Once George did all the talking while John Jay listened with his head bashfully tipped to one side; now they seemed to have changed places.

It was George who listened.
John Jay had been kept at home for several days, and had much to tell.
For an hour or more he entertained George with accounts of his rabbit snares, his nutting expeditions, and his persimmon hunts.

He told about the dye Mammy had made from the sumach berries which he had carried home, and how Ivy had dropped her pet duck into it.

He imitated Bud's antics when he upset the kettle of soft soap, and he had much to say about the young owl which they had caught, and caged under a wash-tub.
He did not notice that he was doing all the talking this afternoon, but filled the pauses that sometimes fell between them by idly playing jack-stones with a handful of acorns.

George was thinking as they sat there that this might be the last time that they two would ever sit in this way together, and he was searching for some words with which to prepare the child for a sudden leave-taking in case it should be soon.
At last he cleared his throat.