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Updated: June 10, 2025
Colson, then, complaining of the rain, and wondering where he should get dried, I told him to consider not so much the happy English, but rather his poor scabbard and how he should clean it after the march, and his poor clothes, all coated with mud, and needing an hour's brushing, and his poor temper, which, if he did not take great care, would make him grow up to be an anti-militarist and a byword.
"Lucy, if you are really goin' to race I'll withdraw my hoss so you can win," said Wetherby, gallantly. Bostil's sonorous laugh rolled down the slope. "Miss Lucy, I sure hate to run a hoss against yours," said old Cal Blinn. Then Colson, Sticks, Burthwait, the other principals, paid laughing compliments to the bright-haired girl.
"I asked them to pick up my handkerchief, which had dropped, and 'Nimble Dick' said, 'Pick it up yourself, mum! you're as able to as we be! I wonder if they would remember it? What if I should tell them!" As she spoke the bit of cambric in her hand designedly dropped almost at the feet of Dirk Colson.
"The truth is," said he, "I think Dirk all the week, and on the Sabbath I find it impossible to reach up to 'Mr. Colson' without an effort." There was no touch of "reaching up" or reaching down, about Mrs. Roberts' talk with her pupils. It is possible that this is one link in the chain of influence which she was weaving around them.
No sun rose, but the day broke over an ugly plain with hardly any trees, and that grey and wretched dawn came in with a cold and dispiriting rain unrefreshed by wind. The army was for ever producing problems for Colson, and I was often his comforter. I could learn from him the meaning of many French words which I did not yet know.
"No," she explained; "but she had heard of him while inquiring where one of her boys lived, and she had called to see if she could help in any way. Dirk Colson was the boy who, they told her, lived near this place." The eyes of the trim sister brightened. "He lives on the next square," she said. "Oh, ma'am, are you his teacher, and do you care for him? I'm so glad."
"Did you ever hear of anybody like her before?" "Something's happened!" said Mart Colson, ignoring the reference to the mysterious pronoun, her voice so full of a new and strange meaning that had Sallie been acquainted with the word she might have said it was filled with awe. As it was, she only exclaimed, "What?" in an intensely interested tone. "Why, look here! I brought it along to show you."
"Oh, Barbara, how could you how could you miss last Thursday afternoon at Miss Colson's? We had a perfectly lovely time!" cried a vivacious member of the little group. "Yes indeed, young lady; explanations are in order," added another. "Miss Colson didn't like it a bit. She had an exquisite luncheon, and you know how people depend upon your appreciation of good things to eat!"
"I don't see that we can do anything for them at any time," he said, dismally. "What is an hour on Sunday, set against all the rest of the time? They go from the school-room to the rum saloons, and dawdle away the rest of the day. Yesterday I met that young Colson going into one of the worst saloons on Dey Street. They are not to blame, either." This last in a fiercer tone, after a slight pause.
Nimble Dick, as if to be revenged for his unintentional courtesy of the Monday before, placed his ill-kept feet on the seat in front of him, in alarming proximity to Mrs. Roberts' shoulders, and chewed his tobacco, and defiled the floor with its juice, and talked aloud, and was in every sense disgusting. Neither was Dirk Colson one whit behind him. The spirit of entertainment was upon him.
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