But
Florence was a little too agile for the old lady, whom she speedily
distanced, while I made good my escape into the sheltering foliage of
an apple-tree, where, securely perched on a strong limb, I remained until
school was out, and the girls had all gone home.
After a time, at my urgent entreaties, my parents removed me from the
village-school, and placed me at an institute for boys. I had thought,
previously to the change, that I should be perfectly happy when it was
effected; but I had, somehow, miscalculated. I missed the bewitching
faces of the girls I had fled from, and, for the first time in my life,
I realized that the world would be a terrible humdrum sort of a place if
there were nothing but men here.
To confess the plain truth, I had discovered that, in spite of my
bashfulness, I loved every single girl I had ever seen--not even
excepting good black Bess in my mother's kitchen, who concocted such
admirable turnovers and seedcakes. But at that time, sooner than have
acknowledged such a weakness, I would have been broiled alive.
As I grew toward manhood, my bashfulness got no better. It was confirmed;
it had become a chronic disease, as irremediable as the rheumatism, and a
thousand times more distressing.
I was frequently invited to quiltings, apple parings, huskings, etc.
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