"Well, if you were you wouldn't make a great hit with your grandfather, would you?""Eh?...Oh, you mean because I smoke.Say, YOU'RE not silly enough to be down on cigarettes the way grandfather is, are you?""No-o, I'm not down on them, especially.I'm not very well acquainted with them.""Neither is he.He never smoked one in his life.It's just country prejudice, that's all.""Well, I live in the country, too, you know.""Yes, but you're different."
"How do you know I am?"
"Oh, because any one can see you are." The manner in which this remark was made, a manner implying a wide knowledge of humanity and a hint of personal interest and discriminating appreciation, had been found quite effective by the precocious young gentleman uttering it.With variations to suit the case and the individual it had been pleasantly received by several of the Misses Bradshaw's pupils.He followed it with another equally tried and trustworthy.
"Say," he added, "would YOU rather I didn't smoke?"The obvious reply should have been, "Oh, would you stop if I asked you to?" But Helen Kendall was a most disconcerting girl.Instead of purring a pleased recognition of the implied flattery, she laughed merrily.The Speranza dignity was hurt.
"What is there to laugh at?" he demanded."Are you laughing at me?"The answer was as truthful as truth itself.
"Why, of course I am," she replied; and then completed his discomfiture by adding, "Why should I care whether you smoke or not? You had better ask your grandfather that question, I should think."Now Alberto Miguel Carlos Speranza had not been accustomed to this sort of treatment from young persons of the other sex, and he walked away in a huff.But the unusual is always attractive, and the next time he and Miss Kendall met he was as gracious and cordial as ever.But it was not long before he learned that the graciousness was, in her case, a mistake.Whenever he grew lofty, she took him down, laughed at him with complete frankness, and refused to treat him as anything but a boy.So they gradually grew friendly, and when they met at parties or church socials he spent most of the time in her company, or, rather, he would have so spent it had she permitted.But she was provokingly impartial and was quite as likely to refuse a dance with him to sit out one with Sam Thatcher or Ben Hammond or any other village youth of her acquaintance.However, although she piqued and irritated him, he was obliged to admit to his inner consciousness that she was the most interesting person he had yet discovered in South Harniss, also that even in the eyes of such connoisseurs as his fellow members of the senior class at school she would have been judged a "good looker," in spite of her country clothes.
He met her father, of course.The Reverend Mr.Kendall was a dreamy little old gentleman with white hair and the stooped shoulders of a student.Everybody liked him, and it was for that reason principally that he was still the occupant of the Congregational pulpit, for to quote Captain Zelotes, his sermons were inclined to be like the sandy road down to Setuckit Point, "ten mile long and dry all the way." He was a widower and his daughter was his companion and managing housekeeper.There was a half-grown girl, one of the numerous Price family, a cousin of Issachar's, who helped out with the sweeping, dish-washing and cooking, but Helen was the real head of the household.
"And she's a capable one, too," declared Mrs.Snow, when at supper one evening Helen's name had come into the conversation."Ideclare when I was there yesterday to see the minister about readin' poetry to us at sewin'-circle next Monday that parlor was as neat as wax.And 'twas all Helen's work that kept it so, that was plain enough.You could see her way of settin' a vase or puttin' on a table cloth wherever you looked.Nobody else has just that way.And she does it after school or before school or 'most any odd time.And whatever 'tis is done right."The housekeeper put in a word."There's no doubt about that," she said, "and there ain't any more doubt that she don't get much help from her pa or that Maria B." There were so many Prices within the township limits that individuals were usually distinguished by their middle initial."As for Mr.Kendall," went on Rachel, "he moves with his head in the clouds and his feet cruisin' with nobody at the wheel two-thirds of the time.Emma Smith says to me yesterday, says she, 'Mr.Kendall is a saint on earth, ain't he,'
says she.'Yes,' says I, 'and he'll be one in heaven any minute if he goes stumblin' acrost the road in front of Doctor Holliday's automobile the way I see him yesterday.' The doctor put on the brakes with a slam and a yell.The minister stopped right there in the middle of the road with the front wheels of that auto not MORE'N two foot from his old baggy trousers' knees, and says he, 'Eh? Did you want me, Doctor?' The doctor fetched a long breath.
'Why, no, Mr.Kendall,' he says, 'I didn't, but I come darn nigh gettin' you.' I don't know what WOULD become of him if he didn't have Helen to look out for him."As they came to know each other better their conversation dealt with matters more personal.They sometimes spoke of plans for the future.Albert's plans and ambitions were lofty, but rather vague.
Helen's were practical and definite.She was to graduate from high school that spring.Then she was hoping to teach in the primary school there in the village; the selectmen had promised her the opportunity.
"But, of course," she said, "I don't mean to stay here always.
When I can, after I have saved some money and if Father doesn't need me too badly, I shall go away somewhere, to Bridgewater, or perhaps to Radcliffe, and study.I want to specialize in my teaching, you know."Albert regarded her with amused superiority.
"I don't see why on earth you are so anxious to be a school-marm,"1
