The Desired Woman Part 8

"Thar you go ag'in," Tom Drake broke in, with a hearty laugh. "First one thing an' then another. You would swear a man's life away one minute an' hug it back into 'im the next. Now, I kin prove what I say, an' you both ought to be ashamed. Mostyn not only told Dolly that dress was the purtiest thing he ever seed, but he told me to come in here an'

make 'er take it."

The twine fell from the spinster's mouth. She eyed Mrs. Drake steadily.

Mrs. Drake rose slowly to her feet. She went to the dressmaker and touched her tragically on the arm. She said something in too low a voice for her husband to catch it.

"Do you think that's it?" Miss Munson asked, a womanly blaze in her eyes.

"Yes, I saw her talkin' to Tobe at the fence," Mrs. Drake said, tremulously. "He turned square around and went back to town. Then you remember Dolly wanted to hurry over there. Miss Stella, she is my own daughter, an' maybe I oughtn't to say it, bein' 'er mother, but she's got the biggest, tenderest heart in her little body that ever the Lord planted in human form." Miss Munson stood with filling eyes for a silent moment, then she tossed the dress, paper, and twine on the bed.

"I'm goin' to leave it here," she faltered. "She can pay me for it if she wants to, in one year, two years, or ten--it don't make no odds to me. She needn't pay for it at all if she doesn't want to. I never want to see it on anybody else. She is a good girl--a regular angel of light."

Therewith the two women fell into each other's arms and began to cry.

A sniff of amus.e.m.e.nt came from Tom Drake. "Fust it was t.i.ttle-tattle, then a bar-room knock-down-and-drag-out fight, an' now it is a weepin'

camp-meetin'. I wonder what will happen when the wind changes next."

CHAPTER VII

It was a warm, sultry evening in the middle of the week. They had just finished supper at the farmhouse. Dolly, with a book, a ma.n.u.script, and a pencil, stood in a thoughtful att.i.tude under a tree on the lawn. She was joined by her uncle, his freckled face beaming with a desire to tease her.

"What time do you all begin your meetin' to-night?" he inquired, introductively.

"Eight o'clock," she said, absently, her gaze bent anxiously on the figures of two men leaning over the barn-yard fence in the thickening shadows. "Who is that father is talking to, Uncle John?" she asked, with a frown.

"It's Gid Sebastian," Webb said. "I saw 'im back on the mountain road lookin' for your pa as I come home."

"That's who it is," Dolly said, dejectedly, a soft sigh escaping her lips. The man had changed his position, and even in the twilight the broad-brimmed hat, sinister features, and dark sweeping mustache were observable. "Uncle John, you know Gid is a moons.h.i.+ner, don't you?"

"Folks says he is," Webb smiled. "An' fellers that like good corn mountain-dew ought to know who makes it. I reckon Gid is about the only moons.h.i.+ner that has escaped jail up to date. Somehow he knows how to cover his tracks an' let his men git caught an' take the punishment."

Dolly held her pencil to her lips, and, still frowning, looked at the blank ma.n.u.script paper. "Uncle John," she faltered, "I want you to--to tell me what he comes to see father so often about?"

Webb's face waxed a trifle more serious. "I don't know--never give it much thought," he said. "I don't know but what your pa once in a while sells Gid some corn to help out his still in a pinch when the authorities are watchin' his movements too close for comfort. I've seed the pile in our crib sink powerful in a single night. You remember the time your ma thought some n.i.g.g.e.rs had broke in an' stole a lot that was sh.e.l.led? Well, I noticed that your pa kicked powerful agin sendin' for the sheriff an' his dogs, an' you know in reason that he would if he had laid it to the darkies."

Dolly exhaled a deep breath. "Uncle John, I'm awful afraid--I never was so worried in my life. I'm afraid father is actually mixed up with Sebastian's gang, or is about to be."

"Do you think so?" Webb stared seriously. "That would be bad, wouldn't it--that is, if the officers ketched 'im an' had enough proof agin 'im to put 'im in limbo."

Dolly's eyes flashed, her breast rose high and fell tremblingly; she grasped her pencil tightly and held it poised like a dagger.

"Uncle John, I've been through a lot; I've stood, a great deal, kept patience and hope; but if my own father were actually arrested and put in prison I'd give up--I'd quit, I tell you. I'd never try to raise my head again. Here I am trying to put high manly ideas into George's head, but if the boy's father is a lawbreaker all I do will be thrown away. I want to see Ann grow up and marry well, but what decent man would care to tie himself to a family of jail birds? Hus.h.!.+ There comes Mr. Mostyn. You are always joking, but for goodness' sake don't mention this. If it is true we must keep our shame to ourselves."

