was
reluctant to commit himself to an undertaking which he apprehended would
be not only laborious but disagreeable.

"Wa'al," said David, "as fur 's the bus'nis itself 's concerned, the
hull thing's all nix-cum-rouse to me; but as fur 's gettin' folks to
come an' sing, you c'n git a barn full, an' take your pick; an' a
feller that c'n git a pair of hosses an' a buggy out of a tight fix the
way you done a while ago ought to be able to break in a little team of
half a dozen women or so."

"Well," said John, laughing, "_you_ could have done what I was lucky
enough to do with the horses, but--"

"Yes, yes," David broke in, scratching his cheek, "I guess you got me
that time."

Mr. Euston perceived that for some reason he had an ally and advocate in
Mr. Harum. He rose and said good-night, and John escorted him downstairs
to the door. "Pray think of it as favorably as you can," he said, as
they shook hands at parting.

"Putty nice kind of a man," remarked David when John came back; "putty
nice kind of a man. 'Bout the only 'quaintance you've made of his kind,
ain't he? Wa'al, he's all right fur 's he goes. Comes of good stock, I'm
told, an' looks it. Runs a good deal to emptins in his preachin' though,
they say. How do you find him?"

"I think I enjoy his conversation more than his sermons," admitted John
with a smile.

"Less of it at times, ain't the'?" suggested David. "I may have told
ye," he continued, "that I wa'n't a very reg'lar churchgoer, but I've
ben more or less in my time, an' when I did listen to the sermon all
through, it gen'ally seemed to me that if the preacher 'd put all the'
really was in it together he wouldn't need to have took only 'bout
quarter the time; but what with scorin' fer a start, an' laggin' on the
back stretch, an' ev'ry now an' then breakin' to a stan'still, I
gen'ally wanted to come down out o' the stand before the race was over.
The's a good many fast quarter hosses," remarked Mr. Harum, "but them
that c'n keep it up fer a full mile is scurce. What you goin' to do
about the music bus'nis, or hain't ye made up your mind yet?" he asked,
changing the subject.

"I like Mr. Euston," said John, "and he seems very much in earnest about
this matter; but I am not sure," he added thoughtfully, "that I can do
what he wants, and I must say that I am very reluctant to undertake it;
still, I don't know but that I ought to make the trial," and he looked
up at David.

"I guess I would if I wa