“Miss Shepherd,—I feel that my remarkable conduct at your house a few weeks ago needs an explanation, and I write this to confess candidly that it was caused by my ignorance, and should not be regarded as a lack of respect to you or your father and mother.
“It is because I have lived in the backwoods all my life, and because no one ever took sufficient interest in me to say that I should have removed my cap from my head, but if I am forgiven, and allowed to visit you again, I will be careful that there is no repetition of the offence. With reference to the tiresome song I sang, I have only the same plea; I did not know any better. I know now that I cannot sing; I can only bellow. When I tell you that the noise I made is regarded as music in Fairview, you will realize more vividly than I can tell you that the community where I have grown up is not cultured. I am distressed that I acted as I did, and hope you will accept this humble apology. Please express my regrets to your father and mother, and regard this note as in confidence.
“Very truly yours,
Jo Erring.”
After folding the note carefully, and putting it back in the envelope from which he had taken it, he inquired:—
“What do you think of it?”
Knowing Barker had suggested it, and probably dictated the words, I said it was neat and appropriate, and the best thing that could be done under the circumstances, for I had no opinion of my own on the delicate question.
“They are the only well-bred people I have ever known, if I except Barker and Agnes,” Jo said, after a long silence, “and though I should like to visit them often, I am afraid I can never get the courage to go there again. They have undoubtedly a poor opinion of me, for they can never understand how a young man of my age could be so uncouth, but other families of good manners will perhaps come to Fairview, and I intend to take lessons from Barker, and cultivate their acquaintance. I have great respect for polished people, but I never admired a quality in others that I did not lack it myself, therefore I fear I shall make but poor progress. But this is a small matter compared with learning the mill business. Perhaps I had better renounce society until I am the best miller on the river.”
“It won’t be long, Jo,” I answered, and feeling that what I said was true.
“Barker says he can teach me all he knows in half a year. After that, I will experiment for myself, and perhaps I may be able to discover something which will repay him for his kindness to me. If I am apt at anything—which I sometimes doubt—it is with machinery, and there is so little of it at Barker’s that I hope I will be able to master it all in a few months. I am familiar with all of it now, and I shall work very hard until I can take it all apart, and put it together again better than it was before.”
We were both quiet a long while, busy with our own thoughts, until Jo said:—