"Nevertheless, Aunt Clara," said a voice at the open window, "I want to borrow your father's old Revolutionary musket, which you keep hanging up over your bed."
Two or three girls screamed at the suddenness of the sound, and the young men started in their seats.
"Oh, John Stevens, why do you frighten us like that?" called Ellen. "Come here and give an account of yourself. Where have you been since you left us in the canyon, and what did you leave us so unceremoniously for?"
"Business, business," answered the young man, entering the room as he spoke. "What are you all doing here, winding yarn as peacefully and calmly as if there were nothing of more importance on earth."
"Well, is there anything of more importance, John?" asked Tom Allen. "Think of it, man, holding yarn for the prettiest girl in Salt Lake. I know what ails you, you have no yarn to hold. Here, Aunt Clara, give him some yarn to hold, and there is Ellen. She can wind up that slow-moving tongue of his at the same time."
"The yarn around and round she slung
To make him loose his sluggish tongue,"
cried Charlie Rose, tauntingly.
"Oh, John, do tell us the news. Don't bother with Tom and Charlie; tell us the news," Ellen persisted.
"If Aunt Clara will give me one of her dough-nuts, I will tell all the news I have to tell."
"Why don't you say that you will tell all there is to tell, John; you are so non-committal?" chimed in Diantha, who understood how much and how little might be expected in the way of telling or talking from John Stevens.