She had promised Nap Ballou to go picknicking with him Sunday.Down the river, boating, with supper on shore.The small, still voice within her had said, "Don't go! Don't go!" But the harsh, high-pitched, reckless overtone said, "Go on! Have a good time.Take all you can get."She would have to lie at home and she did it.Some fabrication about the girls at the watchworks did the trick.Fried chicken, chocolate cake.She packed them deftly and daintily.High-heeled shoes, flimsy blouse, rustling skirt.Nap Ballou was waiting for her over in the city park.She saw him before he espied her.He was leaning against a tree, idly, staring straight ahead with queer, lackluster eyes.Silhouetted there against the tender green of the pretty square, he looked very old, somehow, anddifferent-- much older than he looked in his shop clothes, issuing orders.Tessie noticed that he sagged where he should have stuck out, and protruded where he should have been flat.There flashed across her mind a vividly clear picture of Chuck as she had last seen him--brown, fit, high of chest, flat of stomach, slim of flank.
Ballou saw her.He straightened and came toward her swiftly."Somebody looks mighty sweet this afternoon."Tessie plumped the heavy lunch box into his arms."When you get a line you like you stick to it, don't you?"Down at the boathouse even Tessie, who had confessed ignorance of boats and oars, knew that Ballou was fumbling clumsily.He stooped to adjust the oars to the oarlocks.His hat was off.His hair looked very gray in the cruel spring sunshine.He straightened and smiled up at her.
"Ready in a minute, sweetheart," he said.He took off his collar and turned in the neckband of his shirt.His skin was very white.Tessie felt a little shudder of disgust sweep over her, so that she stumbled a little as she stepped into the boat.
The river was very lovely.Tessie trailed her fingers in the water and told herself that she was having a grand time.She told Nap the same when he asked her.
"Having a good time, little beauty?" he said.He was puffing a little with the unwonted exercise.
Tessie tried some of her old-time pertness of speech."Oh, good enough, considering the company."He laughed admiringly at that and said she was a sketch.
When the early evening came on they made a clumsy landing and had supper.This time Nap fed her the tidbits, though she protested.
"White meat for you," he said, "with your skin like milk.""You must of read that in a book," scoffed Tessie.She glanced around her at the deepening shadows."We haven't got much time.
It gets dark so early."
"No hurry," Nap assured her.He went on eating in a leisurely, finicking sort of way, though he consumed very little food, actually.
"You're not eating much," Tessie said once, halfheartedly.Shedecided that she wasn't having such a very grand time, after all, and that she hated his teeth, which were very bad.Now, Chuck's strong, white, double row----"Well," she said, "let's be going." "No hurry," again.
Tessie looked up at that with the instinctive fear of her kind."What d'you mean, no hurry! 'Spect to stay here till dark?" She laughed at her own joke.
"Yes."
She got up then, the blood in her face."Well, _I_ don't." He rose, too."Why not?""Because I don't, that's why." She stooped and began picking up the remnants of the lunch, placing spoons and glass bottles swiftly and thriftily into the lunch box.Nap stepped around behind her.
"Let me help," he said.And then his arm was about her and his face was close to hers, and Tessie did not like it.He kissed her after a little wordless struggle.And then she knew.She had been kissed before.But not like this.Not like this! She struck at him furiously.Across her mind flashed the memory of a girl who had worked in the finishing room.A nice girl, too.But that hadn't helped her.Nap Ballou was laughing a little as he clasped her.
At that she heard herself saying: "I'll get Chuck Mory after you--you drunken bum, you! He'll lick you black and blue.He'll----"The face, with the ugly, broken brown teeth, was coming close again.With all the young strength that was in her she freed one hand and clawed at that face from eyes to chin.A howl of pain rewarded her.His hold loosened.Like a flash she was off.She ran.It seemed to her that her feet did not touch the earth.Over brush, through bushes, crashing against trees, on and on.She heard him following her, but the broken- down engine that was his heart refused to do the work.She ran on, though her fear was as great as before.Fear of what might have happened--to her, Tessie Golden, that nobody could even talk fresh to.She gave a sob of fury and fatigue.She was stumbling now.It was growing dark.She ran on again, in fear of the overtaking darkness.Itwas easier now.Not so many trees and bushes.She came to a fence, climbed over it, lurched as she landed, leaned against it weakly for support, one hand on her aching heart.Before her was the Hatton summer cottage, dimly outlined in the twilight among the trees.
A warm, flickering light danced in the window.Tessie stood a moment, breathing painfully, sobbingly.Then, with an instinctive gesture, she patted her hair, tidied her blouse, and walked uncertainly toward the house, up the steps to the door.She stood there a moment, swaying slightly.Somebody'd be there.
