LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXIV, Issue 2701, 4 December 1882, Page 4

LITERATURE.

MISS CYNTHY’S NEW DEESS, » The’ ain’t no use of your standin’ at that winder all day, Cynthy Pinkerton. Solomon V, intorbloom won’t go by here no more, since the new road’s been cut out; and/ with rather spiteful emphasis, ‘ t’wont do you no good if he does.’ Cynthy flushed slightly and bit her lip, but made no reply to the words of her sister, the small, dark, blunt featured woman who sat darning stockings by the feitohen fireplace. Mrs Peter Pennigood had a talent for making those about her uncomfortable, and one she cultivated industriously. ‘ It's quare,’ she continued, meditatively rocking hack and forth with irritating complacence, ‘ how much more attention some folks attracts than others. I refused three good oilers before I tuck Pennigood, an’ could a hed lots more. But you won’t never get married, Cynthy, without you take Jake Potter. I reckon you could hev him. Ho ain’t more’n eighteen, and most too lazy to draw his own breath ; an’ you wouldn’t hev nothin’ to live on, without you could get along with blackhaws an’ persimmons, like the ’jjossums; hut he’s your only chance, I reckon. Ef Solomon Winterbloom does want you, he’s too big a coward to ever apeak so he might as well not.’

Cynthy was certainly not youthful, but ter brown eyes were as soft and sweet as any young girl’s, and the color had a trick of flashing into her cheeks till they were like wahoo-borries in autumn. They were at their brightest now as she spoke—- * He asked me to go with him over to tho Marsh Church festival anyway. But I can’t unless I could have a new— ’ ‘For land’s sake don’t talk of new dresses !’ cried Mrs Pennigood, her dull, smooth voice taking a shrill tone, c jest now when everything’s so high, an’ the wheat not sold, ndr the corn gathered, and all the young ones got to hev’ school close. You oughtn’t to gave so much to them heathen varmints over yander. You never do hev no consideration, Cynthy. New dresses ain’t so plenty.’ f I don’t expect one,’ said Cynthy, quietly. ‘ But I can’t go—that’s all.’ ‘ Can’t you fix up your brown alapacky.’ c I’ve fixed and fixed it over, till it’s Beyond fixing any more. If I can’t look nice, it’s of no use to go.’ She turned to the window again calmly. But there was a sorely disappointed look in Bar eyes. She knew that if Solomon ever could get up the courage to speak, and wished to do so, the long ride to the Marsh would give him the golden opportunity ; and now she saw the chance melting away, and was helpless. ‘ I cannot even tell him why I won’t go,’ Bhe thought, despairingly. ‘ Hoy. Miss Cynthy !’ shouted a loud, Bearty voice from the lane; and Cynthy, hastily tying a blue veil over her flaxbrown locks, fluttered out as Solomon Winterbloom the tall, brown complexioned old bachelor—stopped his team at the bars. ‘ Here’s some stuff mammy sent you,’ he said, handing her a bundle, and then growing red and awkward as her gentle fingers touched his brown ones in taking it, and looking everywhere but at ter.

And she blushed and grew quite as embarrassed as he was, and neither could think of the most commonplace remark to make.

So Solomon drove off clutching the reins nervously, and ca'ling himself a fool; and Cynthy entered the kitchen, wondering what he would think of her ridiculous embarrassment.

* What’s that truck he gave you ?’ asked Mrs Pennigood, who had been watching the proceeding sharply from the window. C I reckon it’s Mrs Winterbloom’s contribution for the South Sea Islanders,’ Cynthy answered, beginning rather dejectedly to untie the parcel. ‘ She promised to send it to me, so I could take it over to the committee along with mine.’ ‘ South Sea fiddle-foddles!’ said Mrs Pennigood, scornfully. ‘ She’d better send you a dress seein’ you was smart enough to give all your ’arnins to ’em !’ ******

‘ I declar’ to goodness, Solomon Wintorbloom, you ain’t got a grain of sense. You’ve done fetched back all this truck I tole ye to give Cynthy Pinkerton for them South Sea critters the preacher was tellin’ about a Sunday. Beckon ye plum lost your head when ye seen Cynthy.’ Solomon dropped the big gourd he had just taken from the cedar water-bucket so suddenly that a shower of drops flew all around the kitchen, and turned to his mother in blank consternation.

