This was true. And especially was Russ Bunker anxious to learn to dance as some of the colored boys did. He was constantly practising the funny pigeon wing that he had seen Sam do in Aunt Jo's kitchen, in Boston. But the white boy could not get it just right. "Never mind, Russ," Laddie said approvingly, "you do it better and better all the time. I guess you can do it by and by--three or four years from now, maybe." But three or four years seemed a long time to Russ. When they went down to the quarters the evening of the party Russ determined to try to dance as well as Frane, Junior, and the negro boys. Mammy June was much better now, and she was up and about. To please her Mr. Armatage had a phaeton brought around and the old nurse was driven to the scene of the celebration. Mun Bun and Margy rode in the phaeton with Mammy June and were very proud of this particular honor. The old nurse was loved by everybody on the plantation, both white and black. Mother Bunker said that Mammy held "quite a levee" at the quarters, sitting in state in her phaeton where she could see all that went on. The dinner was what the negroes called a barbecue. The six little Bunkers had never seen such a feast before, for this that their father gave them was even more elaborate than the dinner the planter had given his hands at Christmas. There was a great fire in a pit, and over this fire a whole pig was roasted on a spit, and poultry, and 'possums that the boys had killed, and rabbits. There were sweet potatoes, of course. How the little Northerners liked them! The white children had a table to themselves and ate as heartily as their colored friends. Then a place was cleared for the dancing. Mammy June's phaeton was drawn to the edge of this dance floor. The music struck up, and there was a general rush for partners. After a while the dancers got more excited, and many of them danced alone, "showing off," Frane, Junior, said. They did have the funniest steps! Russ Bunker was highly delighted with this kind of dancing. "Now let me! Let me dance!" he cried, starting out from his seat near Mammy June. "A boy showed me in Boston how to cut a pigeon wing. I guess I can do it now." "You can't cut no pigeon wing, w'ite boy," said 'Lias, Mammy's grandson. "I can try," said Russ bravely, and he danced with much vigor for several minutes. "Oh, my, he done cut Sneezer's pigeon wing!" cried one of the darkies presently. "What's dat? Cut Sneezer's pigeon wing?" cried Mammy June, sitting up to watch Russ more closely. "Dat's jest what he's doin'." Russ continued to dance, and did his best to imitate the colored boy at Aunt Jo's house. He was hard at it when Mammy June, with her eyes almost popping out of her head, cried: "For de lan's sake, boy, come here! I want to ask you sumpin."