The old folks are coming
back."
"Old folks!" I thought, and Aunt Clara is older than either of them.
Father stopped and gave an ugly weed a whack with his cane. Then he
stooped and rooted it up, Sabbath-day though it was. I presume he
considered it an ox in a pit, for the moment.
Aunt Clara continued:--"The same tune you were at this afternoon used to
be a great favorite in our school. It's as old as the hills. I wonder if
Israel did not let out his voice in it! And Sally, she wouldn't be
behind _him_, I warrant you."
Jerusha and I exchanged glances.
"It happened, one evening,--and that's what I was laughing at this
afternoon. You see, the singing-master, if the music was not going to
suit him, would pull the class straight up in the middle of it, and make
them begin again. The giggling girl that I was speaking of, she was
always fuller of her own nonsense than of learning. This particular
evening she was tempted of the Evil One to alter the words to her own
purposes, just for the confusion of those close to her; and a dreadful
mess she would get them into. It was wrong, very wrong indeed," Aunt
Clara added, with a face that was meant to be serious, while her voice
laughed, in spite of her.
"On this evening, they were singing the very tune, as I told you.
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