Hooking Watermelons | Page 3

"Why don't you send her away to boarding-school, if it is so serious a
matter as that?"
"We can't afford it," said his mother, whereto Arthur promptly replied:
--
"I 'll pay her expenses. I 'm making a good deal more money than I
know what to do with, and I 'd really like the chance of doing a little
good."
His mother glanced at him with affectionate pride.
"You 're always wanting to pay somebody's expenses, or make
somebody a present. It's really unsafe, when you 're around, to indicate
that one is n't perfectly contented. But you caught me up too quickly. I
was going to say that we could n't spare her from home, anyhow. She's
the light of the house. Besides that, if it comes to objections, I 've my
notions about boarding-schools, and I 'd trust no girl of mine at one that
wasn't within sight of her home. No, she'll have to keep on here and
bear it as she can, though it's pretty hard, I know. The trouble to-night
was, that Lina Maynard, who is one of the older girls, has invited
nearly everybody at the Seminary except Amy to a birthday party
to-morrow. Little minx, I could shake her. And the worst of it is, Amy
thinks there 's nobody like Lina Maynard."
After tea it was still light, and Arthur and Amy went out to walk. In
spite of the ten years difference in their ages, he always enjoyed her

company as well as anybody's in the world, because she was so
refreshingly childlike and natural. Every chord of feeling answered so
true and clear to the touch, that to talk with her was like playing on a
musical instrument, only far more delightful. Arthur had looked
forward to walks and talks with Amy as among the jolliest treats of his
vacation. She tried her best now to seem light-hearted, and to entertain
him with the local gossip, for which he always depended on her. But
she could n't simulate the vivacious and eager air that had been the
chief charm of her talk. As he glanced down, he was grieved to see the
sad set of the pretty child face at his side, and how still had grown the
fountain of smiles in the hazel eyes that were wont to send their ripples
outward in constant succession. It is to be feared that under his breath
he applied some very ungentlemanly language to Lina Maynard and her
clique, whose nonsenical ill-nature had hurt this little girl's feelings so
sorely, and incidentally spoiled half the fun of his vacation.
"There, there, you need n't talk any more," he finally said, rather rudely,
half vexed with her, as helpful people are wont to be with those they
can do nothing to help.
She looked up in grieved surprise, but before he could speak again,
they came face to face with a party of girls coming from the direction
of the Seminary.
There were six or seven of them, perhaps, but Arthur only got the
impression of one and a lot of others. The one was a rather tall girl of
lithe figure and unusually fine carriage. Her olive complexion was
lighted with great black eyes that rested on you with an air of
imperturbable assurance, as penetrating as it was negligent. She was
talking, and her companions were listening and laughing. As they came
face to face with Arthur and Amy, he saw that they barely noticed her,
while glancing at him rather curiously, with the boldness of girls in a
crowd of their own sex. They evidently observed that he was a stranger
to the village, and of quite a different style from that of the country
bumpkins and rural exquisites they were accustomed to meeting. There
was in the big black eyes, as they had met his a moment, a suggestion
of interest that was strangely flattering, and left a trace of not

unpleasant agitation.
"Who was that?" he asked, as they passed out of hearing.
He only thought of asking for one, although there were six, nor she
apparently of answering differently.
"Lina Maynard. They are 'Sem.' girls."
It was a dulled voice she spoke in, quite unlike her usual eager way of
giving information. She, poor thing, was terribly afraid he would ask
her why they did not seem acquainted with her, and it would have been
a painful humiliation to have explained. Arthur was conscious that he
no longer had exactly the same feeling of merely contemptuous
annoyance toward Lina Maynard, on account of her treatment of Amy.
He sympathized as much with his sister, of course, but somehow felt
that to be recognized by Lina Maynard was not such a childish
ambition as he had taken for granted.