Homepage
Login
Profile
BookClubs
dmBox
Read Ebook: The Wishing Moon by Dutton Louise Elizabeth Shinn Everett Illustrator
Font size:
Background color:
Text color:
Add to tbrJar First Page Next Page Prev Page
Ebook has 1865 lines and 70881 words, and 38 pages
"To-night!"
Judith's voice thrilled. Willard stared at her. Her eyes looked wider than usual, and very bright. She was smiling a strange little smile, and a rare dimple, which he really believed she had made with a slate pencil, showed in her cheek. The light in her face was something new to him, something he did not understand, and therefore being of masculine mind, wished to remove.
"You're going to miss it to-night for one thing, kid," he stated deliberately.
"Oh, am I?" Judith dimpled and glowed.
"We're going to stay out until ten. Vivie's not going." Willard's big sister had chaperoned the expedition the year before. Now it was to go out unrestrained into the night.
"That's lovely."
Willard searched his brain for more overwhelming details.
"We've got a dark lantern."
"That's nice."
"I got it. It's father's. He won't miss it. It's hidden in the Drews' barn. We're going to meet at the Drews, to fool them. They'll be watching the Wards'."
"They will?"
"Sure."
"The--paddies?"
"Sure."
Judith drew an awed, ecstatic breath. He was touching now on the chief peril and charm of the expedition. Hanging May-baskets, conferring an elaborately-made gift upon a formal acquaintance, was not the object of it--nothing so philanthropic; it was the escape after you had hung them. You went out for adventure, to ring the bell and get away, to brave the dangers of the night in small, intimate companies. And the chief danger, which you fled from through the dark, was the paddies.
She did not know much about them. She would not show her ignorance by asking questions. But there were little boys with whom a state of war existed. They chased you, even fought with you, made a systematic attempt to steal your May-baskets. They were mixed up in her mind with gnomes and pirates. She was deliciously afraid of them. She hardly thought they had human faces. She understood that they were most of them Irish, and that it was somehow a disgrace for them to be Irish, though her own Norah was Irish and proud of it.
"Sure!" said Willard. "Irish boys. Paddies from Paddy Lane. Ed got a black eye last year. We'll get back at them. It will be some evening." Judith did not look jealous or wistful yet. "The whole crowd's going."
"Oh, Willard," he mimicked. Judith pronounced all the letters in his name, which was not the popular method. "Oh, Willard, what do you think I heard Viv say to the Gaynor girl about you?"
"Don't know. Willard, won't the paddies see the dark lantern?"
He broke off, discouraged. Judith did not appear to hear him. After the masculine habit, as he could not control the situation, he rose to leave.
"Well, so long, kid. I've got to go to the post-office."
Even the mention of this desirable rendezvous, which was denied to her because Mollie always brought home the evening mail in a black silk bag, did not dim the dancing light in Judith's eyes. She put a hand on his sleeve.
"Well, kid?"
"Willard, don't you wish I was going to-night?"
"What for, to fight the paddies, or carry the dark lantern?"
"I could fight," said Judith, with a little quiver in her voice, as if she could.
"Fight? You couldn't even run away. They'd"--Willard hissed it mysteriously--"they'd get you."
"No, they wouldn't, because"--something had happened to her eyes, so that they did not look tantalizing--"you'd take care of me, Willard," she announced surprisingly, "wouldn't you?"
"Forget it," murmured Willard, flattered.
"Wouldn't you?"
"Willard!"
"Yes."
"Well--I am. Father made mother let me. I'm going with you."
The words she had been trying to say were out at last in a hushed voice, because her heart was beating hard, but they sounded beautiful to her, like a kind of song. Perhaps Willard heard it, too. He really was her best friend, and he did not look so fat, after all, in the twilight. She waited breathlessly.
"You are?"
Judith nodded. She could not speak.
"Well!" Willard's feelings were mixed, his face was not fashioned to express a conflict of emotions, and words failed him, too. "You're a queer kid. Why didn't you tell me before?"
"Aren't you glad, Willard?"
"You'll get sleepy."
"Aren't you glad?"
"Sure I'm glad. But you can't run, and you are a cry-baby."
These were known facts, not insults, but now Judith's eyes had stopped dancing.
"Judy, are you mad with me?"
"No."
"You're the queerest kid." Up the street, he caught sight of a member of a simpler sex than Judith's. "There's Ed coming out of the gate. I've got to see him about something. See you later. Don't be mad. So long!"
The house was astir behind Judith. Father was opening and shutting doors, and hunting for things. Norah was helping mother into her wraps and scolding. Somebody was telephoning. Mother's carriage was late.
But it was turning into the yard now, a big, black hack from the Inn, with a white horse. Judith liked white horses best. The front door opened, and her father, very tall and blond, with his shirt-front showing white, and her mother, with something shiny in her black hair, swept out.
"Look who's here," said her father, and picked her up with his hands under her elbows. "Going to paint the town red to-night, son?"
"Red?" breathed Judith. How strong father was, and how beautiful mother was. She smelled of the perfume in the smallest bottle on the toilet-table. How kind they both were. "Red?"
"Harry, you see she doesn't care a thing about going. She'd be better off in bed. Careful, baby! Your hair is catching on my sequins. Put her down, Harry. You'll spoil the shape of her shoulders some day."
"Don't you want to go, son?"
Add to tbrJar First Page Next Page Prev Page