A PIANO IN ARKANSAS. 153 
Miss Patience smiled, and looked at Cash. 
Cash’s knees trembled. 
All eyes in the room turned upon him. 
Cash sweat all over. 
Miss Patience said she was gratified to hear that Mr. 
Cash was a musician; she admired people who had a 
musical taste. Whereupon Cash fell into a chair, as he 
afterwards observed, ‘“ chawed-up.”’ 
Oh that Beau Brummel, or any of his admirers could 
have seen Mo Mercer all this while! Calm as a sum- 
mer morning—complacent as a newly-painted sign—he 
smiled and patronized, and was the only unexcited per- 
son in the room. 
Miss Patience rose,—a sigh escaped from all pre- 
sent,—the piano was evidently to be brought in. She 
approached the thick-leafed table, and removed the 
covering, throwing it carelessly and gracefully aside; 
opened the instrument, and presented the beautiful ar- 
rangement of dark and white keys. 
Mo Mercer at this, for the first time in his life, look- 
ed confused ; he was Cash’s authority in his descriptions 
of the appearance of the piano; while Cash himself, be- 
gan to recover the moment that he ceased to be an ob- 
ject of attention. Many a whisper now ran through the 
room as to the “tones,” and more particularly the 
“crank ;” none could see them. 
Miss Patience took her seat, ran her fingers over a 
few octaves, and if “Moses in Egypt” was not perfectly 
7* 
