THE COURTING OF DOLLY WHIDDON.

Otago Witness, Issue 3195, 9 June 1915, Page 86

THE COURTING OF DOLLY WHIDDON.

By Oxtweli. Bixxs

(Copyright.)

Mr Chris Sprackman was feeling very spry, and as he stepped jauntily down the road would have whistled from sheer gaiety of heart if it had not been toi the peppermint in his mouth. That, beino- of considerable size, made whistling impossible, but it did not prevent other forms of melody, and as he walked he hummed gaily to himself. O, will you accept of a mus-e-lin so blue. To wear all in the morning, and to dabble in dew ? No I will not accept

Something caught him on the back of the neck, something hard, which checked the song instantly, and, sending the pep- , permint the wrong way, brought him to the verge of disaster. Half-choked, he coughed to dislodge, the peppermint, and having succeeded in that, coughed still more, because he could not help ik At length the spasm passed, and as it did so he felt for his handkerchief in order to wipe the tears from his eyes. _ That done, with the handkerchief still in his hand, he looked round, to discover if possible what it was that had hit him oo unexpectedly, and so caused him to half * swallow the peppermint. He had not to look very far. When he turned the missile was almost under his feet a hard, unripe apple. As he marked spoke aloud to himself. ‘‘Now what tort of a vool can it be what do throw apples at a man, walking down-along of a Zunday ev A burst of feminine laughter broke on his words, and, looking up the bank on the right, he found the answer to his question, for in the fork of a gnarled appletree sat a comely girl, in a print muslin frock. She was munching at an apple that appeared little more ripe than the one which she had thrown at him, and as her teeth bit into the green rind, her eyes fixed on him were bright with laughter. As Chris Sprackman’s gaze fell on ~her, the natural exasperation, which he had been feeling, evaporated, and his cheerful face broke into a smile. “So,” he said slowly, “ ’tis you, Dolly Whiddon?” “Who else?” said the girl. .‘You didn’t think I was my grandmother, did you?” “No,” he answered as his smile broadened, “I didn’t think that; though you’re terr’ble like her in some ways. Pretty as an almanac, sharp of and as full o’ mischief as an egg is full o’ meat.” “Bless" us !” cried Dolly, her face dimpling with merriment, “you don’t mean to say my ''old grandmother’s like that? You’-d best not let her catch you saying it, or you’ll be wishin’ that bad cough you suffer from had bin the death o you, before she bear'd it. And speaking o’ that consumptive cough reminds me Chris Sprackman, you’d best look after it. It 11 be carrying you off one o’ ” that consumptive cough reminds me, Chris hastily. “It stuck in my windpipe an’ came near to chokin’ me, all along o that apple you threw' ” “Oh! Oh! That apple!” cried the girl, laughing. “It always seems to be an apple that causes trouble i’ this world!” Her eyes sparkled with sudden mischief. She glanced at the half-eaten apple in her hand, then quickly threw back her arm. “Duck!” she cried.

For safety’s sake Chris obeyed on the instant, and as he did so he heard the apple whizz past his head. The girl’s laughter rang like a peal of bells, and she stretched a hand towards a bough on which green fruit was hanging. But Chris Sprackman did _ not allow _ her to obtain fresh .ammunition. Knowing the advantage of the offensive, he charged straight for the hedge; and, recognising that the attack was serious and that to be caught up a tree was to be trapped, Dolly promptly slipped from her perch, dropped to the ground/ and began to run between the trees of the orchard. She was already well on her wav, when Chris scaled the bank, but he followed like a man very sure of his quarry. There was a gate at the far end of the orchard, and he made for that in order to head her off from the house. Succeeding in his purpose, he began to manoeuvre from tree to tree, and with laughter on her part and eagerness on his the chase continued.

Across the orchard, round the lichened trees, under boughs where the mistletoe berries were whitening, ran the maid, with Chris Sprackmann always at her heels, but never quite* up to her, and always trying to manoeuvre her into a corner. Once it seemed that he had succeeded, and with a deep laugh of delight he stretched out his hands to take her. But Dollv did not mean to be taken. She ducked, doubled suddenly, and, gaining a little by this trick, ran her quickest towards a point where a stile in the orchard hedge pave admission to the green water-meads. Straight on she ran, with Chris a good second, though losing ground as the chase lengthened. Across the field ,ran a slow stream in the miolst of which was a small island of withy bushes. The distance between the bank and the island was spanned by a narrow plank, hooked by a chain to a pole at either end. Before she stepped on it, Dolly cast loose the hook at the meadow' end, then flitted quicklv across to the island, and safely landed there, dragged the plank after her. The young man reach the river bank fust in time to see his end of the plank flop into the water, and as it. was dragged ashore on the farther side he heard Dolly’s quick laughter ring peal on peal. He laughed himself, and as be looked across the strip of water, and saw the flushed and laughing girl drying her hands

on her pocket handkerchief, he settled his course of action.

