The Third Violet

by Stephen Crane

  As Hawker and Miss Fanhall proceeded slowly they heard a voice ringingthrough the foliage: "Whoa! Haw! Git-ap, blast you! Haw! Haw, drat yourhides! Will you haw? Git-ap! Gee! Whoa!"

  Hawker said, "The others are a good ways ahead. Hadn't we better hurry alittle?"

  The girl obediently mended her pace.

  "Whoa! haw! git-ap!" shouted the voice in the distance. "Git over there,Red, git over! Gee! Git-ap!" And these cries pursued the man and themaid.

  At last Hawker said, "That's my father."

  "Where?" she asked, looking bewildered.

  "Back there, driving those oxen."

  The voice shouted: "Whoa! Git-ap! Gee! Red, git over there now, willyou? I'll trim the shin off'n you in a minute. Whoa! Haw! Haw! Whoa!Git-ap!"

  Hawker repeated, "Yes, that's my father."

  "Oh, is it?" she said. "Let's wait for him."

  "All right," said Hawker sullenly.

  Presently a team of oxen waddled into view around the curve of the road.They swung their heads slowly from side to side, bent under the yoke,and looked out at the world with their great eyes, in which was a mysticnote of their humble, submissive, toilsome lives. An old wagon creakedafter them, and erect upon it was the tall and tattered figure of thefarmer swinging his whip and yelling: "Whoa! Haw there! Git-ap!" Thelash flicked and flew over the broad backs of the animals.

  "Hello, father!" said Hawker.

  "Whoa! Back! Whoa! Why, hello, William, what you doing here?"

  "Oh, just taking a walk. Miss Fanhall, this is my father. Father----"

  "How d' you do?" The old man balanced himself with care and then raisedhis straw hat from his head with a quick gesture and with what wasperhaps a slightly apologetic air, as if he feared that he was ratherover-doing the ceremonial part.

  The girl later became very intent upon the oxen. "Aren't they nice oldthings?" she said, as she stood looking into the faces of the team."But what makes their eyes so very sad?"

  "I dunno," said the old man.

  She was apparently unable to resist a desire to pat the nose of thenearest ox, and for that purpose she stretched forth a cautious hand.But the ox moved restlessly at the moment and the girl put her handapprehensively behind herself and backed away. The old man on the wagongrinned. "They won't hurt you," he told her.

  "They won't bite, will they?" she asked, casting a glance of inquiry atthe old man and then turning her eyes again upon the fascinatinganimals.

  "No," said the old man, still grinning, "just as gentle as kittens."

  She approached them circuitously. "Sure?" she said.

  "Sure," replied the old man. He climbed from the wagon and came to theheads of the oxen. With him as an ally, she finally succeeded in pattingthe nose of the nearest ox. "Aren't they solemn, kind old fellows? Don'tyou get to think a great deal of them?"

  "Well, they're kind of aggravating beasts sometimes," he said. "Butthey're a good yoke--a good yoke. They can haul with anything in thisregion."

  "It doesn't make them so terribly tired, does it?" she said hopefully."They are such strong animals."

  "No-o-o," he said. "I dunno. I never thought much about it."

  With their heads close together they became so absorbed in theirconversation that they seemed to forget the painter. He sat on a log andwatched them.

  Ultimately the girl said, "Won't you give us a ride?"

  "Sure," said the old man. "Come on, and I'll help you up." He assistedher very painstakingly to the old board that usually served him as aseat, and he clambered to a place beside her. "Come on, William," hecalled. The painter climbed into the wagon and stood behind his father,putting his hand on the old man's shoulder to preserve his balance.

  "Which is the near ox?" asked the girl with a serious frown.

  "Git-ap! Haw! That one there," said the old man.

  "And this one is the off ox?"

  "Yep."

  "Well, suppose you sat here where I do; would this one be the near oxand that one the off ox, then?"

  "Nope. Be just same."

  "Then the near ox isn't always the nearest one to a person, at all? Thatox there is always the near ox?"

  "Yep, always. 'Cause when you drive 'em a-foot you always walk on theleft side."

