Forrest Felton was a fine performer on the flute; Mr. Lanman played the violin, and his wife the piano; and they discoursed some excellent music. Then, still better, there was singing. The deep-chested Forrest had a superb bass voice; Lanman a fine tenor; Annie's voice was light, but exceedingly sweet and expressive; and they sang several pieces together, to her own accompaniment on the piano. Then Lanman said,—
"Now it is your turn, Jack."
"But you know," replied Jack, "I never play or sing for anybody, when your wife or Forrest is present."
"True; but you can dance."
"O yes! a dance, Jack!" cried Annie.
Vinnie clapped her hands. "Has Jack told you," she said, "how, on the steamboat going from Albany to New York, after they had had their pockets picked, he and George Greenwood collected a little money,—George playing the flute and Jack dancing, for the amusement of the passengers?"
Jack laughed, and looked at his shoes.
"Well, come to the kitchen, where there's no carpet on the floor, and I'll give you what I call the 'Canal Driver's Hornpipe.' Bring your flute, Forrest."
So they went to the kitchen; and all stood, while Jack, with wild grace of attitude and wonderful ease and precision of movement, performed one of his most difficult and spirited dances.
When it was ended, in the midst of the laughter and applause, he caught up a hat, and gayly passed it around for pennies. But while the men were feeling in their pockets, he appeared suddenly to remember where he was.