Dixie Martin, the Girl of Woodford's Cañon

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX KEN'S TALK WITH TEACHER

  A week passed, and what a week crowded with wonderful events it hadbeen.

  November came, in the same golden glory that October had gone out.

  "Doesn't winter ever come to your mountain country?" the teacher askedKen one day, and the lad, after searching the soft, hazy blue of the skyfor a threatening cloud, shook his head. "There'll be winter enoughsoon, Miss Bayley," he said, as one who knew from the experience ofhaving lived through fourteen of those blizzardous seasons. Then the ladwas silent as he trudged along by the side of the young woman whom he soadmired. It was Friday afternoon, and the boy was "packing" the booksfor teacher.

  "A bright new penny for your thoughts, Ken," Miss Bayley suddenlyexclaimed. They had reached her doorstep, and she held out her hand forthe packet he was carrying.

  The lad actually flushed. "I--er--I was wondering if--that is, I washoping that somebody would be marryin' soon."

  "Goodness, Ken!" said the young teacher, her eyes showing surprise. "Ididn't suppose that small boys were ever match-makers. Is there any onearound here who is contemplating matrimony? Sue Piggins is too young,isn't she? I have seen her driving on Sunday afternoon with Ira Jenkinsof late, but--"

  "Oh, no'm, Miss Bayley," the small boy hastened to say. "I wasn'tthinking of Sue and Ira. Mis' Piggins wouldn't hear of her daughtermarrying a blacksmith's boy. I--er--I was thinking of a rich girl in theSouth; I guess she lives there, and I was a-wishing as how she'd marrythe Lord of Dunsbury."

  After a puzzled moment, Josephine Bayley laughed merrily. "Boy," shesaid, shaking a finger at him, "you've been reading one of Mrs.Jenkins's yellow-covered novels. Mrs. Enterprise Twiggly tells me thatthe blacksmith's wife reads novels even while she pares potatoes orscrubs the floor, and there is always a rich girl marrying a lord in oneof them."

  Ken grinned rather sheepishly.

  "I don't wonder that you think I'm loony, Miss Bayley," he acknowledged."I--er was hoping that Rattlesnake Sam could come down from themountains before the blizzards set in." Then, fearing that he would haveto reveal his friend's secret if he said another word, he started to runback down the trail, calling over his shoulder: "Good-night, MissBayley. I'll see you at the party to-morrow. The girls are terriblyexcited."

  "Gee," he thought, as he went more slowly after entering the dusk of thecanyon that was caused by the sheltering pine-covered stone wall thatshut out the sun, although it was still golden in the valley and on thefar peaks. "I 'most spilled the beans that time. I'd hate awful to haveMiss Bayley find out that Rattlesnake Sam isn't an old, old 'fossil,'whatever that may be. An' I'd hate to have Mr. Edrington think Icouldn't keep his secret, but it came over me so all of a sudden thatto-morrow will be November sixth, Carol's birthday, and last year we hadan awful storm that day, though often the real blizzards don't set intill Christmas." Then, as he thought of something more joyful, he beganto whistle. "Gee, but I'll sure be glad when the snow does come, forthen Mr. Edrington's coming down to live with us, and hide up in ourloft, if his aunt should prowl around trying to find him to make himmarry that girl he doesn't want. Aunts are queer!" the lad continued tosoliloquize as he sauntered along more slowly, swinging a stick he hadcut from a tree as he passed. "There's our great-aunt now. Dixie saysshe's rich as anything, and that she lives in such a big house in theSouth that she could put four little children like us in it and not missthe room we'd take the least mite." Then, as he turned into the trailthat led down toward their own picturesque log cabin, the boy's heartwarmed with a sense of pride and ownership. "Far as I'm concerned," hedecided, "I'd heaps rather live right here than I would with ourmother's priggish Aunt Judith, even if she does own acres and acres, andlive in a sort of a mansion with white pillars."

  A moment later Dixie appeared in the open door for she had heard afamiliar whistle and the tune was one they both loved-- "Be it ever sohumble, there is no place like home."

  "Be careful, Ken, that you don't even hint about the party," the oldergirl whispered. "Carol hasn't an inkling of an idea, and we want tos'prise her."