Page:Comin' Thro' the Rye (1898).djvu/458

450 To-day it is Dolly's turn. The orchard being the universal high road to everywhere, we all have to cross it more or less often every day, and she, less spry than the rest of us, has evidently, after long and painful capers, returned to her present perch as a last refuge, while her pursuer, with a perseverance that speaks well for the intelligence of the genus mutton, has stretched himself out on the grass before her, leaving small hope of escape.

"Oh, Nell!" she exclaims, divided between wrath and tears, as I appear, "I have been up here more than an hour. I was beginning to think that I should be here till doomsday!"

"I'm coming," I say, approaching warily from the rear; for I have no notion of attracting Mr. Ram's delicate little attentions to my own defenceless legs.

"Can't you get him away?" cries Dolly, piteously.

Now, with the very best intentions in the world, it is pleasanter to see another person's knees buffeted than one's own; besides, I enjoyed the luxury no later than this morning, and I intend to make no efforts at assistance, save what are compatible with my own safety, so I answer somewhat faintly, "I'll try, Dolly," and hide myself carefully behind a tree.

This sneaking conduct does not at all meet Dolly's views, who, I know, wants to get me into the open, and then, while he is attacking me, make good her own escape. A nice little programme for her, but not quite so pleasant for me; so I think I will stay where I am.

"Well!" says Dolly, "I had no idea you were so mean! Now if you were up here"

"Yes?" I say, with a sisterly wink, "just so. I say, Dolly! have you tried smiling at him?"

"Nonsense!" she says.

"Nevertheless," I say—