  "Well, I never knew that before."

  After studying them in silence for a while, she said, "Do you think theyare happy?"

  "I dunno," said the old man. "I never thought." As the wagon creaked onthey gravely discussed this problem, contemplating profoundly the backsof the animals. Hawker gazed in silence at the meditating two beforehim. Under the wagon Stanley, the setter, walked slowly, wagging histail in placid contentment and ruminating upon his experiences.

  At last the old man said cheerfully, "Shall I take you around by theinn?"

  Hawker started and seemed to wince at the question. Perhaps he was aboutto interrupt, but the girl cried: "Oh, will you? Take us right to thedoor? Oh, that will be awfully good of you!"

  "Why," began Hawker, "you don't want--you don't want to ride to the innon an--on an ox wagon, do you?"

  "Why, of course I do," she retorted, directing a withering glance athim.

  "Well----" he protested.

  "Let 'er be, William," interrupted the old man. "Let 'er do what shewants to. I guess everybody in th' world ain't even got an ox wagon toride in. Have they?"

  "No, indeed," she returned, while withering Hawker again.

  "Gee! Gee! Whoa! Haw! Git-ap! Haw! Whoa! Back!"

  After these two attacks Hawker became silent.

  "Gee! Gee! Gee there, blast--s'cuse me. Gee! Whoa! Git-ap!"

  All the boarders of the inn were upon its porches waiting for the dinnergong. There was a surge toward the railing as a middle-aged woman passedthe word along her middle-aged friends that Miss Fanhall, accompaniedby Mr. Hawker, had arrived on the ox cart of Mr. Hawker's father.

  "Whoa! Ha! Git-ap!" said the old man in more subdued tones. "Whoa there,Red! Whoa, now! Wh-o-a!"

  Hawker helped the girl to alight, and she paused for a moment conversingwith the old man about the oxen. Then she ran smiling up the steps tomeet the Worcester girls.

  "Oh, such a lovely time! Those dear old oxen--you should have been withus!"

  CHAPTER XV.

  "Oh, Miss Fanhall!"

  "What is it, Mrs. Truscot?"

  "That was a great prank of yours last night, my dear. We all enjoyed thejoke so much."

  "Prank?"

  "Yes, your riding on the ox cart with that old farmer and that young Mr.What's-his-name, you know. We all thought it delicious. Ah, my dear,after all--don't be offended--if we had your people's wealth andposition we might do that sort of unconventional thing, too; but, ah, mydear, we can't, we can't! Isn't the young painter a charming man?"

  Out on the porch Hollanden was haranguing his friends. He heard a stepand glanced over his shoulder to see who was about to interrupt him. Hesuddenly ceased his oration, and said, "Hello! what's the matter withGrace?" The heads turned promptly.

  As the girl came toward them it could be seen that her cheeks were verypink and her eyes were flashing general wrath and defiance.

  The Worcester girls burst into eager interrogation. "Oh, nothing!" shereplied at first, but later she added in an undertone, "That wretchedMrs. Truscot----"

  "What did she say?" whispered the younger Worcester girl.

  "Why, she said--oh, nothing!"

  Both Hollanden and Hawker were industriously reflecting.

  Later in the morning Hawker said privately to the girl, "I know whatMrs. Truscot talked to you about."

  She turned upon him belligerently. "You do?"

  "Yes," he answered with meekness. "It was undoubtedly some reference toyour ride upon the ox wagon."

  She hesitated a moment, and then said, "Well?"

  With still greater meekness he said, "I am very sorry."

  "Are you, indeed?" she inquired loftily. "Sorry for what? Sorry that Irode upon your father's ox wagon, or sorry that Mrs. Tru
scot was rudeto me about it?"

  "Well, in some ways it was my fault."

  "Was it? I suppose you intend to apologize for your father's owning anox wagon, don't you?"

  "No, but----"

  "Well, I am going to ride in the ox wagon whenever I choose. Yourfather, I know, will always be glad to have me. And if it so shocks you,there is not the slightest necessity of your coming with us."