Seating himself on a fallen alder, he took out a pipe, slowly filled it, and. applying a match, puffed away in full enjoyment of the situation. From where he sat, he could see Dolly’s flushed face, under the yellowing leaves of the withers, and it afforded him considerable pleasure to see' that his action apparently caused her some disquietude. After the one glance that told him that, he looked way, thoughtfully considering the quiet rustic prospect, and smoking quietly, like a man who had most of time and all eternity in front of him. At first Dolly affected to be indifferent to his presence. Feeling in her dross pocket she drew forth one of the green apples for which she appeared to have an inordinate fondness, and, to show how little she cared, began to munch it. Vvith the tail of his eye, Chris saw her, and as her'white teeth broke through the crisp rind to the acid fruit, he shuddered.

“ Don’t, Dolly,” he said. “ Not an other! You’ll he making yom’self ill.”

“ Shouldn’t wonder,” she answered nonchalantly. “It’s awful damp here, an’ my shoes are that thin I can feel it through them already. . . . How long

are you going to keep me here?” Chris immediately disclaimed responsibility. “I’m not keeping you,” he said. “You’re keeping yourself, Dolly. You’re free to come to dry land what time you want, having that piece o’ timber on your side. I’m just sitting here to think out something. When I’ve done, I shall go away—perhaps !” The girl treated this explanation with the silent contempt that it deserved, and munched steadily away at the apple until it was little more than a core. This she threw at her gaolor, but, falling short, it “plopped” in the stream and was borne away. Chris still sat impassive, and finally the girl grew restive. “How long are you going to sit there?” she asked. “That something you’re thinking about must be a mortal ticklish thing.” “It is,” he answered slowly as he turned towards her. “I was wondering whether we had best be, married in September or wait till Christmas?”

“Did you say we, Chris Sprackman,” laughed the girl, “or did my ears deceive me?”

“Your ears didn’t deceive you, maidy,” answered Chris stolidly. “I said ‘we’.”

Dolly laughed again. “You’re joking, surelv ?”

“Never was more serious i’ my life,” was the reply. “I’ve been thinking o’ mentioning it for a bit, but I’ve never had so good a chance as this before.” / The girl turned aside from the main question, and cried: “You ought to be ashamed of yourself. You’re takin’ a mean advantage.” The young man shook his head. “All’s fair i’ love an’ war, or so I’ve heard. And I’m waiting here till you make up your mind. September or Christmas —you can just suit yourself, maidy.” “Thank you,” said Dolly sarcastically. “It’s awful nice of you to give ms my She broke off suddenly, and then gave a little laugh. “What’s up?” he asked. “I don’t think you’ll wait there until I’ve made up my mind. There’s my grandmother coming across from the orchard. I shouldn’t wonder if she isn’t looking for me!” As the girl’s laughter trilled Chris Sprackman looked round. It was quite true what Dolly raid. Old Mrs Whiddon was coming across the nelds, and apparently all his advantage was lost, flis mind reviewed the situation rapidly, and on the instant he changed his plans. The old lady saw him, and came towards him, smilingly. It was clear from the pleasure in her face that he was a favourite with her.

“Well met, Mrs Whiddon,” said Chris in a raised voice, for Dolly’s grandmother was more thaif a little deaf. “I was coming over to Biddlecomb to sea you to-night.” The old lady smiled shrewdly. “To see me or my granddaughter, Chris Sprackman?”

“To see you,” answered Chris stoutly. “I wanted to tell you that her an’ me are thinkin’ of being wed.” (“Oh you story-teller!”) The interjection came from the island, but in so low a voice that Mr Whiddon’s deaf ears never heard it.

“I’m very glad to hear it, Chris; very glad. Though I’ll own that I’m surprised that Dollv should have such good sense!” “Oh. Dolly’s all right. She’s more sense than vou think, Mrs Whiddon !”

(“Thank you!” came the voice from the island. “It’s tcrr’ble good of you to say so.”) “Maybe, maybe,” answered the old lady, then asked, “When are you thinkin’ of putting up the banns?” “Well, I was thinkin’ of havin’ them called i’ time for Christmas; but Dolly may want it earlier, and in that case

(“I shan’t!” came the voice again). “Don’t you spoil her, Chris, by letting her have too much of her own way.”

“I won’t,” answered Chris bravely. (“We’ll see about that!” was breathed softly across the water.) “I suppose you’re waiting for her here now, Chris?”

“I am,” answered Chris, quite truth fully.

“Then, as that’s the case, I’ll be moving on. I w*as young myself once. You can tell Dolly to bring you up to tea.” “Thank you, ma’am, I wall.” He watched the old lady move awmy across the meadow', then he turned to the island again. Dolly was standing there, her eyes dancing, her face very rosy. “If you think there’s anything in that nonsense you’ve been telling my grandmother. you’re mistaken, Chris Sprackman. There isn’t.” Chris ignored the statement. “When are you crossing over to dry land?” he asked. “It’s nearly tea-time.” “When you’re willing to give me twenty yards’ star/.” “You can have them,” he said, and

when she showed her trust in him by thrusting the plank across, he helped her by fastening it at his end. Light as a bird she tripped across, the roses blooming richly in her face, her eyes alight with mischievous challenge. He ignored it, however, and kept his word. Twenty yards he gave her, as he had --remised, and then began to run. . .

He overtook her in the orchard, as she halted under a gnarled apple tree, on which the mistletoe grew thick. “Christmas or next month, maidy?” ho asked as he gathered her in his arms. “Christmas,” she laughed. “The mistletoo’ll be ripe then!” And Christmas it was.