The lovers would slap each other on the back, going out onto the porch in a romp every little while. ‘Say, you can stay in here and kiss. You don’t have to be a-goen out in the cold. Might as well,’ some voice called out.

The girl with the white stockings was Sallie Lou Brown and her fellow was Tim McNeal. Sallie Lou was very quick with her white stockings that twinkled in and out of her dress as she danced, and her green flowered dress made her look very slim up and down. Rosie’s dress was dark and her shoes were old and scabbed, but she had a good time, and Ellen minded her own broken shoes much less. The Turpin girls had on dim cotton dresses of no colour at all, and some of the young men had no neckties. A feeling of intimacy with the place had come to Ellen and this helped her to move lightly in the dance-games. She knew the fireplace with the broken dog iron and she knew the knot-holes in the floor by the door and the window where the water bucket stood. Mr Wheatley, Dorine’s father, took off his shoes and walked about the house in his stockings. They were of grey wool and they wrinkled about the ankles just as Ellen knew. Voices grew familiar as recognised from the other room, and gestures and looks came back again and again to this one and that. All were weary of dancing, and they gathered about the fire in the larger room, jostling one another on the wide stone hearth, their voices flowing fast, running out from the high warmth of their blood

‘Durned if here ain’t a louse,’ one said.

‘Oh, shut up!’

‘Keep hit to yourself, hit’s your’n.’

‘Well it is one, now.’

‘Well kill hit then.’

‘Hit’s a tater bug.’

‘Hit’s a gnat or a flea, maybe.’

‘Flea your hind leg! Hit’s a body louse.’

‘Step on it with your foot.’

‘What was it, Dorine?’

‘It was a spider, Mammy.’

‘Call hit a spider for manners!’

They were sitting on chairs and benches and on the floor, drinking a hot drink made of eggs and milk, a custard, from cups and mugs. There were small round cakes. ‘There’s plenty of spoons for everybody to have one,’ Mrs Wheatley said. She was eager for everyone to like the custard. They romped over the food, pulling at arms and legs, pinching flesh. They did like the custard and each one tried to say how much he liked it until Eli outspoke all the rest.

‘Gee durn! I wish I had a stream of this-here stuff a-runnen through me all the time.’

Eli closed his eyes to feel the stream he had pictured and everybody laughed, feeling it likewise. Elmer slapped Ellen on the back in his happiness and she was glad again that she was there. Mr Wheatley sang a bit of a verse:

The Mammoth Cave, oh, what a spot!