They all took sides in order to please him.
"I'll bet he can," said Hugh McTurg; "I'll bet a dollar on Daddy."
"I'll take the bet," said Joe Randall, and with great noise the match was arranged to come the first thing after supper.
"All right, sir; any time, sir. I'll let you know the old man is on earth yet."
While the girls were putting away the supper dishes, the young man lured Daddy out into the yard for a wrestling-match, but some of the others objected.
"Oh, now, that won't do! If Daddy was a young man"——
"What do you mean, sir? I am young enough for you, sir. Just let me get ahold o' you, sir, and I'll show you, you young rascal! you dem jackanapes!" he ended, almost shrieking with rage, as he shook his fist in the face of his grinning tormentors.
The others held him back with much apparent alarm, and ordered the other fellows away.
"There, there, Daddy, I wouldn't mind him! I wouldn't dirty my hands on him; he ain't worth it. Just come inside, and we'll have that dancing-match now."
Daddy reluctantly returned to the house, and, having surrendered his violin to Hugh McTurg, was ready for the contest. As he stepped into the middle of the room he was not altogether ludicrous. His rusty trousers were bagged at the knee, and his red woolen stockings showed between the tops of his moccasins and his pantaloon-legs; and his coat, utterly characterless as to color and cut, added to the stoop in his shoulders, and yet there was a rude sort of grace and a certain dignity about his bearing which kept down laughter. They were to have a square dance of the old-fashioned sort.