Datasets:
edwindvinas
/
testdataset

Dataset card Data Studio Files
xet
 Community
text
stringlengths
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72
“I don’t feel right about leaving you alone, Cissy.”
“Oh, I’ll be all right. I feel better tonight than I have for a long
while. I’ve been feeling badly to see you sticking here so closely on
my account. I hope you’ll have a nice time. I never was at a party at
the Corners, but I used to go sometimes, long ago, to dances up back.
We always had good times. And you needn’t be afraid of Father being
drunk tonight. He never drinks when he engages to play for a party.
But—there may be—liquor. What will you do if it gets rough?”
“Nobody would molest me.”
“Not seriously, I suppose. Father would see to that. But it _might_ be
noisy and—and unpleasant.”
“I won’t mind. I’m only going as a looker-on. I don’t expect to dance.
I just want to _see_ what a party up back is like. I’ve never seen
anything except decorous Deerwood.”
Cissy smiled rather dubiously. She knew much better than Valancy what a
party “up back” might be like if there should be liquor. But again
there mightn’t be.
“I hope you’ll enjoy it, dear,” she repeated.
Valancy enjoyed the drive there. They went early, for it was twelve
miles to Chidley Corners, and they had to go in Abel’s old, ragged
top-buggy. The road was rough and rocky, like most Muskoka roads, but
full of the austere charm of northern woods. It wound through
beautiful, purring pines that were ranks of enchantment in the June
sunset, and over the curious jade-green rivers of Muskoka, fringed by
aspens that were always quivering with some supernal joy.
Roaring Abel was excellent company, too. He knew all the stories and
legends of the wild, beautiful “up back,” and he told them to Valancy
as they drove along. Valancy had several fits of inward laughter over
what Uncle Benjamin and Aunt Wellington, _et al._, would feel and think
and say if they saw her driving with Roaring Abel in that terrible
buggy to a dance at Chidley Corners.
At first the dance was quiet enough, and Valancy was amused and
entertained. She even danced twice herself, with a couple of nice “up
back” boys who danced beautifully and told her she did, too.
Another compliment came her way—not a very subtle one, perhaps, but
Valancy had had too few compliments in her life to be over-nice on that
point. She overheard two of the “up back” young men talking about her
in the dark “lean-to” behind her.
“Know who that girl in green is?”
“Nope. Guess she’s from out front. The Port, maybe. Got a stylish look
to her.”
“No beaut but cute-looking, I’ll say. ‘Jever see such eyes?”
The big room was decorated with pine and fir boughs, and lighted by
Chinese lanterns. The floor was waxed, and Roaring Abel’s fiddle,
purring under his skilled touch, worked magic. The “up back” girls were
pretty and prettily dressed. Valancy thought it the nicest party she
had ever attended.
By eleven o’clock she had changed her mind. A new crowd had arrived—a
crowd unmistakably drunk. Whiskey began to circulate freely. Very soon
almost all the men were partly drunk. Those in the porch and outside
around the door began howling “come-all-ye’s” and continued to howl
them. The room grew noisy and reeking. Quarrels started up here and
there. Bad language and obscene songs were heard. The girls, swung
rudely in the dances, became dishevelled and tawdry. Valancy, alone in
her corner, was feeling disgusted and repentant. Why had she ever come
to such a place? Freedom and independence were all very well, but one
should not be a little fool. She might have known what it would be
like—she might have taken warning from Cissy’s guarded sentences. Her
head was aching—she was sick of the whole thing. But what could she do?
She must stay to the end. Abel could not leave till then. And that
would probably be not till three or four in the morning.
The new influx of boys had left the girls far in the minority and
partners were scarce. Valancy was pestered with invitations to dance.
She refused them all shortly, and some of her refusals were not well
taken. There were muttered oaths and sullen looks. Across the room she
saw a group of the strangers talking together and glancing meaningly at
her. What were they plotting?
It was at this moment that she saw Barney Snaith looking in over the
heads of the crowd at the doorway. Valancy had two distinct
convictions—one was that she was quite safe now; the other was that
_this_ was why she had wanted to come to the dance. It had been such an
absurd hope that she had not recognised it before, but now she knew she
had come because of the possibility that Barney might be there, too.
She thought that perhaps she ought to be ashamed for this, but she
wasn’t. After her feeling of relief her next feeling was one of
annoyance with Barney for coming there unshaved. Surely he might have
enough self-respect to groom himself up decently when he went to a
party. There he was, bareheaded, bristly-chinned, in his old trousers
and his blue homespun shirt. Not even a coat. Valancy could have shaken
him in her anger. No wonder people believed everything bad of him.
But she was not afraid any longer. One of the whispering group left his
comrades and came across the room to her, through the whirling couples