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Milton attended this dance, and saw Daddy for the first time earning his money pleasantly. From that time on the associations around his personality were less severe, and they came to like him better. He came early, with his old fiddle in a time-worn white-pine box. His hair was neatly combed to the top of his long, narrow head, and his face was very clean. The boys all greeted him with great pleasure, and asked him where he would sit.

“Right on that table, sir; put a chair up there.”

He took his chair on the kitchen-table as if it were a throne. He wore huge moccasins of moose-hide on his feet, and for special occasions like this added a paper collar to his red woollen shirt. He took off his coat and laid it across his chair for a cushion. It was all very funny to the young people, but they obeyed him laughingly, and while they “formed on,” he sawed his violin and coaxed it up to concert pitch, and twanged it and banged it into proper tunefulness.

“A-a-a-ll ready there!” he rasped out, with prodigious force. “Everybody git into his place!” Then, lifting one huge foot, he put the fiddle under his chin, and, raising his bow till his knuckles touched the strings, he yelled, “Already, G’LANG!” and brought his foot down with a startling bang on the first note. Rye doodle duo, doodle doo.

As he went on and the dancers fell into rhythm, the clatter of heavy boots seemed to thrill him with old-time memories, and he kept boisterous time with his foot, while his high, rasping nasal rang high above the confusion of tongues and heels and swaying forms.

“Ladies‘ gran’ change! Four hands round! Balance all! Elly-man left! Back to play-cis.”

His eyes closed in a sort of intoxication of pleasure, but he saw all that went on in some miraculous way.

“First lady lead to the right–toodle rum rum! Gent foller after (step along thar)! Four hands round–“

The boys were immensely pleased with him. They delighted in his antics rather than in his tunes, which were exceedingly few and simple. They seemed never to be able to get enough of one tune which he called “Honest John,” and which he played in his own way, accompanied by a chant which he meant, without a doubt, to be musical.

“HON-ers tew your pardners–tee teedle deedle dee dee dee dee! Stand up straight an’ put on your style! Right an’ left four–“

The hat was passed by the floor-manager during the evening, and Daddy got nearly three dollars, which delighted Milton very much.

At supper he insisted on his prerogative, which was to take the prettiest girl out to supper.

“Look-a-here, Daddy, ain’t that crowdin’ the mourners?” objected the others.

“What do you mean by that, sir? No, sir! Always done it, in Michigan and Yark State both; yes, sir.”

He put on his coat ceremoniously, while the tittering girls stood about the room waiting. He did not delay. His keen eyes had made selection long before, and, approaching Rose Watson with old-fashioned, elaborate gallantry, he said: “May I have the pleasure?” and marched out triumphantly, amidst shouts of laughter.

His shrill laugh rang high above the rest at the table, as he said: “I’m the youngest man in this crowd, sir! Demmit, I bet a hat I c’n dance down any man in this crowd; yes, sir. The old man can do it yet.”

They all took sides in order to please him.

“I’ll bet he can,” said Hugh McTurg; “I’ll bet a dollar on Daddy.”

“I’ll take the bet,” said Joe Randall, and with great noise the match was arranged to come the first thing after supper.

“All right, sir; any time, sir. I’ll let you know the old man is on earth yet.”

While the girls were putting away the supper dishes, the young man lured Daddy out into the yard for a wrestling-match, but some others objected.

“Oh, now, that won’t do! If Daddy was a young man–“