The Methodist church stood on the slope of a little hill, back from the Main Road, and the parsonage was next door.Between the church and the parsonage was a stretch of lawn, dotted with shrubs and cedars and shaded by two big silver-leaf poplars.It was on this lawn that, provided the night was fair, the strawberry festival was to be held.If the weather should be unpropitious the festival was to be in the church vestry.
All that day Dorinda was busy baking and icing cake.She was not going to the festival--partly because I was going and she could not leave Mother--but principally because such affairs were altogether too frivolous to fit in her scheme of orthodoxy."I don't recollect," she said, "that the apostles did much strawberry festivalin'; they had other things to attend to." Lute, however, was going and if he had been invited to a Presidential reception he could not have been much more excited.He was dressed and ready at supper time, although the festival did not begin until seven-thirty.
"Think I'm all right, Dorindy, do you?" he queried, anxiously turning himself about for his wife's inspection."How about these new pants? Fur enough down on my boots, be they?"Dorinda looked him over with a critical eye."Um-hm," she observed, "that end of 'em seems to be all right.But I cal'late the upper end ain't been introduced to your vest yet.Anyhow, the two don't seem to be well enough acquainted to associate close."Lute bent forward to inspect the hiatus between trousers and waistcoat."By time!" he exclaimed, "I told Sim Eldredge they was too short in the waist.He said if they was any longer they'd wrinkle under the arms.I don't know what to do.If I hist 'em up they'll be what the fellers call high-water, won't them?""Humph! I'd ruther have 'em high-water than shoal in the middle of the channel.You'll have to average up somehow.I ought to have known better than to trust you to buy anything all by yourself."She condescended to approve of my appearance when, an hour later, Icame downstairs, garbed in my best.
"Humph!" she vouchsafed, after a long look."I declare! I'd hardly know you, Roscoe.You look more as you used to when you fust come here to live.""Thanks," I answered, drily."I'm glad to see that you respect old age.This suit is venerable enough to command that kind of respect.""'Tain't the suit, though that's all right enough.It's the way you wear it, I guess.You look BETTER than you used to.You're browned up and broadened out and it's real becomin'.But," she added, with characteristic caution, "you must remember that good looks don't count for much.My father used to say to me that handsome is that handsome does.Not that I was so homely I'd scare the crows, but he didn't want me to be vain.Now don't fall overboard in THAT suit, will you?"Mother noticed my unwonted grandeur when I went in to say good-night to her.
"Why, Roscoe!" she exclaimed."You must consider this strawberry festival very important.""Why, Mother?"
"Because you've taken such pains to dress for it.""It did not require a great deal of pains.I merely put on what Dorinda calls my Sunday clothes.I don't know why I did, either.
I certainly don't consider the festival important.""I am glad you did.I have been a little troubled about you of late, Boy.It has seemed to me that you were growing--well, not careless, exactly, but indifferent.As if you were losing interest in life.I don't blame you.Compelled to waste your time here in the country, a companion to a bedridden old woman like me.""Hush, Mother.You're not old; and as to wasting my time--why, Mother, you know--""Yes, yes, Boy, I know what you would say.But it does trouble me, nevertheless.I ought to bid you go back into the world, and take your place among men.A hundred times I have been upon the point of telling you to leave me, but--but--I am SO selfish.""Hush, Mother, please."
"Yes, I AM selfish and I know it.I am growing stronger every day;I am sure of it.Just a little longer, Roscoe, just a little longer, and then--""Mother, I--"
"There, there!" she stroked my hand."We won't be sad, will we.
It pleases me to see you taking an interest in affairs.I think this Shore Lane matter may be a good thing, after all.Dorinda says that Luther tells her you are becoming very popular in town because of your independent stand.Everyone recognizes your public spirit.""Did she tell you that?"
"Not in those words.You know Dorinda.But what amounts to that.
I am sure the Denboro people are very proud of you."I thought of my "popularity" and the admiration of my "public spirit" as manifested in the attentions of Captain Jed and Eldredge and their followers, and I turned my head away so that she might not see my face.
"And I am glad you are going to the strawberry festival.I can't remember when you attended such a function before.Boy--""Yes, Mother."
"There isn't any reason, any special reason, for your going, is there?""Why, what do you mean?"
"I mean--well, you are young and I did not know but, perhaps, some one else was going, some one you were interested in, and--and--"I laughed aloud."Mother!" I said, reproachfully.
"Why not? I am very proud of my handsome boy, and I know that--""There! there! I haven't noticed that my beauty is so fascinating as to be dangerous.No, Mother, there is no 'special reason' for my going to-night.I promised George Taylor, that was all.""Well, I am sure you will have a good time.Kiss me, Boy.Good-night."
I was by no means so sure of the good time.In fact, I loitered on my way to the village and it was well past eight o'clock when Ipaid my fifteen cents admission fee to Elnathan Mullet at the gate of the church grounds and sauntered up the slope toward the lights and gaiety of the strawberry festival.
The ladies of the Methodist society, under whose management the affair was given, were fortunate in their choice of an evening.
