A Mountain Europa [30]
in a corner of the room, the attendants themselves took part in the dancing, and such dancing Clayton had never seen. Doors and windows were full of faces, and the room was crowded; from the kitchen came coarse laughter and the rattling of dishes.
Occasionally Hicks would disappear with several others, and would return with his face redder than ever.
Easter became uneasy. Once she left Clayton's side and expostulated with her father, but he shook her from his arm roughly. Raines saw this, and a moment later he led the old mountaineer from the room. Thereafter the latter was quieter, but only for a little while. Several times the kitchen was filled and emptied, and ever was the crowd unsteadier. Soon even Raines's influence was of no avail, and the bottle was passed openly from guest to guest.
"Whyn't ye dance?"
Clayton felt his arm grasped, and Hicks stood swaying before him.
"Whyn't ye dance?" he repeated. " Can't ye dance? Mebbe ye air too good-like Sherd. Well, Easter kin, Hyar, Mart, come 'n' dance with the gal. She air the best dancer in these parts."
Clayton had his hand upon Easter as though to forbid her. The mountaineer saw the movement, and his face flamed; but before he could speak, the girl pressed Clayton's arm, and, with an appealing glance, rose to her feet.
That's right," said her father, approvingly, but with a look of drunken malignancy toward Clayton. "Now," he called out, in a loud voice, "I want this couple to have the floor, 'n' everybody to look on 'n' see what is dancin'. Start the fiddles, boys."
It was dancing. The young mountaineer was a slender, active fellow, not without grace, and Easter seemed hardly to touch the floor. They began very slowly at first, till Easter, glancing aside at Clayton and seeing his face deepen with interest, and urged by the remonstrance of het father, the remarks of the onlookers, and the increasing abandon of the music, gave herself up to the dance. The young mountaineer was no mean partner. Forward and back they glided, their swift feet beating every note of the music; Faster receding before her partner, and now advancing toward him, now whirling away with a disdainful toss of her head and arms, and now giving him her hand and whirling till her white skirts floated from the floor. At last, with head bent coquettishly toward her partner, she danced around him, and when it seemed that she would be caught by his outstretched hands she slipped from his clasp, and, with burning cheeks, flashing eyes, and bridal wreath showering its pink-flecked petals about her, flew to Clayton's side.
Mebbe ye don't like that," cried Hicks, turning to Raines, who had been gravely watching the scene.
Raines said nothing in reply, but only looked the drunken man in the face.
"You two," he continued, indicating Clayton with an angry shake of his head, " air a-tryin' to spile ever'body's fun. Both of ye air too high-heeled fer us folks. Y'u hev got mighty good now that ye air a preacher," he added, with a drunken sneer, irritated beyond endurance by Raines's silence and his steady look. "I want ye to know Bill Hicks air a-runnin' things here, 'n' I don't want no meddlin'. I'll drink right here in front o' ye "-holding a bottle defiantly above his head-" 'n' I mean to dance, too, I warn ye now," he added, staggering toward the door, "I don't want no med-dlin'."
Easter had buried her face in her hands. Her mother stood near her husband, helplessly trying to get him away, and fearing to arouse him more. Raines was the most composed man in the room, and a few moments later, when dancing was resumed, Clayton heard his voice at his ear:
"You'd better go upstairs 'n' wait till it's time to go," he said. " He hev got roused ag'in ye, and ag'in me too. I'll keep out o' his way so as not to aggravate him, but I'll stay hyar fer fear something will happen. Mebbe he'll sober up a little, but I'm afeard he'll drink more'n ever."
A moment later, unseen by the rest, the two mounted the stairway to the little room where Easter's girlhood had been passed.
Occasionally Hicks would disappear with several others, and would return with his face redder than ever.
Easter became uneasy. Once she left Clayton's side and expostulated with her father, but he shook her from his arm roughly. Raines saw this, and a moment later he led the old mountaineer from the room. Thereafter the latter was quieter, but only for a little while. Several times the kitchen was filled and emptied, and ever was the crowd unsteadier. Soon even Raines's influence was of no avail, and the bottle was passed openly from guest to guest.
"Whyn't ye dance?"
Clayton felt his arm grasped, and Hicks stood swaying before him.
"Whyn't ye dance?" he repeated. " Can't ye dance? Mebbe ye air too good-like Sherd. Well, Easter kin, Hyar, Mart, come 'n' dance with the gal. She air the best dancer in these parts."
Clayton had his hand upon Easter as though to forbid her. The mountaineer saw the movement, and his face flamed; but before he could speak, the girl pressed Clayton's arm, and, with an appealing glance, rose to her feet.
That's right," said her father, approvingly, but with a look of drunken malignancy toward Clayton. "Now," he called out, in a loud voice, "I want this couple to have the floor, 'n' everybody to look on 'n' see what is dancin'. Start the fiddles, boys."
It was dancing. The young mountaineer was a slender, active fellow, not without grace, and Easter seemed hardly to touch the floor. They began very slowly at first, till Easter, glancing aside at Clayton and seeing his face deepen with interest, and urged by the remonstrance of het father, the remarks of the onlookers, and the increasing abandon of the music, gave herself up to the dance. The young mountaineer was no mean partner. Forward and back they glided, their swift feet beating every note of the music; Faster receding before her partner, and now advancing toward him, now whirling away with a disdainful toss of her head and arms, and now giving him her hand and whirling till her white skirts floated from the floor. At last, with head bent coquettishly toward her partner, she danced around him, and when it seemed that she would be caught by his outstretched hands she slipped from his clasp, and, with burning cheeks, flashing eyes, and bridal wreath showering its pink-flecked petals about her, flew to Clayton's side.
Mebbe ye don't like that," cried Hicks, turning to Raines, who had been gravely watching the scene.
Raines said nothing in reply, but only looked the drunken man in the face.
"You two," he continued, indicating Clayton with an angry shake of his head, " air a-tryin' to spile ever'body's fun. Both of ye air too high-heeled fer us folks. Y'u hev got mighty good now that ye air a preacher," he added, with a drunken sneer, irritated beyond endurance by Raines's silence and his steady look. "I want ye to know Bill Hicks air a-runnin' things here, 'n' I don't want no meddlin'. I'll drink right here in front o' ye "-holding a bottle defiantly above his head-" 'n' I mean to dance, too, I warn ye now," he added, staggering toward the door, "I don't want no med-dlin'."
Easter had buried her face in her hands. Her mother stood near her husband, helplessly trying to get him away, and fearing to arouse him more. Raines was the most composed man in the room, and a few moments later, when dancing was resumed, Clayton heard his voice at his ear:
"You'd better go upstairs 'n' wait till it's time to go," he said. " He hev got roused ag'in ye, and ag'in me too. I'll keep out o' his way so as not to aggravate him, but I'll stay hyar fer fear something will happen. Mebbe he'll sober up a little, but I'm afeard he'll drink more'n ever."
A moment later, unseen by the rest, the two mounted the stairway to the little room where Easter's girlhood had been passed.