ve being a new listener
must hear all these old tragic stories.

When meals were over, the family disposed themselves to their liking.
The head of the house invariably lit his pipe and sat in the chimney
corner to smoke, a custom quite familiar to Steve. The mother washed
the skillet and few utensils used about the meal, smoking her pipe the
while. The young girl sat down outside in the sun to play with her
baby, the big boys perhaps went off hunting and the children wandered
aimlessly in and out.

The fields of corn and tobacco had been planted and now there was
little to do but watch it grow, so they thought. The hogs practically
took care of themselves. What more could any one demand, a blank look
would unconsciously have inquired, if asked why they did not work.

When the day was over and the troop of children began to grow sleepy,
one after another dropped down upon the cabin floor, perhaps upon a
pallet, perhaps not, and fell asleep. The older ones followed in the
same way, as inclination suggested, and room was cheerfully made for
Steve among the rest. For a night or two the full chorus of audible
breathing wakened him frequently, but he soon became accustomed to
it.

In the morning the voice of some child was apt to be heard first:

"Mammy, I'm hongry."

And the reply would come, "Now you shet up, 'tain't time ter be
gittin' up yit," or perhaps the satisfied parent would yawn and say:

"Wal, I reckons I might as well git up and stop ye mouth," and so the
household would gradually emerge from slumber.

This was the normal daily life, but comedy and tragedy came to them
as to the rest of the world, and Steve had a taste of both during his
stay of a week.

Unlike Hollow Hut it was a somewhat thickly settled community and one
moonlight night some young folks from neighbouring cabins came in.
Steve's friends made the visitors welcome and hailed with delight the
banjo which one of them had brought. The young folks were out for a
frolic and laugh and joke were ready.

Pretty soon the banjo began to tune up and set everybody's feet to
patting.

"Clear out things," called one of the boys, and in no time the few
articles the room held were out of the way. Then the air vibrated with
"Hook and Line," "Sourwood Mountain," and other lively tunes, while
everybody danced except Steve, who crept to the farthest corner and in
wonder looked and listened. He had never seen dancing or heard music
before.

The girl w