  They glowered at each other, and he said, "You have twisted the questionwith the usual ability of your sex."

  She pondered as if seeking some particularly destructive retort. Sheended by saying bluntly, "Did you know that we were going home nextweek?"

  A flush came suddenly to his face. "No. Going home? Who? You?"

  "Why, of course." And then with an indolent air she continued, "I meantto have told you before this, but somehow it quite escaped me."

  He stammered, "Are--are you, honestly?"

  She nodded. "Why, of course. Can't stay here forever, you know."

  They were then silent for a long time.

  At last Hawker said, "Do you remember what I told you yesterday?"

  "No. What was it?"

  He cried indignantly, "You know very well what I told you!"

  "I do not."

  "No," he sneered, "of course not! You never take the trouble to remembersuch things. Of course not! Of course not!"

  "You are a very ridiculous person," she vouchsafed, after eying himcoldly.

  He arose abruptly. "I believe I am. By heavens, I believe I am!" hecried in a fury.

  She laughed. "You are more ridiculous now than I have yet seen you."

  After a pause he said magnificently, "Well, Miss Fanhall, you willdoubtless find Mr. Hollanden's conversation to have a much greaterinterest than that of such a ridiculous person."

  Hollanden approached them with the blithesome step of an untroubled man."Hello, you two people, why don't you--oh--ahem! Hold on, Billie, whereare you going?"

  "I----" began Hawker.

  "Oh, Hollie," cried the girl impetuously, "do tell me how to do thatslam thing, you know. I've tried it so often, but I don't believe I holdmy racket right. And you do it so beautifully."

  "Oh, that," said Hollanden. "It's not so very difficult. I'll show it toyou. You don't want to know this minute, do you?"

  "Yes," she answered.

  "Well, come over to the court, then. Come ahead, Billie!"

  "No," said Hawker, without looking at his friend, "I can't this morning,Hollie. I've got to go to work. Good-bye!" He comprehended them both ina swift bow and stalked away.

  Hollanden turned quickly to the girl. "What was the matter with Billie?What was he grinding his teeth for? What was the matter with him?"

  "Why, nothing--was there?" she asked in surprise.

  "Why, he was grinding his teeth until he sounded like a stone crusher,"said Hollanden in a severe tone. "What was the matter with him?"

  "How should I know?" she retorted.

  "You've been saying something to him."

  "I! I didn't say a thing."

  "Yes, you did."

  "Hollie, don't be absurd."

  Hollanden debated with himself for a time, and then observed, "Oh, well,I always said he was an ugly-tempered fellow----"

  The girl flashed him a little glance.

  "And now I am sure of it--as ugly-tempered a fellow as ever lived."

  "I believe you," said the girl. Then she added: "All men are. I declare,I think you to be the most incomprehensible creatures. One never knowswhat to expect of you. And you explode and go into rages and makeyourselves utterly detestable over the most trivial matters and at themost unexpected times. You are all mad, I think."

  "I!" cried Hollanden wildly. "What in the mischief have I done?"

  CHAPTER XVI.

  "Look here," said Hollanden, at length, "I thought you were sowonderfully anxious to learn that stroke?"

  "Well, I am," she said.

  "Come on, then." As they walked toward the tennis court he seemed to beplunged into mournful thought. In his eyes was a singular expression,which perhaps denoted the woe of the optimist pushed suddenly from itsheight. He sighed. "Oh, well, I suppose all women, even the best ofthem, are that way."

  "What way?" she said.

  "My dear child," he answered, in a benevolent manner, "you havedisappointed me, because I have discovered that you resemble the rest ofyour sex."

  "Ah!" she remarked, maintaining a noncommittal attitude.

  "Yes," continued Hollanden, with a sad but kindly smile, "even you,Grace, were not above fooling with the affections of a poor countryswain, until he don't know his ear from the tooth he had pulled twoyears ago."

  She laughed. "He would be furious if he heard you call him a countryswain."

  "Who would?" said Hollanden.

  "Why, the country swain, of course," she rejoined.

