "Well," said I, sullenly, "there is Nick. There also is your Cornet ofHorse--young Jack-boots. And there is the young gentleman whose pictureyou wear in your bosom."

  "Captain Watts?" she asked, so naively that jealousy stabbed meinstantly, so that my smile became a grimace.

  "Sure," said I, "you think tenderly on Stephen Watts."

  "Yes."

  "In fact," I almost groaned, "you entertain for him those virtuoussentiments not unbecoming to the maiden of his choice.... Do you not,Penelope?"

  "He has courted me a year. I find him agreeable. Also, I pityhim--although his impatience causes me concern and his ardourinconveniences me.... The sentiments I entertain for him are virtuous,as you say, sir. And so are my sentiments for any man."

  "But is not your heart engaged in this affair?"

  "With Captain Watts?"

  "Yes."

  "Oh, I thought you meant with you, sir."

  I affected to smile, but my heart thumped my ribs.

  "I have not pretended to your heart, Penelope."

  "No, sir. Nor I to yours. And, for the matter, know nothing concerninghearts and the deeper pretensions to secret passions of which one hearsso much in gossip and romance. No, sir; I am ignorant. Yet, I havethought that kindness might please a woman more easily than sighs andvapours.... Or so it seems to me.... And that impatient ardour onlyperplexes.... And passion often chills the natural pity that a womanentertains for any man who vows he is unhappy and must presently perishof her indifference....

  "Yet I am not indifferent to men.... And have used men gently.... Andforgiven them.... Being not hard but pitiful by disposition."

  She made a movement of unconscious grace and drew from her bosom thelittle picture of Steve Watts.

  "You see," said she, "I guard it tenderly. But he went off in a passionand rebuked me bitterly for my coquetry and because I refused to fleewith him to Canada.... He, being an enemy to liberty, I would notconsent.... I love my country.... And better than I love any man."

  "He begged an elopement that night?"

  "Yes."

  "With marriage promised, doubtless."

  "Lord," says she, "I had not thought so far."

  "Did he not promise it?"

  "No, sir."

  "What? Nor mention it?"

  "I did not hear him."

  "But in his courtship of a year surely he conducted honestly!" Iinsisted angrily.

  "Should a man ask marriage when he asks love, Mr. Drogue?"

  "If he means honestly he must speak of it."

  "Oh.... I did not understand.... I thought that love, offered, meantmarriage also.... I thought they all meant that--save only Sir John."

  We both fell silent. After a little while: "I shall some day ask CaptainWatts what he means," said she, thoughtfully. "Surely he must know I ama maiden."

  "Do you suppose such young men care!" I said sullenly.

  But she seemed so white and distressed at the thought that the sneerdied on my lips and I made a great effort to do generously by my oldschool-mate, Stevie Watts.

  "Surely," said I, "he meant no disrespect and no harm. Stephen Watts isnot of the corrupt breed of Walter Butler nor debauched like SirJohn.... However, if he is to be your lover--perhaps it were convenientto ask him something concerning his respectful designs upon you."

  "Yes, sir, I shall do so--if he comes hither again."

  So hope, which had fallen a-flickering, expired like a tiny flame. Sheloved Steve Watts!

  I turned and limped up the stairway.

  And, at the stair-head, met Nick.

  "Well," said I savagely, "you may not have her. For she loves SteveWatts and dotes on his picture in her bosom. And as for you, you may goto the devil!"

  "Why, you sorry ass," says he, "have you thought I desired her?"

  "Do you not?"

  "Good God!" cried he, "because this poor and moon-smitten gentleman hathrolled sheep's eyes upon a yellow-haired maid, then, in his mind, allthe world's aflame to woo her too and take her from his honest arms!What the plague do I want of your sweetheart, Jack Drogue, when I've oneat Pigeon Wood and my eye on another, too!"

  Then he fell a-laughing and smote his thighs with a loud slapping.

  "Aha!" he cried, "did I not warn you? Did I not foresee, foretell, andprophesy that you would one day sicken of a passion for thisyellow-haired girl from Caughnawaga!"

  "Idiot," said I in a rage, "I do not love her!"

  "Then you bear all the earmarks!" said he, and went off stamping hismoccasins and roaring with laughter.

  And I went on watch to walk my post all a-tremble with fury, and fairsick of jealousy and my first boyish passion.

  * * * * *

  Now, it is a strange thing how love undid me; but it is still strangerhow, of a sudden, my malady passed. And it came about in this way, thattoward sunset one day, when I came from walking my post on the verandaroof to find why Nick had not relieved me, I descended the stairs andlooked into the kitchen, where was a pleasant smell of cinnamon crullersfresh made and of johnnycake and of meat a-stewing.

  And there I did see Nick push Penelope into a corner to kiss her, andsaw her fetch him a clout with her open hand.

  Then again, and broad on his surprised and silly face, fell her littlehand like the clear crack of a drover's whip.

