CHAPTER XXVII
WHILE SHELLING PEAS
Miss Jean, spick and span in a cool dress of wash fabric, took acritical survey of herself in the mirror, and adjusted a wide shade hatat exactly the right angle. Then, taking a bright tin pan she salliedforth into the afternoon sun. Her course led her back of the house,through the orchard, and finally to a garden patch a couple of acres inextent. There, by a strange coincidence, Chetwood was working among theplants. At sight of her he paused, straightened his back and leaned uponhis hoe.
"Oh, are _you_ here?" said Miss Jean in tones of extreme surprise.Chetwood looked down at his feet, tapped his head and finally pinchedhimself.
"Rather," he announced gravely. "At least my mortal body seems to be."
"Don't let me interrupt you," said Miss Jean. "I came to pick peas."
"I'll help you."
"I don't require help, thanks."
"You might get thorns in your fingers."
"Peas haven't thorns!" said Miss Jean scathingly. "You ought to knowthat by this time."
"Observation has taught me that in this world one finds thorns in themost unexpected places. Even roses--fragrant, blushing roses--"
"Don't be absurd!"
"Then let me help you pick peas."
"But the garden needs hoeing."
"The bally thing always needs hoeing," Chetwood commented with deepresentment. "It has an insatiable desire to be tickled with a hoe. Whata world it would be if weeds would die as easily as plants, and plantsthrive as carelessly as weeds. Bright thought, what?"
"Nonsense!" said Miss Jean.
"Oh, I say! It's really profound."
"It's profoundly silly. You had better stick to the hoe."
"My back is broken."
"Well," Miss Jean relented, "you may help me if you like."
On either side of tall vines trained on brush they began to pick thebig, fat Telephones. Now and then, in the tangle of the vines, theirfingers touched, as both reached for the same pod.
"This beats hoeing," Chetwood announced.
"I'm afraid you're lazy."
"I am. I always was. But to help a girl, especially a pret--"
"If you are going to be silly I shall go to the other end of the row."
"'O stay,' the young man said, 'and rest thy weary head up--'"
Miss Jean promptly picked up the pan and marched to the other end of therow. Chetwood followed her.
"They _are_ better here," he said. "It's a genuine pleasure to pick suchpeas together." Miss Jean did not reply. "Don't you like to pick peaswith me?"
"When you talk sensibly I don't object. There, the pan's full. Thanksvery much."
"And now we'll shell them."
"I'll take them to the house to shell."
"Please don't. Here is shade, running water, the company of anindustrious young man. You can't overlook a combination like that--ifyou have a heart."
"It _is_ nice shade," Miss Jean admitted.
They sat in it, the pan piled with peas between them, and began toshell. Miss Jean's hand diving for a pea, encountered Chetwood's and washeld fast.
"Mr. Chetwood!"
Without relinquishing his prize that gentleman set the pan aside andwith considerable agility seated himself beside Miss Jean.
"My full name is Eustace William Fitzroy Chetwood. I prefer the second.William is a respectable name. Do you know what it means?"
"I didn't know it meant anything."
"Oh, yes; it means 'Bill.' I answer beautifully to 'Bill.'"
"Will--"
"'Bill'!"
"Will you please let go my hand?"
"'What we have we hold' is a good motto. It seems a sound system to holdwhat I have."
Miss Jean sighed. "Then of course I can't shell peas, and you won't haveany for supper."
"Hang supper! Jean, darling, how long are you going to keep me insuspense?"
"I'm not keeping you at all; and you mustn't call me 'darling.'"
"Are you going to keep me waiting seven years, as Rebecca kept Joseph?"
"It wasn't Rebecca or Joseph."
"Well, it doesn't matter; I had the waiting part of it right. I can feelthe strain telling on me, and when I look into your eyes--like this--"
Here Miss Jean shut her eyes. Chetwood being human did the naturalthing. Miss Jean wrenched her hand away and rubbed her cheek.
"How dare you!" she demanded with really first-class indignation.
"I don't know; but like Warren Hastings, I am astonished at my ownmoderation. I should have kissed you before. And I am going to kiss youagain."
Though the prospect did not seem to dismay Miss Jean, she removedherself swiftly to a distance of several feet, and further consolidatedher position by placing the pan of peas between them.
"Shell peas--Eustace!" she said. Chetwood ground a set of perfect teeth.
"You want to drive me crazy, I see that," he said. "You're too dangerousto be running around loose. You need a firm hand--like mine. Now--"
What followed was very bad for the peas. Some minutes later Miss Jean,raising hands to a flushed face and sadly tilted hat, regarded them indismay.
"Now see what you've done!"
Chetwood grinned. "Will you carry sweet peas?" he asked. "If we aremarried early in September--"
"September!" Miss Jean gasped. "I couldn't think of such a thing,Bil--ly!"
"You can when you get used to it," Chetwood assured her. "Like gettinginto hot water, you know."
"It may be a good deal like it," Miss Jean observed reflectively.
"Eh! Oh, I didn't mean that."
"I know you didn't, but it might be true, all the same. We can't bemarried for a long time."
"Why can't we?" the lover demanded.
"For a number of perfectly good reasons," Jean replied, a grave littlepucker coming upon her forehead.
"Wrinkles!" cried Chetwood. "But I'll love you just as much when--"
"Well, goodness knows, I've enough worries without getting married."
"Cynic!"