  Hollanden seemed plunged in mournful reflection again. "Well, it's ashame, Grace, anyhow," he observed, wagging his head dolefully. "It's ahowling, wicked shame."

  "Hollie, you have no brains at all," she said, "despite your opinion."

  "No," he replied ironically, "not a bit."

  "Well, you haven't, you know, Hollie."

  "At any rate," he said in an angry voice, "I have some comprehension andsympathy for the feelings of others."

  "Have you?" she asked. "How do you mean, Hollie? Do you mean you havefeeling for them in their various sorrows? Or do you mean that youunderstand their minds?"

  Hollanden ponderously began, "There have been people who have notquestioned my ability to----"

  "Oh, then, you mean that you both feel for them in their sorrows andcomprehend the machinery of their minds. Well, let me tell you that inregard to the last thing you are wrong. You know nothing of anyone'smind. You know less about human nature than anybody I have met."

  Hollanden looked at her in artless astonishment. He said, "Now, I wonderwhat made you say that?" This interrogation did not seem to be addressedto her, but was evidently a statement to himself of a problem. Hemeditated for some moments. Eventually he said, "I suppose you mean thatI do not understand you?"

  "Why do you suppose I mean that?"

  "That's what a person usually means when he--or she--charges anotherwith not understanding the entire world."

  "Well, at any rate, it is not what I mean at all," she said. "I meanthat you habitually blunder about other people's affairs, in the belief,I imagine, that you are a great philanthropist, when you are only makingan extraordinary exhibition of yourself."

  "The dev----" began Hollanden. Afterward he said, "Now, I wonder whatin blue thunder you mean this time?"

  "Mean this time? My meaning is very plain, Hollie. I supposed the wordswere clear enough."

  "Yes," he said thoughtfully, "your words were clear enough, but then youwere of course referring back to some event, or series of events, inwhich I had the singular ill fortune to displease you. Maybe you don'tknow yourself, and spoke only from the emotion generated by the event,or series of events, in which, as I have said, I had the singular illfortune to displease you."

  "How awf'ly clever!" she said.

  "But I can't recall the event, or series of events, at all," hecontinued, musing with a scholarly air and disregarding her mockery. "Ican't remember a thing about it. To be sure, it might have been thattime when----"

  "I think it very stupid of you to hunt for a meaning when I believe Imade everything so perfectly clear," she said wrathfully.

  "Well, you yourself might not be aware of what you really meant," heanswered sagely. "Women often do that sort of thing, you know. Womenoften speak from motives which, if brought face to face with them, theywouldn't be able to distinguish from any other thing which they hadnever before seen."

  "Hollie, if there is a disgusting person in the world it is he whopretends to know so much concerning a woman's mind."

  "Well, that's because they who know, or pretend to know, so much about awoman's mind are invariably sa
tirical, you understand," said Hollandencheerfully.

  A dog ran frantically across the lawn, his nose high in the air and hiscountenance expressing vast perturbation and alarm. "Why, Billie forgotto whistle for his dog when he started for home," said Hollanden. "Comehere, old man! Well, 'e was a nice dog!" The girl also gave invitation,but the setter would not heed them. He spun wildly about the lawn untilhe seemed to strike his master's trail, and then, with his nose near tothe ground, went down the road at an eager gallop. They stood andwatched him.

  "Stanley's a nice dog," said Hollanden.

  "Indeed he is!" replied the girl fervently.

  Presently Hollanden remarked: "Well, don't let's fight any more,particularly since we can't decide what we're fighting about. I can'tdiscover the reason, and you don't know it, so----"

  "I do know it. I told you very plainly."

  "Well, all right. Now, this is the way to work that slam: You give theball a sort of a lift--see!--underhanded and with your arm crooked andstiff. Here, you smash this other ball into the net. Hi! Look out! Ifyou hit it that way you'll knock it over the hotel. Let the ball dropnearer to the ground. Oh, heavens, not on the ground! Well, it's hard todo it from the serve, anyhow. I'll go over to the other court and batyou some easy ones."

  Afterward, when they were going toward the inn, the girl suddenly beganto laugh.