the Fourth of July fireworks. She was deef, too, and used an ear-trumpet
pretty nigh as big as a steamer's ventilator.

Maybe she was "dying to know us," but she didn't have a fit trying to
show it. Me and Jonadab felt we'd ought to be sociable, and so we set,
one on each side of her on the sofy, and bellered: "How d'ye do?" and
"Fine day, ain't it?" into that ear-trumpet. She didn't say much, but
she'd couple on the trumpet and turn to whichever one of us had hailed,
heeling over to that side as if her ballast had shifted. She acted to me
kind of uneasy, but everybody that come into that parlor--and they kept
piling in all the time--looked more'n middling joyful. They kept pretty
quiet, too, so that every yell we let out echoed, as you might say, all
'round. I begun to git shaky at the knees, as if I was preaching to a
big congregation.

After a spell, Jonadab not being able to think of anything more to say,
and remembering Phil's orders, leans over and whoops into the trumpet.

"I'm real glad your son done so well with his laundry," he says.

Well, sir, Phil had give us to understand that them congratulations
would make a hit, and they done it. The women 'round the room turned red
and some of 'em covered their mouths with their handkerchiefs. The
men looked glad and set up and took notice. Ebenezer wa'n't in the
room--which was a mercy--but your old mess-mate, Catesby-Stuart, looked
solemn as ever and never turned a hair.

But as for old lady Granby--whew! She got redder'n she was afore,
which was a miracle, pretty nigh. She couldn't speak for a minute--just
cackled like a hen. Then she busts out with: "How dare you!" and