"In the cellar," answered Hilma."Down here, see?" She raised the flap of the cellar door at the end of the room."Would you like to see? Come down; I'll show you."She went before him down into the cool obscurity underneath, redolent of new cheese and fresh butter.Annixter followed, a certain excitement beginning to gain upon him.He was almost sure now that Hilma wanted him to kiss her.At all events, one could but try.But, as yet, he was not absolutely sure.Suppose he had been mistaken in her; suppose she should consider herself insulted and freeze him with an icy stare.Annixter winced at the very thought of it.Better let the whole business go, and get to work.He was wasting half the morning.Yet, if she DIDwant to give him the opportunity of kissing her, and he failed to take advantage of it, what a ninny she would think him; she would despise him for being afraid.He afraid! He, Annixter, afraid of a fool, feemale girl.Why, he owed it to himself as a man to go as far as he could.He told himself that that goat Osterman would have kissed Hilma Tree weeks ago.To test his state of mind, he imagined himself as having decided to kiss her, after all, and at once was surprised to experience a poignant qualm of excitement, his heart beating heavily, his breath coming short.
At the same time, his courage remained with him.He was not afraid to try.He felt a greater respect for himself because of this.His self-assurance hardened within him, and as Hilma turned to him, asking him to taste a cut from one of the ripe cheeses, he suddenly stepped close to her, throwing an arm about her shoulders, advancing his head.
But at the last second, he bungled, hesitated; Hilma shrank from him, supple as a young reed; Annixter clutched harshly at her arm, and trod his full weight upon one of her slender feet, his cheek and chin barely touching the delicate pink lobe of one of her ears, his lips brushing merely a fold of her shirt waist between neck and shoulder.The thing was a failure, and at once he realised that nothing had been further from Hilma's mind than the idea of his kissing her.
She started back from him abruptly, her hands nervously clasped against her breast, drawing in her breath sharply and holding it with a little, tremulous catch of the throat that sent a quivering vibration the length of her smooth, white neck.Her eyes opened wide with a childlike look, more of astonishment than anger.She was surprised, out of all measure, discountenanced, taken all aback, and when she found her breath, gave voice to a great "Oh" of dismay and distress.
For an instant, Annixter stood awkwardly in his place, ridiculous, clumsy, murmuring over and over again:
"Well--well--that's all right--who's going to hurt you? You needn't be afraid--who's going to hurt you--that's all right."Then, suddenly, with a quick, indefinite gesture of one arm, he exclaimed:
"Good-bye, I--I'm sorry."
He turned away, striding up the stairs, crossing the dairy-room, and regained the open air, raging and furious.He turned toward the barns, clapping his hat upon his head, muttering the while under his breath:
"Oh, you goat! You beastly fool PIP.Good LORD, what an ass you've made of yourself now!"Suddenly he resolved to put Hilma Tree out of his thoughts.The matter was interfering with his work.This kind of thing was sure not earning any money.He shook himself as though freeing his shoulders of an irksome burden, and turned his entire attention to the work nearest at hand.
The prolonged rattle of the shinglers' hammers upon the roof of the big barn attracted him, and, crossing over between the ranch house and the artesian well, he stood for some time absorbed in the contemplation of the vast building, amused and interested with the confusion of sounds--the clatter of hammers, the cadenced scrape of saws, and the rhythmic shuffle of planes--that issued from the gang of carpenters who were at that moment putting the finishing touches upon the roof and rows of stalls.
A boy and two men were busy hanging the great sliding door at the south end, while the painters--come down from Bonneville early that morning--were engaged in adjusting the spray and force engine, by means of which Annixter had insisted upon painting the vast surfaces of the barn, condemning the use of brushes and pots for such work as old-fashioned and out-of-date.
He called to one of the foremen, to ask when the barn would be entirely finished, and was told that at the end of the week the hay and stock could be installed.
"And a precious long time you've been at it, too," Annixter declared.
"Well, you know the rain----"
"Oh, rot the rain! I work in the rain.You and your unions make me sick.""But, Mr.Annixter, we couldn't have begun painting in the rain.
The job would have been spoiled."
"Hoh, yes, spoiled.That's all very well.Maybe it would, and then, again, maybe it wouldn't."But when the foreman had left him, Annixter could not forbear a growl of satisfaction.It could not be denied that the barn was superb, monumental even.Almost any one of the other barns in the county could be swung, bird-cage fashion, inside of it, with room to spare.In every sense, the barn was precisely what Annixter had hoped of it.In his pleasure over the success of his idea, even Hilma for the moment was forgotten.
"And, now," murmured Annixter, "I'll give that dance in it.I'll make 'em sit up."It occurred to him that he had better set about sending out the invitations for the affair.He was puzzled to decide just how the thing should be managed, and resolved that it might be as well to consult Magnus and Mrs.Derrick.