‘ Then do you know what I must have did, mammy ;’ he asked, solemnly. ‘ I’ve gave the dress I bought, for you to Miss Cynthy. I didn’t stop there till I was coming home. Oh, Jimmeny !’ The Widow Winterbloom was one of those who contrive to see a ludicrous side to almost every circumstance, and at these words and the rueful look her of son, she dropped into a chair, threw her head back, and laughed until the old wooden chair creaked and groaned and threatened to break down under the combined mirth and weight of the widow. ‘ What kinder stuff was it ?’ she asked at last, wiping the tears from her eyes with her checked apron.

‘ Eed—awful red/ said Solomon, with much depression; ‘ kinder like a Ben. Davis apple—ye could see it a mile off.’ ‘Weil, men ain’t got no sense,’ said the widow, emphatically; ‘ especially about buyin’ dresses. Did ye think I’d be any eich a old lunatic as to be a wearin’ of scarlet at my time ? ’ ‘ I don’t know why one woman shouldn’t wear red things as well as another,’ said Solomon, ‘ef she looks nice in’em. Miss Cynthy’d look good enough to swaller in that. But oh, land, she’U be mad—she’ll . be hoppin’ ! ‘ What shill Ido ? ’ ‘ Quit a worritin,’ said his mother. ‘ She can't hev you arrested an’ hung for it. What’ll she be at ? ’Taint no killin’ matter.’

* But, mammy, how it looks for me to bo givin’ her a dress, like as if she did’nt hev bushels of’em, as, of course, she hes. An’ me never hardly darin’ to speak to her—not but what I wanted to. She’s the proud kind; she’ll be mad, I know she’ll be mad. Everything’s knocked over.’ ‘ Can’t you go ’an tell her the mistake, you big piece of foolishness ?’ * Like as not she won’t listen to no explanation. She’U be too mad.’ ‘ She’U be madder if you don’t let her keep the dress/ said the matter-of-fact widow. 4 But go ahead. Mon is men.’ Solomon, with despair in his heart, and his straw hat over his eyes, was bolting down the path, when he became conscious of a pink calico dress and a gray tie-down hat entering the gate, and to his infinite surprise ho beheld Cynthy, who gave him a shy nod, and looked inclined to run away.

‘ I wanted to thank your mother, and to tell her how pleased I was—that is, if it was really for me and not the heathen,’ she said.

* The second fool I’ve made of myself today,’ thought Solomon, ‘to forget to tell her I sent it.’

Cynthy tried to slip past him, but his late excitement had inspired him, with an unwonted courage, and he stopped her. Cynthy—Oh, wait, Cynthy,’ he said. ‘ I—am a fool, but I will say I’d be the happiest fool in the world if you’d let me buy your dresses always; if—Shucks ! I’ll have to get mammy to ask you for me, if you won’t run mo ravin’ distracted by sayin’ I shant.’ Cynthy broke into a clear ripple of laughter, and for the first time in his presence her confusion disappeared. ' How funny you are Solomon !’ she said; ‘but I think it’s a heap nicer to have you ask me your own way than for your mother to.’ When the widow looked out and saw Solomon and Cynthy under the pear-tree she remarked :

f I reckon Sol. made a lucky mistake, isomehow. She’s welcome to the dress for all me, an’ ef Sol. ain’t been green to let oat about it, I shan’t.’

A harking dog never bites; but the same measure of confidence isn’t to bo placed in a humming hornet, even if he does go to war backward.