  And, "There!" she falters, out o' breath, "there's for you, friendNicholas!"

  "My God!" says he, in foolish amaze, "why do you that, Penelope!"

  "I kiss whom I please and none other!" says she, fast breathing, and herdark eyes wide and bright.

  "Whom you please," quoth Nick, abashed but putting a bold face onit--"well then, you please me, and therefore
ought to kiss me----"

  "No, I will not! John Drogue hath shown me what is my privilege in thisidle game of bussing which men seem so ready to play with me, whether Iwill or no!... Have I hurt you, Nick?"

  She came up to him, still flushed and her childish bosom still risingand falling fast.

  "You love Jack Drogue," said he, sulkily, "and therefore belabour me whodote on you."

  "I love you both," said she, "but I am enamoured of neither. Also, Idesire no kisses of you or of Mr. Drogue, but only kindness and goodwill."

  "You entertain a passion for Steve Watts!" he muttered sullenly, "andthere's the riddle read for you!"

  But she laughed in his face and took up her pan of crullers and set themon the shelf.

  "I am chatelaine of Summer House," said she, "and need render no accountof my inclinations to you or to any man. Who would learn for himselfwhat is in my mind must court me civilly and in good order.... Do youdesire leave to court me, Nick?"

  "Not I!--to be beaten by a besom and flouted and mocked to boot! Nenni,my pretty lass! I have had my mouthful of blows."

  "Oh. And your comrade? Is he, do you think, inclined to court me?"

  "Jack Drogue?"

  "The same."

  "You have bedeviled him," said Nick sulkily, "as you have witched allmen who encounter you. He hath a fever and is sick of it."

  She was slicing hot johnnycake with a knife in the pan; and now lookedup at him with eyes full of curiosity.

  "Bewitched him? I?"

  "Surely. Who else, then?"

  "You are jesting, Nick."

  "No. Like others he has taken the Caughnawaga fever. The very air youbreathe is full of it. But, with a man like my comrade, it is no morethan a fever. And it passes, pretty maid!--it passes."

  "Does it so?"

  "It does. It burns out folly and leaves him the healthier."

  "Oh, then--with a gentleman like your comrade, Mr. Drogue--l'amour n'estqu'une maladie legere qui se guerira sans medecin, n'est-ce pas?"

  "Say that in Canada and doubtless the very dicky-birds will answerwee-wee-wee!" he retorted. "But if you mean, does John Drogue mate belowhis proper caste, then there's no wee-wee-wee about it; for that theLaird of Northesk will never do!"

  "I know that," said she coolly. And opened the pot to fork the steamingstew, then set on the cover and passed her hand over her brow where aslight dew glistened and where her hair curled paler gold and tighter,like a child's.

  "Friend Nick?"

  "I hear thee, breeder of heart-troubles."

  "Listen, then. No thought of me should trouble any man as yet. My heartis not awake--not troublesome,--not engaged,--no, not even to poorStephen Watts. For the sentiment I entertain for him is only pity for aboy, Nick, who is impetuous and rash and has been too much flattered bythe world.... Poor lad--in his play-hour regimentals!--and no beard onhis smooth cheek.... Just a fretful, idle, and self-indulgent boy!...Who protests that he loves me.... Oh, no, Nick! Men sometimes bewilderme; but I think it is our own passion that destroys us women--nottheirs.... And there is none in me,--only pity, and a great friendlinessto men.... And these only have ever moved me."

  He was sitting on a pine table and munching of a cruller. "Penelope,"says he, "your honesty and wholesome spirit should physic men of theirmeaner passions. If you are servant to Douw Fonda, nevertheless youthink like a great lady. And I for one," he added, munching away, "shallquarrel with any man who makes little of the mistress of Summer HousePoint!"

  And then--oh, Lord!--she turns from her oven, takes his silly headbetween both hands, and gives him a smack on the lips!

  "There," says she, "you have had of your sister what you never shouldhave had of the Scottish lass of Caughnawaga!"

  He got off the table at that, looking mighty pleased but sheepish, andmuttered something concerning relieving me on post.

  And so, lest I should be disgraced by my eavesdropping, and feeling meanand degraded, yet oddly contented that Penelope loved no man with secretpassion, I slunk away, my moccasins making no sound.

  So when Nick came to relieve me he discovered me still on post; and saidhe pettishly: "Penelope Grant hath clouted me, mind and body; and I amthe better man by it, though somewhat sore; and I shall knock the headof any popinjay who fails in the respect all owe this girl. And I wishto God I had a hickory stick here, and Sir John Johnson across my knee!"

  I went into my chamber and laid me down on my trundle bed.

  I was contented. I no longer seemed to burn for the girl. Also, I knewshe burned for no man. A vast sense of relief spread over me like a softgarment, warming and soothing me.

  And so, pleasantly passed my sick passion for the Scottish girl; andpleasantly I fell asleep.