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Updated: June 4, 2025
"What if I'd kept on being a fool and hadn't come back at all, Girlie?" he asked softly, after a while. The schoolma'am shuddered eloquently in his arms. "It was sure lonesome it was hell out there alone," he observed, reminiscently. "It was sure h-hell back here alone, too," murmured a smothered voice which did not sound much like the clear, self-assertive tones of Miss Satterly.
Miss Satterly watched him gallop up the long slope and the pluckety pluckety of Glory's fleeing feet struck heavy, numbing blows upon her heart. She wondered why she had refused to ride with him, when she did want to go she did. And why had she been so utterly hateful, after waiting and watching, night after night, for him to come? And just how much did he mean by being due to drift?
"You surely should be a good judge," remarked Miss Satterly, irritated because she knew he was teasing. Weary was quick to read the signs. "What did you mean, a while back, about me sneaking away from Chadville? And how did yuh happen to have your dances booked forty-in-advance, the other night? And what makes yuh so mean to me, lately?
Miss Forsyth laughed that sort of laugh which may mean anything you like. "Knew him? Why, we were en that is, we grew up in the same town. I was so perfectly amazed to find him here, poor fellow." "Why poor fellow?" asked Miss Satterly, the direct. "Because you found him? or because he is here?" The long eyes regarded her curiously. "Why, don't you know? Hasn't hasn't it followed him?"
Miss Satterly, not replying a word, kept straight on up the hill; and Weary, sighing heavily, followed. "Don't you want to ride Glory a ways? He's real good, to-day. He put in the whole of yesterday working out all the cussedness that's been accumulating in his system for a week, so he's dead gentle. I'll lead him, for yuh." "Thank you," said Miss Satterly. "I prefer to walk."
After five minutes of low-toned monologue on the part of the schoolma'am, Happy Jack went the way of his predecessors and also became scared and unhappy. "Aw, say! Miss Satterly, I can't act," he protested in a panic. "Oh, yes, you could," declared the schoolma'am, with sweet assurance, "if you only thought so." "Aw, I couldn't get up before a crowd and say a piece, not if "
For the first time since the day of his spectacular introduction to her, Miss Satterly displayed absolutely no interest in the eccentricities of Glory. Slowly it began to dawn upon Weary that she did not intend to thaw that evening. He glanced at her sidelong, and his eyes had a certain gleam that was not there five minutes before.
The shadows flowed into the coulee until it was full to the brim and threatening the golden hilltop with a brown veil of shade before Miss Satterly locked her door and went home. When she reached her aunt Meeker's she did not want any supper and she said her head ached. But that was not quite true; it was not her head that ached so much; it was her heart.
Weary, taken by surprise and encumbered by the box, could not argue the point; he could only, in range parlance, "hang and rattle." "Oh," cried Miss Satterly, "if he's going to act like that, give me the box." Weary would like to have done so, but already he was half way to the gate, and his coat was standing straight out behind to prove the speed of his flight. He could not even look back.
She smiled confidingly down at the schoolma'am and went off to waltz with Bert Rogers, apparently quite satisfied with what she had accomplished. Miss Satterly sat very still, scarce thinking consciously. She stared at Weary and tried to imagine him a fugitive from his native town, and in spite of herself wondered what it was he had done.
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