Lunette's comparison, though tragic, was not inapt.
"Here"--blind terror yielded to curiosity on many features--"here is Jennie Cossey's letter from her beau, down to New London, with a cardboard dagarrier in it. Yes," said Lunette, manipulating the envelope curiously and holding it to the light; "I knew 't the next thing he'd be sendin' his pictur'. How 'd you feel, Will Hunson, ef you was stan'in' in his shoes an' had gone an' combed yer hair 'tell yer arm ached, an' stuck the end o' yer hankercher outer yer pocket, an' had yer pictur' took, an' then sot down an' wrote a lot o' sweetness to wrop around it--an' when she took it out have it look like Injuns a-yellin' on the warpath!"
"Say, Lunette," said honest Will, his handsome face redder than any of the lively imageries she had called up to terrorize his conscience; "I got that front hair fascinater ye wanted, an' I sold the spruce gum for two dollars for ye. Look a' here!"
"Will Hunson, don't ye ride no more strawberry jam an' molarsses down here in the middle o' the United States Governmunt ag'in, will ye?" said Lunette, determined to fall gently.
But it appeared then that no blank was to be filled out and sent to Washington!
With a sharp yelp of joy Snipe sprang from behind the impregnable covert of my legs, and rushed out into the free and gladsome elements.
I gathered up my portion of matter from the illuminated heap of "government," beside the sand-peep pie on the table, and with a fond smile at Lunette I also departed.
Always now on the evening of post day, after I had read my newspapers, came the worn shawl and the dark, weary eyes--Vesty, to sit awhile with Miss Pray.
"Is there any news of Notely, Major Henry?"
Now and then I made her put the question, but oftener I was kind and volunteered any information on this subject that I had been able to glean; and at the news of joy or success for him, how her eyes glowed! Basin pure and great, with no thought for the shadow of her own lot--Vesty of the Basins.
"Is there any news of Notely, Major Henry?"
She was pinning the shawl at her throat after a short call, before going out; and she gave me her direct, reproachful look, as though I had been teasing her.
But I was not teasing her; my heart yearned over her where she stood, facing the dark.