inst the wall, and on its
snow-white cloth stood a great bowl of mint, some goblets, a pitcher of
water, a dish of sugar, and a brown jug containing whisky.

"I want you to try one of my juleps," Teasdale chuckled. "That is some
of the best old rye that ever slid down a thirsty throat."

"I don't drink," John said. "I won't take anything."

"What, what? You don't? Well, I won't insist--I never do--but stay with
me a minute till I take one straight. My old lady says I take too much
at every party Sally has, and unless some feller is in here with me she
thinks I am tanking up all by myself."

"Go ahead," John answered, and the farmer proceeded to help himself to
an ample supply of the amber fluid. While he drank, the sound of tuning
fiddles and the twanging of guitars came from the parlor.

"The niggers have come," Teasdale gurgled, as he smacked his lips and
screwed the corn-cob stopper back into the neck of the jug. "Sally will
start out with dancing, I reckon. I used to be a great hand at it, but
I'm too heavy now."

He led the way back to the parlor. Four black men sat in a corner
vigorously sawing and picking their instruments. One of them, the
leader, called out in stentorian tones, "All hands fer de fust set!" and
there was a laughing rush from the hall and the veranda of several
couples to secure places. Seeing a chance to get away from his host,
John drew back into the hall, where he found himself jostled and ignored
by the tempestuous human mass. He edged his way along a wall to the
veranda, and there saw something startlingly disagreeable. It was Joel
Eperson and Tilly standing side by side, their faces averted toward the
gate. Joel was regarding her with the eyes of dumb adoration and
listening closely to something she was saying. John saw that the
opposite end of the veranda was deserted and he went to it. He tried to
keep his eyes from the pair, but it was impossible. His misery
increased, seeming to ooze into him from some external reservoir of
pain. All around him surged a life bewilderingly new and fatuous. He
saw Joel bend down to pick up a flower Tilly dropped and saw him smile
as he gave it back to her. What could she be saying, with that sweet,
drawn look about her lips? What was Joel asking? He saw her nod, and
Joel took her arm and the two went down the steps to the gravel walk
that led from the house to the gate. Here back and forth they walked,
arm in arm, now in the full light from the door