“You hush, Bub,” and Bub rose and stalked into the house. Aunt Tilly was leaning back in her chair--gasping--and consternation smote the group. June rose suddenly with her string of dangling beans. “I haven't shown you my room, Loretty. Don't you want to see it? Come on, all of you,” she added to the girls, and they and Loretta with one swift look of gratitude rose shyly and trooped shyly within where they looked in wide-mouthed wonder at the marvellous things that room contained. The older women followed to share sight of the miracle, and all stood looking from one thing to another, some with their hands behind them as though to thwart the temptation to touch, and all saying merely: “My! My!” None of them had ever seen a piano before and June must play the “shiny contraption” and sing a song. It was only curiosity and astonishment that she evoked when her swift fingers began running over the keys from one end of the board to the other, astonishment at the gymnastic quality of the performance, and only astonishment when her lovely voice set the very walls of the little room to vibrating with a dramatic love song that was about as intelligible to them as a problem in calculus, and June flushed and then smiled with quick understanding at the dry comment that rose from Aunt Tilly behind: “She shorely can holler some!” She couldn't play “Sourwood Mountain” on the piano--nor “Jinny git Aroun',” nor “Soapsuds over the Fence,” but with a sudden inspiration she went back to an old hymn that they all knew, and at the end she won the tribute of an awed silence that made them file back to the beans on the porch. Loretta lingered a moment and when June closed the piano and the two girls went into the main room, a tall figure, entering, stopped in the door and stared at June without speaking: