Rural Retreat times. [volume] (Rural Retreat, Va.) 1892-1918, 1902-12-05

Inc sun Dad passed the meridian,
and the shadows were beginning to
fall on Nolan's side. The hop-field code
OF courtesy demands that when q man
is picking with LADY" he give her
always the shady side. But Nolan, in
his perturbation of mind, forgot his
manners.
"Nothin'," came indifferently from
Mollie, feeling the rays pelting down
upon her head, and remembering the
thoughtfulness of the fellow in the
leggings in pulling the fullest vines
down on her side.
'Say, Mollie," asked Nolan. persua-
sively, after half-ho silence. dur
ing which time several couples had
changed sides so that the girl might
have the benefit Of the shade, what
was he hangin' round you all mornin'
for?"
''Nothin'!' The black eyes were
stubbornly glued to their work, while
beads of perspiration stood out on the
round. tanned cheeks.
Thereafter, vine after vine was
reached and stripped In oppressive
silence. At length, after having de-
c4ded to adopt a course of moody
silence, which should break the
naughty spirit of this girl. and make
her hang upon his slightest word,
Nolan heard himself say. before he
knew it, in tender, coaxing tones:
'Say, Mollie, what was he talkin' to
you about, anyway"
''Nothin'!" Mollie's chin went into
the air and her lips snapped together
like the blades of jack-knife. The
beads of perspiration had grown into
rivulets that trickled from nose to
chin and splashed into the basket
The foreman of the field rode by sew
eral times and noticed gratefully there
was less talking and more work being
done between the two than usual,
and when at last the shadows grew so
long it did not matter which side of
the row she was on, and the sun began
to redden behind bank of smoke and
dust, the joyful sound of the quitting
bell pealed over the fields.
Arms just lifted to reach a vine,
hands in the act of stripping branch,
fingers just crooked to pick last
hop. stopped and fell empty at the
sound of that first tap. The unhappy
Nolan could not stop his thoughts SO
quickly, nor resist last appealing.
Say, Mollie, what's the matter with
you, anyway"
But the maid only threw a defiant
"Nothin'!' over her shoulder as she
was Joined at the end of the row by a
tall fellow in leggings The black eyes
lost their defiance, the lips rippled into
smiles as she pushed her un-bonnet
back and looked up into the laughing
face under the sombrero.
Great place, isn't it?' the tall fell
low said, half to himself, as he
watched the pickers filing by-China-
men, Indians. Japs, and whites of ev-
cry brand, and all sorts of conditions.
There was the Objectionable element
of "hobos," of course. in plentitude.
but the majority of the pickers were
the men who, after harvesting their
own meagre little hay crops, packed
their wagons. loaded in their families,
whistled to their dogs, and started off
for three or four weeks camp in the
hop-felds. With these families it is
regular institution. and the one in
teresting occasion of the year. Here
new acquaintance are made, foot-hill
gossip exchanged for tule district scan
dals, flirtations and romances spring
up, flourish, and die, with the hops,
and most of the back country bellies
date their social debut from the Sat
urday night dances.
Mollie stole a one-sided glance at
the fellow in the leggings, and took
in every detail as his eyes followed the
crowd She held her head just trifie
higher than usual when familiar faces
looked up and saw her chatting with
this stylish looking fellow in the COR
duroy Knockers. In fact, when some
of her Coon Creek friends came along.
she found it inconvenient to look their
way, for she felt that in refined society
their "Hello Molr' would not be con-
sidered good form.
How long have you worked here?''
the tall fellow asked her, shortening his
stride to fall in with her little trip.
Mollie, delighted to be called upon
for information, gurgled out everything
she knew about the hop-fields; the adj
vantage of being paid by the piece
instead of the day, the amount the
average picker could make day. the
weighing in the baskets, the processing
in tho Kiln tho r,raSS;rD apd holinu
and the joys of the dance given every
Saturday night. Adding, for she could
scarcely believe this distinguished-look-
ing parsonage could be a common
picker, like Mike Nolan and Pinny
Smith, and the rest of them: care
you visiting at Hoptown?"
mo" the fellow laughed, "I'm cit
izen, if I can stand these beastly
hours, For the next few weeks I'm