"I've got _some_ sense left," Webb said, quite earnestly. "It ain't a thing to joke about, I'm here to state. Men, as a rule, say it ain't no lastin' disgrace to be jerked up for distillin' here amongst the pore folks the Union army trampled under heel and robbed of their all, but it ain't no fun to stand up before that United States judge an' git a sentence. I was a witness in Atlanta once, an' I know what moons.h.i.+ners go through. Your pa ain't to say actually loaded down with caution, an'

he's just the easy-goin' reckless sort that Sebastian makes cats'-paws of."

"'s.h.!.+" said Dolly, for Mostyn was quite near He was smoking an after-supper cigar.

"Got the mate to that?" Webb asked easily. "I don't like to see fine tobacco-smoke floatin' about in hot weather unless I'm helpin' to make it."

Mostyn gave him a cigar. "What is this I hear Of your club-meeting to-night?" he asked, smiling at Dolly.

"It is an impromptu affair," she answered, almost reluctantly. Then she began to smile, and her color rose. "The truth is, the whole thing started as a joke on me. I could have backed down if I had wished, but I didn't, and now it is too late."

"You'll think it's too late"--Webb was drawing at his cigar, which he held against the fire of Mostyn's--"when them fellers git through arguin', an' you the only one on your side!"

"How is that?" Mostyn asked, wonderingly.

Dolly averted her eyes. "Why," she explained, "for a long time the club has threatened to select some subject to be discussed only between Warren Wilks and myself. I didn't think much about it at the time and said it would suit me, thinking, of course, that it would only be heard by a few club-members, but now what do you think they have done?"

"I can't imagine," Mostyn answered, heartily enjoying her gravity of tone and manner.

"Why, they are not only holding me to my agreement, but they have selected a topic for discussion which of all subjects under the sun is completely beyond me. They are doing it for a joke, and they expect me to acknowledge defeat. I've been at the point all day of ignoring the whole business, and yet somehow it nearly kills me to give in. I laugh when I think about it, for the joke is on me, sure enough."

"But the subject," Mostyn urged her, "what is it?"

"Have women the right to vote?'" dropped from the girl's smiling lips.

"Oh, great! great!" the banker laughed. "I hope you are not going to let a few silly men back you down."

"I don't really see how I am going to escape going through with it,"

Dolly said. "They have sent notices all up and down the valley, and the house will be full. Look! there goes a wagon-load now. Two things are bothering me. I came out here to try to write down a few points, but not one idea has come in my head. That's the first stumbling-block, and the other is even more serious. You see, up to this time my side has generally won because when it was left to the audience the women all stood up and voted for me. I've seen them so anxious to help me out that they would force their children to stand on the benches so their heads would be counted."

"But aren't the women going to-night?" Mostyn inquired.

"More than ever got inside _that_ house," Dolly said, despondently, "but, as much as they like me and think I know what I'm talking about as a general rule, they won't be on my side of _this_ argument. They think woman's suffrage originated in the bad place. They will think I'm plumb crazy, but I can't help it. I understand that a lawyer doesn't have actually to believe in his side of a question--he simply makes as big a display of the evidence as he can muster up. Warren Wilks and the other men are tickled to death over the fun they are going to have with me to-night."

"I wouldn't miss it for any amount of money," Mostyn said, winking at the contented smoker on his right.

"I wouldn't, nuther," Webb chuckled. "Warren Wilks is a funny duck on the platform, an' he don't let a chance slip to git a joke on Dolly.

She has downed him several times, but I reckon he'll swat 'er good an'

heavy to-night."

"Well, I'll certainly have nothing to say if I stand here listening to you two," Dolly said, with a smile. "I'm going to my room to try to think up something. I'm awfully tired, anyway. I was at Barnett's till twelve o'clock last night."

"How is Robby?" Mostyn asked.

"He is out of danger," Dolly answered, as she turned away. "The doctor told me to-day that the child had had a narrow escape. A week ago he gave him up, and was surprised when he saw him doing so well yesterday."

CHAPTER VIII

Half an hour later the little cast-iron bell in the steeple of the meeting-house rang. Tom Drake and his wife and John Webb left the farmhouse, and, joining some people from the village, sauntered down the road. Tom was in his s.h.i.+rt-sleeves, for the evening was warm, but Mrs. Drake wore her best black dress with a bright piece of ribbon at the neck, a scarf over her head. Webb carried his coat on his arm and was cooling himself with a palm-leaf fan.