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appealed to all that was masculine in him。 Bella； the experienced；
clinging to him； felt herself swept from head to foot by a queer electric
tingling that was very pleasant but that still had in it something of the
sensation of a wholesale bumping of one's crazy bone。 If she had been
anything but a stupid little flirt； she would have realized that here was a
specimen of the virile male with which she could not trifle。 She glanced
up at him now； smiling faintly。 〃My； I was scared！〃 She stepped away
from him a littlevery little。
〃Aw； he wouldn't hurt a flea。〃
But Bella looked over her shoulder fearfully to where Dunder stood by
the roadside； regarding Ben with a look of uncertainty。 He still thought
that perhaps this was a new game。 Not a game that he cared for； but still
one to be played if his master fancied it。 Ben stooped； picked up a stone；
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and threw it at Dunder； striking him in the flank。
〃Go on home！〃 he commanded sternly。 〃Go home！〃 He started
toward the dog with a well…feigned gesture of menace。 Dunder； with a
low howl； put his tail between his legs and loped off home； a disillusioned
dog。
Bella stood looking up at Ben。 Ben looked down at her。 〃You're the
new teacher； ain't you？〃
〃Yes。 I guess you must think I'm a fool； going on like a baby about
that dog。〃
〃Most girls would be scared of him if they didn't know he wouldn't
hurt nobody。 He's pretty big。〃
He paused a moment； awkwardly。 〃My name's Ben Westerveld。〃
〃Pleased to meet you；〃 said Bella。 〃Which way was you going？
There's a dog down at Tietjens' that's enough to scare anybody。 He looks
like a pony； he's so big。〃
〃I forgot something at the school this afternoon； and I was walking
over to get it。〃 Which was a lie。 〃I hope it won't get dark before I get
there。 You were going the other way； weren't you？〃
〃Oh； I wasn't going no place in particular。 I'll be pleased to keep you
company down to the school and back。〃 He was surprised at his own
sudden masterfulness。
They set off together； chatting as freely as if they had known one
another for years。 Ben had been on his way to the Byers farm； as usual。
The Byers farm and Emma Byers passed out of his mind as completely as
if they had been whisked away on a magic rug。
Bella Huckins had never meant to marry him。 She hated farm life。
She was contemptuous of farmer folk。 She loathed cooking and
drudgery。 The Huckinses lived above the saloon in Commercial and Mrs。
Huckins was always boiling ham and tongue and cooking pigs' feet and
shredding cabbage for slaw； all these edibles being destined for the free…
lunch counter downstairs。 Bella had early made up her mind that there
should be no boiling and stewing and frying in her life。 Whenever she
could find an excuse she loitered about the saloon。 There she found life
and talk and color。 Old Red Front Huckins used to chase her away； but
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she always turned up again； somehow； with a dish for the lunch counter or
with an armful of clean towels。
Ben Westerveld never said clearly to himself； 〃I want to marry Bella。〃
He never dared meet the thought。 He intended honestly to marry Emma
Byers。 But this thing was too strong for him。 As for Bella； she laughed
at him； but she was scared； too。 They both fought the thing； she selfishly；
he unselfishly； for the Byers girl； with her clear； calm eyes and her
dependable ways； was heavy on his heart。 Ben's appeal for Bella was
merely that of the magnetic male。 She never once thought of his finer
qualities。 Her appeal for him was that of the frail and alluring woman。
But in the end they married。 The neighborhood was rocked with
surprise。
Usually in a courtship it is the male who assumes the bright colors of
pretense in order to attract a mate。 But Ben Westerveld had been too
honest to be anything but himself。 He was so honest and fundamentally
truthful that he refused at first to allow himself to believe that this slovenly
shrew was the fragile and exquisite creature he had married。 He had the
habit of personal cleanliness； had Ben； in a day when tubbing was a
ceremony in an environment that made bodily nicety difficult。 He
discovered that Bella almost never washed and that her appearance of
fragrant immaculateness； when dressed； was due to a natural clearness of
skin and eye； and to the way her blond hair swept away in a clean line
from her forehead。 For the rest； she was a slattern； with a vocabulary of
invective that would have been a credit to any of the habitues of old Red
Front Huckins' bar。
They had three children； a girl and two boys。 Ben Westerveld
prospered in spite of his wife。 As the years went on he added eighty
acres here； eighty acres there； until his land swept down to the very banks
of the Mississippi。 There is no doubt that she hindered him greatly； but
he was too expert a farmer to fail。 At threshing time the crew looked
forward to working for Ben； the farmer； and dreaded the meals prepared
by Bella； his wife。 She was notoriously the worst cook and housekeeper
in the county。 And all through the years； in trouble and in happiness； her
plaint was the same 〃If I'd thought I was going to stick down on a farm
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all my life； slavin' for a pack of menfolks day and night； I'd rather have
died。 Might as well be dead as rottin' here。〃
Her schoolteacher English had early reverted。 Her speech was as
slovenly as her dress。 She grew stout； too； and unwieldy； and her skin
coarsened from lack of care and from overeating。 And in her children's
ears she continually dinned a hatred of farm life and farming。 〃You can
get away from it；〃 she counseled her daughter； Minnie。 〃Don't you be a
rube like your pa；〃 she cautioned John； the older boy。 And they profited
by her ad… vice。 Minnie went to work in Commercial when she was
seventeen； an overdeveloped girl with an inordinate love of cheap finery。
At twenty； she married an artisan； a surly fellow with roving tendencies。
They moved from town to town。 He never stuck long at one job。 John；
the older boy； was as much his mother's son as Minnie was her mother's
daughter。 Restless； dissatisfied； emptyheaded； he was the despair of his
father。 He drove the farm horses as if they were racers； lashing them up
hill and down dale。 He was forever lounging off to the village or
wheedling his mother for money to take him to Commercial。 It was
before the day of the ubiquitous automobile。 Given one of those present
adjuncts to farm life； John would have ended his career much earlier。 As
it was； they found him lying by the roadside at dawn one morning after the
horses had trotted into the yard with the wreck of the buggy bumping the
road behind them。 He had stolen the horses out of the barn after the help
was asleep； had led them stealthily down the road； and then had whirled
off to a rendezvous of his own in town。 The fall from the buggy might
not have hurt him； but evidently he had been dragged almost a mile before
his battered body became somehow disentangled from the splintered wood
and the reins。
That horror might have served to bring Ben Westerveld and his wife
together； but it did not。 It only increased her bitterness and her hatred of
the locality and the life。
〃I hope you're good an' satisfied now；〃 she repeated in endless
reproach。 〃I hope you're good