hilds. "She ain't never got her tongue
with her when there's strangers. Ain't, Tillie?"

Tillie's burning face was bent over her plate, and she did not attempt
to answer. Mr. Fairchilds' eyes rested for an instant on the delicate,
sensitive countenance of the girl. But his attention was diverted by an
abrupt exclamation from Mrs. Wackernagel.

"Oh, Abe!" she suddenly cried, "you ain't tole Teacher yet about the
Albright sisters astin' you, on market, what might your name be!"

The tone in which this serious omission was mentioned indicated that it
was an anecdote treasured among the family archives.

"Now, I would mebbe of forgot that!" almost in consternation said Mr.
Wackernagel. "Well," he began, concentrating his attention upon the
teacher, "it was this here way. The two Miss Albrights they had bought
butter off of us, on market, for twenty years back a'ready, and all
that time we didn't know what was their name, and they didn't know
ourn; fur all, I often says to mom, 'Now I wonder what's the name of
them two thin little women.' Well, you see, I was always a wonderful
man fur my jokes. Yes, I was wery fond of makin' a joke, still. So here
one day the two sisters come along and bought their butter, and then
one of 'em she says, 'Excuse me, but here I've been buyin' butter off
of yous fur this twenty years back a'ready and I ain't never heard your
name. What might your name BE?' Now I was such a man fur my jokes,
still, so I says to her"--Mr. Wackernagel's whole face twinkled with
amusement, and his shoulders shook with laughter as he contemplated the
joke he had perpetrated--"I says, 'Well, it MIGHT be Gener'l
Jackson'"--laughter again choked his utterance, and the stout form of
Mrs. Wackernagel also was convulsed with amusement, while Amanda and
Rebecca giggled appreciatively. Tillie and the doctor alone remained
unaffected. "'It might be Gener'l Jackson,' I says. 'But it ain't. It's
Abe Wackernagel,' I says. You see," he explained, "she ast me what
MIGHT my name be.--See?--and I says 'It might be Jackson'--MIGHT be,
you know, because she put it that way, what might it be. 'But it
ain't,' I says. 'It's Wackernagel.'"

Mr. and Mrs. Wackernagel and their daughters leaned back in their
chairs and gave themselves up to prolonged and exuberant laughter, in
which the teacher obligingly joined as well as he was able.

When this hilarity had subsided, Mr. Wackernagel turned to Mr.
Fairchilds with a question. "Are you