"Maybe, but I hope I have some horse sense. Now to start with,Billy--and please don't be offended--I'd like you to make good, more orless, before I marry you."
"In what way?"
"Well, I'd like you to have a ranch of your own."
"Any special one?"
"Don't joke about it," Jean reproved him. "You'll find it seriousenough. As you haven't any money now you can't buy a ranch. And soyou'll have to homestead."
Chetwood stared at her for a moment and gulped. "I keep forgetting I'm ahired man. Go on."
"It's doing you good. You're getting a knowledge of ranching. I thinkyou know almost enough now to take up a homestead."
"But," Chetwood objected, "I'd have to live on the blinking thing in abeastly, lonely shack."
"Plenty of good men have lived in lonely shacks."
"I didn't mean that. I meant that I shouldn't see you more than perhapsfour or five times a week. Now--"
"You may not see me at all. I'll tell you why, presently. Anyway, Iwouldn't let you waste your time. I'm serious. You see, Billy--" hereMiss Jean blushed--"you'd be working on your homestead for--for _us_."
"Oh, Lord!" said Chetwood. "That is--I mean--yes, of course. Inspiringthought and all that sort of thing, what? But how much nicer it would beif I were able to look forward to seeing you in our humble door as Icame home weary from my daily toil, with--er--roses and honeysuckle andall that sort of thing clambering about don't you know, and the sweetodor of--of--"
"Of what, Billy?" Miss Jean prompted softly, in her eyes the expressionof one who gazes upon a fair mental picture. "Of what, Billy?"
"Of pies," Chetwood replied raptly. "Ah! Um!"
"Of wha--a--t!" Miss Jean cried, coming out of her reverie with a start.
"Of pies cooking," Chetwood repeated. "Nice, juicy pies."
"Pies--bah!" Miss Jean ejaculated.
"Say not so," Chetwood responded. "I admire pie. The land of my birth, Isadly ad
mit, is deficient in pie. But here I adopt the customs of thecountry. I am what might be called a pie--oneer--"
"Ugh! Awful!" Miss Jean shuddered.
"Now I thought that quite bright."
"That's the saddest part of it."
"My word, what a--er--slam! Strange that you should feel such a sincereaffection for--"
"I don't know whether I do or not!"
"Then, Miss Mackay," Chetwood demanded, "what is the meaning of yourconduct?"
Miss Jean bit her lip, blushed, and finally decided to laugh. "I wasgetting sentimental for a moment," she confessed. "Your little wordpicture had me going. And all the time you were fooling. That'sdangerous, young man."
"No, on my word I wasn't," Chetwood protested. "I meant it. Only I gotstuck for a word, and I just happened to think of--pie."
"I'm glad you did," Jean admitted. "What I like about you is that you'recheerful all the time. Angus sulks like a--a mule. So does Turkey. Oh, Ido, too. We all do. But you always have a smile and a joke, thoughsometimes they're awful."
"Both of 'em?"
"The smiles are all right," Jean admitted. "But do you know, I've neverseen you serious about anything. And it seems to me that a man who hasa--well, a real purpose in life should be--now and then."
"Perhaps I never had one."
"Well, now you've got me."
"Eh! By Jove, so I have. I'll live in a shack if you say so, but I'drather stay on here a bit. I'm learning all the time."
"That brings me to another reason. There may be no 'here' to stay onat--so far as we are concerned."
She told him the situation briefly. "And so, you see, we may not have aranch at all. Then Angus would go away and take up land, and I might gowith him."
"So would I if he'd have me. It would be rather jolly."
"Nonsense!" said Jean. "Making a new ranch isn't fun; it's hard work.And then, on top of it all, what do you think Angus is going to do?"
"Wring old Braden's neck, I hope."
"He's going to get married!"
"Hooray!" cried Chetwood. "Nail the flag to the mast! Derry walls and nosurrender! Give hostages--er--I mean that's the spirit. Also an example.Let's follow it. What's sauce for the Mackay gander ought to be saucefor--er--"
"I'm not a goose," she pouted prettily.
"Duck!" Chetwood suggested.
"Don't be silly. It's a different proposition entirely."
"Why?" Jean did not reply. "Why, Jean?"
"Because Angus can look after himself--and a wife."
Chetwood's perennially cheerful expression sobered. "That's rather ahard one. I'm not quite helpless, really."
"I'm sorry," Jean said simply. "But I meant just what I said. Thecountry is new to you and you're new to the country, and we can't bemarried till you find yourself. It wouldn't be fair to either of us. I'mputting it up to you to make good, Billy."
Chetwood nodded soberly, but his eyes smiled.
"I'll make good," he said. "I'll go and see this Judge Riley--about ahomestead. And now, Jean darling, will you oblige me by the size of thatpretty little third finger."
"You are not to spend any money on rings. Keep it for the homestead."
"Oh da--er--I mean high heaven hates a piker. Can't allow you to goringless. It's not done, really. I'm going to have my own way. Nothingelaborate. Just a simple, little ring, costing, say, fifty pounds--"
"Fifty pounds!" Jean gasped. "Two hundred and fifty dollars! Why, Icouldn't--"
"Does sound more in dollars. Tell you what I'll do. I have a ring athome. It belonged to my mother. I'll send for it if you don't mind."
"I should be proud of your mother's ring," said Jean.
"I think," said Chetwood, "that she would be proud to have you wear it."
"Billy," said Jean, "that's just the nicest thing you ever said--or everwill say."