“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?” “Go, Cad, it won’t hurt you,” whispered John, but Carrie was immovable, and at last, Anna, who entered more into her brother’s spirit, took her seat at the instrument, asking what he would have. “Oh, give us ‘Money Musk,’ ‘Hail Columby,’ ‘Old Zip Coon,’ or anything to raise a feller’s ideas.” Fortunately, Anna’s forte lay in playing old music, which she preferred to more modern pieces, and, Joel was soon beating time to the lively strains of “Money Musk.” “Wall, I declare,” said he, when it was ended, “I don’t see but what you Kentucky gals play most as well as they do to hum. I didn’t s’pose many on you ever seen a pianner. Come,” turning to Carrie, “less see what you can do. Mebby you’ll beat her all holler,” and he offered his hand to Carrie, who rather petulantly said she “must be excused.” “Oh, get out,” he continued. “You needn’t feel so bashful, for I shan’t criticise you very hard. I know how to feel fer new beginners.” “Have you been to supper, Mr. Slocum ?” asked Mr. Livingstone, pitying Carrie, and wishing to put an end to the performance. “No, I hain’t, and I’m hungrier than a bear,” answered Joel, whereupon Mrs. Nichols, thinking he was her guest, arose, saying she would see that he had some. When both were gone to the dining-room, Mrs. Livingstone’s wrath boiled over.