The Wiving of Lance Cleaverage

								

then," Hands encroached eagerly.
With negligent composure Callista looked about her. She was not
willing to walk with Lance--she doubted if he would ask her
again. She was not willing to discredit him and go with Hands.
She was determined that Cleaverage should not walk with another
girl.
"Come on, Ola," she coolly addressed the figure plainly to be
seen behind Hands. "Let's you and me hurry over and see what
hymns Brother Drumright is going to use. You sing mighty good
counter, and I'd like to have you next to me."
Ola Derf could not refuse. It was almost equal to social
rehabilitation to be allowed to walk with Callista Gentry from
the spring to the church, to [16] sit beside her in the singing
seats; yet the brown girl cast uneasy glances backward till she
saw Lance, whistling melodiously, turn to the blooming azalea
bush and catch up his banjo from it. She stopped in her tracks,
holding Callista back.
"Whar--whar ye gwine, Lance?" she inquired anxiously. If
Cleaverage was not coming to church it would scarcely be worth
while for her to torture herself with an hour of old Preacher
Drumright's holding forth. "Whar ye gwine?" she reiterated, as
the other girl pulled her sleeve and attempted to hurry on.
"Whar you and Callista ca'n't come," returned Lance, speaking
over his shoulder unceremoniously.
"Ain't ye gwine to stay to preachin'?" persisted the brown girl.
"I--I thought ye was, or I--ain't ye gwine to stay?"
"No," drawled Cleaverage. "I just brought the banjo to please
Callista--because I promised her I would, when she begged me to.
I had no notion of staying to listen to Drumright."
"Come on--if you're a-coming," Callista admonished the Derf
girl with a little flash of temper which Lance did not fail to
observe, any more than she missed the chuckle with which he
received it.
"Well, I'm a-goin' with ye," announced Ola. She let go
Callista's arm, and turned back to where Lance was taking a
shadowy path into the forest.
"I told you, gals couldn't come," Cleaverage bantered her. But
Ola persisted. [17]
"I can go wherever you can go. Lance--wait! Wait for me--I'm
a-comin'."
"Callista'll be mad," objected Cleaverage. "She begged and
begged me, and I wouldn't leave her come along of me; now if I
take you, she'll be mad."
"Like I cared where you went or who went with you!" Callista
retorted, eyes shining blue fire, head crested. "Come on, Mr.
Hands, it's time we were stepping, if we want to get in to go
through the hymns."
"And you will sit alongside of me?" Hands's voice pleaded close
to her ear.
Ola and Lance were of the same age; the blond girl, lingering
half indignant, could remember how hardy, free little Ola Derf
used to play with the boys, always singling Lance Cleaverage out
as the companion for her truant expeditions. Now in mute denial
of Hands's petition, Callista shook her head, and in doing so
managed to glance round and get a tormenting glimpse of Ola and