can make a poultice for her." As he made a hasty departure, he agreed to
complete the story later at his home, and gave careful directions for
finding the place.

A month later, two visitors called on John at his small, unpainted house
in the center of a hillside cotton patch.

A tall, thin Negress appeared in the doorway. "Yes, mam, John Van Hook
lives here. He's down in the field with his hoe, digging 'taters." She
leaned from the porch and called, "Daddy, Daddy! Somebody wants to see
you." Asked if John was her father, she answered "No, mam, he is my
husband. I started calling him Daddy when our child was little, so I've
been calling him that ever since. My name is Laney."

The walls of the room into which John invited his callers were crudely
plestered with newspapers and the small space was crowded with furniture
of various kinds and periods. The ladder-back chairs he designated for
his guests were beautiful. "They are plantation-made," he explained,
"and we've had 'em a mighty long time." On a reading table a pencil and
tablet with a half-written page lay beside a large glass lamp.
Newspapers and books covered several other tables. A freshly whitewashed
hearth and mantel were crowned by an old-fashioned clock, and at the end
of the room a short flight of steps led to the dining room, built on a
higher floor level.

"Now, let's see! Where was I?," John began. "Oh, yes, we were talking
about cornshuckings, when I had to leave your office. Well, I haven't
had much time to study about those cornshucking songs to get all the
words down right, but the name of one was _General Religh Hoe_, and
there was another one that was called, _Have a Jolly Crowd, and a Little