Laurelia sighed for the violin and Leander's music, though, as she always made haste to say, some pious people misdoubted whether it were not a sinful pastime. On such occasions it went hard with Leander not to divulge his late experiences and the connection of the pious Uncle Nehemiah therewith. But he always remembered in time Laurelia's disability to receive confidences, being a woman, and consequently unable to keep a secret, and he desisted. One day, however, when he and Ty Sudley, ploughing the corn, now knee-high, were pausing to rest in the turn-row, a few furrows apart, in an ebullition of filial feeling he told all that had befallen him in his absence. Ty Sudley, divided between wrath toward Nehemiah and quaking anxiety for the dangers that Leander had been constrained to run--_ex post facto_ tremors, but none the less acute--felt moved now and then to complacence in his prodigy. “So 'twar _you-uns ez_ war smart enough ter slam the furnace door an' throw the whole place inter darkness! That saved them moonshiners and raiders from killin' each other. It saved a deal o' bloodshed--ez sure ez shootin\ 'Twar mighty smart in ye. But”--suddenly bethinking himself of sundry unfilial gibes at Uncle Nehemiah and the facetious account of his plight--“Lee-yander, ye mustn't be so turr'ble bad, sonny; ye _mustn't_ be so _turr'ble_ bad.” “Naw, ma'am, Neighbor, I won't,” Leander protested. And he went on following the plough down the furrow and singing loud and clear. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Moonshiners At Hoho-Hebee Falls, by Charles Egbert Craddock (AKA Mary Noailles Murfree)