Aunt Jane's Nieces at Millville
"
Beth conquered an inclination to smile.
"Won't you come in?" she said, sweetly.
"Thankee; I will. I'm Skimbley Clark, ye know; down t' the village. Ma
keeps a store there."
"I'm pleased to meet you, Mr. Clark. Allow me to introduce to you my
uncle and cousins," said the girl, her eyes dancing with amusement.
Skim acknowledged the introductions with intense gravity, and then sat
down upon a straight-backed chair near the piano, this being the end of
the room where the three girls were grouped. Uncle John gave a chuckle
and resumed his game with the Major, who whispered that he would give a
dollar for an oil painting of Mr. Clark--if it couldn't be had for less.
Louise laid down her book and regarded the visitor wonderingly. Patsy
scented fun and drew a chair nearer the group. Beth resumed her
embroidery with a demure smile that made Skim decide at once that "he
picked the pretty one."
Indeed, the decision did justice to his discretion. Beth De Graf was a
rarely beautiful girl and quite outshone her cousins in this respect.
Louise might be attractive and Patsy fascinating; but Beth was the real
beauty of the trio, and the most charming trait in her character was her
unconsciousness that she excelled in good looks.
So Skim stared hard at Beth, and answered the preliminary remarks
addressed to him by Patsy and Louise in a perfunctory manner.
"Won't you take off your gloves?" asked Louise, soberly. "It's so warm
this evening, you know."
The boy looked at his hands.
"It's sech a tarnal job to git 'em on agin," he replied.
"Don't put them on, then," advised Patsy. "Here in the country we are
allowed to dispense with much unnecessary social etiquette."
"Air ye? Then off they come. I ain't much stuck on gloves, myself; but
ma she 'lowed that a feller goin' courtin' orter look like a sport."
A chorus of wild laughter, which greeted this speech, had the effect of
making Skim stare at the girls indignantly. He couldn't find anything
funny in his remark; but there they sat facing him and uttering
hysterical peals of merriment, until the tears ran down their cheeks.
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There was once an honest journeyman tailor, by name Labakan, who learned his trade with an excellent master in Alexandria. It could not be said that Labakan was unhandy with the needle; on the contrary, he could make excellent work: moreover, one would have done him injustice to have called him lazy. Nevertheless, his companions knew not what to make of him, for he would often sew for hours together so rapidly that the needle would glow in his hand, and the thread smoke, and that none could equal him.
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