An American Tragedy by Theodore Dreiser

this occasion to make a date, even to kiss her. She was not

incapable of letting him, even though she might pretend to

him that she did not want him to. It was agonizing.

In spite of himself, he began to tingle with helpless pain—to

begin to wish that he could see them. But Hegglund, having

called every one to join hands and crack the whip, he took

the hand of Lucille Nickolas, who was holding on to

Hegglund’s, and gave his other free hand to Maida Axelrod,

who in turn gave her free hand to Ratterer. And Higby and

Laura Sipe were about to make up the tail when Sparser

and Hortense came gliding back—he holding her by the

hand. And they now tacked on at the foot. Then Hegglund

and the others began running and doubling back and forth

until all beyond Maida had fallen and let go. And, as Clyde

noted, Hortense and Sparser, in falling, skidded and rolled

against each other to the edge of the shore where were

snow and leaves and twigs. And Hortense’s skirts,

becoming awry in some way, moved up to above her

knees. But instead of showing any embarrassment, as

Clyde thought and wished she might, she sat there for a

few moments without shame and even laughing heartily—

and Sparser with her and still holding her hand. And Laura

Sipe, having fallen in such a way as to trip Higby, who had

fallen across her, they also lay there laughing and yet in a

most suggestive position, as Clyde thought. He noted, too,

that Laura Sipe’s skirts had been worked above her knees.

And Sparser, now sitting up, was pointing to her pretty legs

and laughing loudly, showing most of his teeth. And all the

others were emitting peals and squeals of laughter.

“Hang it all!” thought Clyde. “Why the deuce does he

always have to be hanging about her? Why didn’t he bring

a girl of his own if he wanted to have a good time? What

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right have they got to go where they can’t be seen? And

she thinks I think she means nothing by all this. She never

laughs that heartily with me, you bet. What does she think I

am that she can put that stuff over on me, anyhow?” He

glowered darkly for the moment, but in spite of his thoughts

the line or whip was soon re-formed and this time with

Lucille Nickolas still holding his hand. Sparser and Hortense

at the tail end again. But Hegglund, unconscious of the

mood of Clyde and thinking only of the sport, called: “Better

let some one else take de end dere, hadn’tcha?” And

feeling the fairness of this, Ratterer and Maida Axelrod and

Clyde and Lucille Nickolas now moved down with Higby

and Laura Sipe and Hortense and Sparser above them.

Only, as Clyde noted, Hortense still held Sparser by the

hand, yet she moved just above him and took his hand, he

being to the right, with Sparser next above to her left,

holding her other hand family, which infuriated Clyde. Why

couldn’t he stick to Laura Sipe, the girl brought out here for

him? And Hortense was encouraging him.

He was very sad, and he felt so angry and bitter that he

could scarcely play the game. He wanted to stop and

quarrel with Sparser. But so brisk and eager was Hegglund

that they were off before he could even think of doing so.

And then, try as he would, to keep his balance in the face of

this, he and Lucille and Ratterer and Maida Axelrod were

thrown down and spun around on the ice like curling irons.

And Hortense, letting go of him at the right moment,

seemed to prefer deliberately to hang on to Sparser.

Entangled with these others, Clyde and they spun across

forty feet of smooth, green ice and piled against a snow

bank. At the finish, as he found, Lucille Nickolas was lying

across his knees face down in such a spanking position

that he was compelled to laugh. And Maida Axelrod was on

her back, next to Ratterer, her legs straight up in the air; on

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purpose he thought. She was too coarse and bold for him.

And there followed, of course, squeals and guffaws of

delight—so loud that they could be heard for half a mile.

Hegglund, intensely susceptible to humor at all times,

doubled to the knees, slapped his thighs and bawled. And

Sparser opened his big mouth and chortled and grimaced

until he was scarlet. So infectious was the result that for the

time being Clyde forgot his jealousy. He too looked and

laughed. But Clyde’s mood had not changed really. He still

felt that she wasn’t playing fair.

At the end of all this playing Lucille Nickolas and Tina Kogel

being tired, dropped out. And Hortense, also. Clyde at once

left the group to join her. Ratterer then followed Lucille.

Then the others separating, Hegglund pushed Maida

Axelrod before him down stream out of sight around a

bend. Higby, seemingly taking his cue from this, pulled Tina

Kogel up stream, and Ratterer and Lucille, seeming to see

something of interest, struck into a thicket, laughing and

talking as they went. Even Sparser and Laura, left to

themselves, now wandered off, leaving Clyde and Hortense

alone.

And then, as these two wandered toward a fallen log which

here paralleled the stream, she sat down. But Clyde,

smarting from his fancied wounds, stood silent for the time

being, while she, sensing as much, took him by the belt of

his coat and began to pull at him.

“Giddap, horsey,” she played. “Giddap. My horsey has to

skate me now on the ice.”

Clyde looked at her glumly, glowering mentally, and not to

be diverted so easily from the ills which he felt to be his.

“Whadd’ye wanta let that fellow Sparser always hang

around you for?” he demanded. “I saw you going up the

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creek there with him a while ago. What did he say to you up

there?”

“He didn’t say anything.”

“Oh, no, of course not,” he replied cynically and bitterly.

“And maybe he didn’t kiss you, either.”

“I should say not,” she replied definitely and spitefully, “I’d

like to know what you think I am, anyhow. I don’t let people

kiss me the first time they see me, smarty, and I want you

to know it. I didn’t let you, did I?”

“Oh, that’s all right, too,” answered Clyde; “but you didn’t

like me as well as you do him, either.”

“Oh, didn’t I? Well, maybe I didn’t, but what right have you

to say I like him, anyhow. I’d like to know if I can’t have a

little fun without you watching me all the time. You make

me tired, that’s what you do.” She was quite angry now

because of the proprietary air he appeared to be assuming.

And now Clyde, repulsed and somewhat shaken by this

sudden counter on her part, decided on the instant that

perhaps it might be best for him to modify his tone. After all,

she had never said that she had really cared for him, even

in the face of the implied promise she had made him.

“Oh, well,” he observed glumly after a moment, and not

without a little of sadness in his tone, “I know one thing. If I

let on that I cared for any one as much as you say you do

for me at times, I wouldn’t want to flirt around with others

like you are doing out here.”

“Oh, wouldn’t you?”

“No, I wouldn’t.”

“Well, who’s flirting anyhow, I’d like to know?”

“You are.”

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“I’m not either, and I wish you’d just go away and let me

alone if you can’t do anything but quarrel with me. Just

because I danced with him up there in the restaurant, is no

reason for you to think I’m flirting. Oh, you make me tired,

that’s what you do.”

“Do I?”

“Yes, you do.”

“Well, maybe I better go off and not bother you any more at

all then,” he returned, a trace of his mother’s courage

welling up in him.

“Well, maybe you had, if that’s the way you’re going to feel

about me all the time,” she answered, and kicked viciously

with her toes at the ice. But Clyde was beginning to feel that

he could not possibly go through with this—that after all he

was too eager about her—too much at her feet. He began

to weaken and gaze nervously at her. And she, thinking of

her coat again, decided to be civil.

“You didn’t look in his eyes, did you?” he asked weakly, his

thoughts going back to her dancing with Sparser.

“When?”

“When you were dancing with him?”

“No, I didn’t, not that I know of, anyhow. But supposing I