“’Tilda, this is Nancy Scovandyke’s sister’s boy.  Caroline and Anny, this is Joel; you’ve heard tell of him.”

“I’ve been introduced, thank you,” said Joel, taking a seat near Carrie, who haughtily gathered up the ample folds of her dress, lest it should be polluted.

“Bashful critter, but she’ll get over it by the time she’s seen as much of the world as I have,” soliloquized Joel; at the same time thinking to make some advances, he hitched a little nearer, and taking hold of a strip of embroidery on which she was engaged, he said, “Now, du tell, if they’ve got to workin’ with floss way down here.  Waste of time, I tell ’em, this makin’ holes for the sake of sewin’ ’em up.  But law!” he added, as he saw the deepening scowl on Carrie’s face, “wimmin may jest as well by putterin’ about that as anything else, for their time ain’t nothin’ moren’ an old settin’ hen’s.”

This speech called forth the first loud roar in which John Jr. had indulged since Nellie went away, and now settling back in his chair, he gave vent to his feelings in peals of laughter, in which Joel also joined, thinking he’d said something smart.  When at last he’d finished laughing, he thought again of ’Lena, and turning to Mrs. Livingstone, asked where she was, raising his voice to a high key on account of her supposed deafness.

“Did you speak to me?” asked the lady, with a look which she meant should annihilate him, and in a still louder tone Joel repeated his question, asking Anna, aside, if her mother had ever tried “McAllister’s All-Healing Ointment,” for her deafness, saying it had “nighly cured his grandmother when she was several years older than Mrs. Livingstone.”

“Much obliged for your prescription, which, fortunately, I do not need,” said Mrs. Livingstone, angrily, while Joel thought, “how strange it was that deaf people would always hear in the wrong time!”

“Mother don’t seem inclined to answer your question concerning ’Lena,” said John Jr., “so I will do it for her.  She is in Frankfort, taking music lessons.  You used to know her, I believe.”

“Lud, yes!  I chased her once with a streaked snake, and if she didn’t put ’er through, then I’m no ‘Judge.  Takin’ music lessons, is she?  I’d give a fo’ pence to hear her play.”

“Are you fond of music?” asked John Jr., in hopes of what followed.

“Wall, I wouldn’t wonder much if I was,” answered Joel, taking a tuning-fork from his pocket and striking it upon the table.  “I’ve kep’ singin’ school one term, besides leadin’ the Methodis’ choir in Slocumville:  so I orto know a little somethin’ about it.”

“Perhaps you play, and if so, we’d like to hear you,” continued John Jr., in spite of the deprecating glance cast upon him by Carrie.

“Not such a dreadful sight,” answered Joel, sauntering toward the piano and drumming a part of “Auld Lang Syne.”  “Not such a dreadful sight, but I guess these girls do.  Come, girls, play us a jig, won’t you?”