Paul took Jim off and put him back in his pocket ... he had to smack him smartly to make him let go—­“hongry little devil!” he remarked fondly.

A crack of the hand, brought down edgewise, broke the rabbit’s neck, and he was thrust into a bag which Josh carried slung over his shoulder.

We caught fifteen rabbits that afternoon.

We had a big rabbit stew for supper.  Afterward the two men sat about in their socks, chairs tilted back, sucking their teeth and picking them with broom straws ... and they told yarns of dogs, and hunting, and fishing, till bed-time.

* * * * *

The morning sun shone brightly over me through three panes of glass in the window, the fourth of which was stopped up with an old petticoat.

I woke with Phoebe’s warm kiss on my mouth.  We had slept together, for the older folks considered us too young for it to make any difference.  We lay side by side all night ... and like a little man and woman we lay together, talking, in the morning.

We could smell the cooking of eggs and bacon below ... an early breakfast for Paul, for he had been taken by a whim that he must work in the mine over the hill for a few weeks in order to earn some money ... for he was a miner, as well as a puddler in the mills ... he worked in coal mines privately run, not yet taken into the trust.  He often had to lie on his side in a shallow place, working the coal loose with his pick—­where the roof was so close he couldn’t sit up straight....

* * * * *

“What shall we do to-day?” asked Phoebe of me, as we lay there, side by side, “I say let’s go swimming?”

“You and me together?” I demurred.

“In course!”

“And you a girl?”

“Can’t I swim jest as well as you can?”

“Phoebe, git up, you lazy-bones,” called Aunt Rachel, from the bottom of the stairs.

“All right, Ma!”

“Johnnie, you git up, too!”

“Coming down right now, Aunt Rachel!”

“Hurry up, or your breakfast’ll git cold ... the idea of you children laying in bed like this ... what on earth are you doing up there, talking and talking?  I kin hear you buzzing away clear down here!”

I had been rapt in telling Phoebe how, when I grew to be a man, I was going to become a great adventurer, traveller, explorer.

Phoebe sat up on the edge of the bed, lazily stretching for a moment, as a pretty bird stretches its leg along its wing.  Then, her slim, nubile body outlined sharply in the brilliant day, she stood up, slipped off her flannel nightgown with a natural, unaffected movement, and stood naked before me.

* * * * *

It was a custom of mine to swing my feet as I ate; “just like a little calf wags its tail when it sucks its mother’s tit,” my grandmother would say.  I swung my feet vigorously that morning, but did not eat noisily, as my uncles, all my male relatives, in fact, did.  I never made a noise when I ate.  I handled my food delicately by instinct.  If I found a fly in anything it generally made me sick to my stomach.