"Well, then, as if he was pleased."
"It was because he was amused; he was laughing at you, you silly child!"
"Do you think so?" asked Nora, with a sudden change of tone from gay to grave.
"I am quite sure of it, dear," replied the elder sister, speaking her real opinion.
"Laughing at me," repeated Nora to herself, and she fell into thought.
Meanwhile, with a nod to one a smile to another and a word to a third, the young heir and his party passed down the whole length of the room, and retired through an upper door. As soon as they were gone the negro fiddlers, six in number, led by Jovial, entered, took their seats, tuned their instruments, and struck up a lively reel.
There was an, immediate stir; the rustic beaus sought their belles, and sets were quickly formed.
A long, lanky, stooping young man, with a pale, care-worn face and grayish hair, and dressed in a homespun jacket and trousers, came up to the sisters.
"Dance, Hannah?" he inquired.
"No, thank you, Reuben; take Nora out—she would like to."