She evidently had as little expectation of Lance obeying her as he had of doing so. Her words were plainly intended merely to set forth her own position--to clear her skirts of reproach. The young folks about her giggled and looked with open admiration at the youth who dared to bring such a worldly object to Sunday preaching. "Banjo'll let the preacher alone, if the preacher'll let it alone," smiled Lance, unconcernedly pulling the instrument around to get at the strings, and touching them lightly. "You go 'long into the church and get your soul saved for Heaven, Sis' Roxy. I reckon they need representatives of the Cleaverage family in both places." "Well, that's whar you're a-goin'--er more so," asserted the widow with dignity, as she turned her back once more on the young folks and moved away. [8] Lance took the ribbon of his banjo from his neck and flung it over a blossoming azalea bush. "I'll hang my harp on a willer tree, And away to the wars again," he hummed softly just above his breath. "I don't aim to hurt the preacher's feelings. I won't take my banjo into his church--sech doctrine as Drumright's is apt to be mighty hard on banjo strings. Don't you-all want to have a little dance after the meeting's out--on the Threshin'-floor Rock up the branch?" The girls looked duly horrified, all but Ola Derf, who spoke up promptly, "Yes--or come a-past our house. Pap don't mind a Sunday dance. You will come, won't you, Lance?" pleadingly. Callista Gentry did not dance. She had always, in the nature of things, belonged to the class of young people in the mountains who might be expected at any time to "profess" and join the church. The musician laughed teasingly. "I reckon we'd better not," he said finally. "Callista's scared. She begged me into bringing my banjo to-day (you don't any of you know the gal like I do), and now she's scared to listen to it." Callista barely raised her eyes at this speech, and spared to make any denial. "You-all that wants to dance on a Sunday [9] better go 'long there," she said indifferently. "It's mighty near time for preaching to begin, and you've got a right smart walk over to the Derf place." Dismissing them thus coolly from her world, she addressed herself once more to pinning a bunch of ochre and crimson azaleas into the trimming of her broad hat. "Lance," drawled Buck Fuson, "I hear you' cuttin' timber on yo' land. Aimin' to put up a cabin--fixin' to wed?" The newcomer shrugged his shoulders, but made no reply. "When I heared it, I 'lowed Callista had named the day," persisted Fuson. "Have ye, Callista?" Rilly Trigg put in daringly, as neither of the principals seemed disposed to speak. "The names that the days have already got suits me well enough," Callista observed drily. "I don't know why I should go namin' ary one of 'em over again." There was a great laugh at this, of which Cleaverage appeared entirely oblivious.