Sandy

by Alice Caldwell Hegan Rice

  CHAPTER XI

  "THE LIGHT THAT LIES"

  During the summer Sandy worked faithfully to make amends for hisfailure to win the scholarship. He had meekly accepted the torrent ofabuse which Mrs. Hollis poured forth, and the open disapproval shownby the Meeches; he had winced under Martha's unspoken reproaches, andgroaned over the judge's quiet disappointment.

  "You see, my boy," the judge said one day when they were alone, "I hadset my heart on taking you into the office after next year. I hadcounted on the scholarship to put you through your last year at theacademy."

  "It was the fool I was," cried Sandy, in deep contrition, "but ifye'll trust me the one time more, may I die in me traces if I everstir out of them!"

  So sincere was his desire to make amends that he asked to read lawwith the judge in the evenings after his work was done. Nothing couldhave pleased the judge more; he sat with his back to the lamp and hisfeet on the window-sill, expounding polemics to his heart's desire.

  Sandy sat in the shadow and whittled. Sometimes he did not listen atall, but when he did, it was with an intensity of attention, an utterabsorption in the subject, that carried him straight to the heart ofthe matter. Meanwhile he was unconsciously receiving a life-imprint ofthe old judge's native nobility.

  From the first summer Sandy had held a good position at thepost-office. His first earnings had gone to a round little surgeon onboard the steamship _America_. But since then his funds had run ratherlow. What he did not lend he contributed, and the result was a chronicstate of bankruptcy.

  "You must be careful with your earnings," the judge warned. "It isnot easy to live within an income."

  "Easier within it than without it, sir," Sandy answered from deepexperience.

  After the Lexington episode Sandy had shunned Martha somewhat; when hedid go to see her, he found she was sick in bed.

  "She never was strong," said Mrs. Meech, sitting limp and disconsolateon the porch. "Mr. Meech and I never thought to keep her this long.The doctor says it's the beginning of the end. She's so patient it'senough to break your heart."

  Sandy went without his dinner that day, and tramped to town and back,in the glare of the noon sun, to get her a basket of fruit. Then hewrote her a letter so full of affection and sympathy that it broughtthe tears to his own eyes as he wrote. He took the basket with thenote and left them at her door, after which he promptly forgot allabout her. For his whole purpose in life these days, aside fromassisting the government in the distribution of mail and reading amusty old volume of Blackstone, was learning to dance.

  In ten days was the opening of the county fair, and Sandy had receivedan invitation to be present at the fair hop, which was the socialexcitement of the season. It was to be his introduction into society,and he was determined to acquit himself with credit.

  He assiduously practised the two-step in the back room of thepost-office when the other clerk was out for lunch; he tried elaborateand ornate bows upon Aunt Melvy, who considered even the mildest "reelchune" a direct communication from the devil. The moment thepost-office closed he hastened to Dr. Fenton's, where Annette wastaking him through a course of private lessons.

  Dr. Fenton's house was situated immediately upon the street. Openingthe door, one passed into a small square hall where the Confederateflag hung above a life-size portrait of General Lee. On every sidewere old muskets and rusty swords, large pictures of decisivebattles, and maps of the siege of Vicksburg and the battle of BullRun. In the midst of this warlike atmosphere sat the unreconstructedlittle doctor, wearing his gray uniform and his gray felt hat, whichhe removed only when he ate and slept.

  Here he ostensibly held office hours, but in reality he was doingsentry duty. His real business in life was keeping up with Annette,and his diversion was in the constant perusal of a slim sheet known as"The Confederate Veteran."

  It was Sandy's privilege to pass the lines unchallenged. In fact, thedoctor's strict surveillance diminished, and he was occasionallyguilty of napping at the post when Sandy was with Annette.

  "Come in, come in," he said one day. "Just looking over the 'Veteran.'Ever hear of Sam Davis? Greatest hero South ever knew! That's hispicture. Wasn't afraid of any damned Yankee that ever pulled atrigger."

  "Was he a rebel?" asked the unfortunate Sandy.

  The doctor swelled with indignation. "He was a Confederate, sir! Inever knew a rebel."

  "It was the Confederates that wore the gray?" asked Sandy, trying tocover his blunder.

  "They did," said the doctor. "I put it on at nineteen, and I'll beburied in it. Yes, sir; and my hat. Wouldn't wear blue for a farm.Hate the sight of it so, that I might shoot myself by mistake. Everlook over these maps? This was the battle of--"

  A door opened and a light head was thrust out.

  "Now, d-dad, you hush this minute! You've told him that over and over.Sandy's my company. Come in here, Sandy."

  A few moments later there was a moving of chairs, and Annette's voicewas counting, "One, two, three; one, two, three," while Sandy wentthrough violent contortions in his efforts to waltz. He had histongue firmly between his teeth and his eyes fixed on vacancy as herevolved in furniture--destroying circles about the small parlor.

  "That isn't right," cried Annette. "You've lost the time. You d-dancewith the chair, Sandy, and I'll p-play the p-piano."

  "No, you don't!" he cried. "I'll dance with you and put the chair atthe piano, but I'll dance with no chair."

  Annette sank, laughing and exhausted, upon the sofa and looked up athim hopelessly. Her hair had tumbled down, making her look more like achild than ever.

  "You are so b-big," she said; "and you've got so m-many feet!"

  "The more of me to love ye."

  "I wonder if you d-do?" She put her chin on her palms, looking at himsidewise.

  "Don't ye do that again!" he cried. "Haven't I passed ye the warningnever to look at me when you fix your mouth like that?"

  She tried to call him a goose, though she knew that _g_'s were fatal.

  A moment later she sat at one end of the sofa in pretended dudgeon,while Sandy tried to make his peace from the other.

  "May the lightning strike me dead if I ever do it again without theasking! I'll be good now--honest to goodness, Nettie. I'll shut meeyes when you take the hurdles, and be blind to temptation. Won't yebe putting me on about the hop now, and what I must do?"

  Annette counted her fraternity pins and tried to look severe. She usedthem in lieu of scalps, and they encircled her neck, fastened herbelt, and on state occasions even adorned her shoe-buckles.

  "Well," she at last said, "to b-begin with, you must be nice toeveryb-body. You mustn't sit out more than one d-dance with oneg-girl, and you must b-break in on every dance I'm not sitting out."

  "Break in? Sit out?" repeated Sandy, realizing that the intricaciesof society are manifold.

  "Of course," said his mentor. "Whenever you see the g-girl you likedancing with any one else, you just p-put your hand on the man'sshoulder, and then she d-dances with you."

  "And will they all stop for me?" cried Sandy, not understanding at allwhy he should have the preference.

  "Surely," said Annette. "And sitting out is when you like a girl som-much that you would rather take her away to some quiet little cornerand talk to her than to d-dance with her."

  "That'll never be me," cried Sandy--"not while the band plays."

  "Shall we try it again?" she asked; and with much scoffing andscolding on her part, and eloquent apologies and violent exertion onhis, they struggled onward toward success.

  In the midst of the lesson there was a low whistle at the sidewindow. Annette dropped Sandy's hands and put her finger to her lips.

  "It's Carter," she whispered. "D-dad doesn't allow him to come here."

  "Little's the wonder," grumbled Sandy.

  Annette's eyes were sparkling at the prospect of forbidden fruit. Shetiptoed to the window and opened the shutter a few inches.

  At the opening Carter's face appeared.
It was a pale, delicate face,over-sensitive, over-refined, with the stamp of weakness on everyfeature. His restless, nervous eyes were slightly bloodshot, and therewas a constant twitching about his lips. But as he pushed back theshutter and leaned carelessly against the sill, there was an easygrace in his figure and a devil-may-care light in his eyes that wouldhave stirred the heart of a maiden less susceptible than the one whosmiled upon him from between the muslin curtains.

  He laughed lightly as he caught at a flying lock of her hair.

  "You little coward! Why didn't you meet me?"

  She frowned significantly and made warning gestures toward theinterior of the room.

  At the far window, standing with his back to them, was Mr. SandyKilday. He was engaged in a fierce encounter with an unnamed monsterwhose eyes were green. During his pauses for breath he composed a fewcomprehensive and scathing remarks which he intended to bestow uponMiss Fenton at his earliest convenience. Fickleness was a thing not tobe tolerated. She had confessed her preference for him over allothers; she must and should prove it. Just when his indignation hadreached the exploding-point, he heard his name called.

  "Sandy," cried Annette, "what do you think? Ruth is coming home!Carter is on his way to the d-depot to meet her now. She's been gonenearly a year. I never was so crazy to see anyb-body in all my life."

  Sandy wheeled about. "Which depot?" he cried excitedly; and withoutapologies or farewell he dashed out of the house and down the street.

  When the Pullman train came into the Clayton station, he was leaningagainst a truck in a pose of studied indifference. Out of the tail ofhis eye he watched the passengers alight.

  There were the usual fat women and thin men, tired women withchildren, and old women with baskets, but no sign of a small girl withcurls hanging down her back and dresses to her shoe-tops.

  Suddenly he caught his breath. Standing in the car door, like a saintin a niche, was a radiant figure in a blue traveling-suit, with a bitof blue veil floating airily from her hat brim. She was not the littlegirl he was looking for, but he transferred his devotion at a bound;for long skirts and tucked-up curls rendered her tenfold moreworshipful than before.

  He watched her descend from her pedestal, bestow an affectionate kissupon her brother, then look eagerly around for other familiar faces.In one heart-suspending instant her eyes met his, she hesitated inconfusion, then blushed and bowed.

  Sandy reeled home in utter intoxication of spirit. Even the town pumpwore a halo of glorified rosy mist.

  At the gate he met Mrs. Hollis returning from a funeral. With a suddendescent from his ethereal mood he pounced upon her and, in spite ofviolent protestations, danced her madly down the walk and depositedher breathless upon the milk-bench.

  "He's getting worse all the time," she complained to Aunt Melvy, whohad watched the performance with great glee.

  "Yas,'m," said Aunt Melvy, with a fond look at his retreating figure."He's jus' like a' Irish potato: when he ain't powerful cold, he'spowerful hot."