g, you cannot really be expected to know. When you invite city
people to a formal dinner, everything must be done decently and in order.
It is not like asking the rector and Adele to drop in to tea any time."

"Fudge!" responded Miss Deborah.

A faint color began to show in Miss Ruth's faded cheek, and she set her
lips firmly. "The invitations should be written," she said.

It was settled, as usual, by each sister doing exactly as she pleased.
Miss Deborah gave her invitations by word of mouth the next day, standing
in the rain, under a dripping umbrella, by the church porch, while on
Monday each of the desired guests received a formal note in Miss Ruth's
precise and delicate hand, containing the compliments of the Misses
Woodhouse, and a request for the honor of their company at dinner on
Thursday, November 12th, at half past six o'clock.

A compromise had been effected about the hour. Miss Ruth had insisted
that it should be at eight, while Miss Deborah contended that as they
dined, like all the rest of Ashurst, at noon, it was absurd to make it
later than six, and Miss Ruth's utmost persuasion had only brought it to
half past.

During these days of preparation Miss Ruth could only flutter upon the
outskirts of the kitchen, which just now was a solemn place, and her
suggestions were scarcely noticed, and never heeded. It was hard to have
no share in those long conversations between Sarah and her sister, and
not to know the result of the mysterious researches among the receipts
which had been written out on blue foolscap and bound in marbled
pasteboard before Miss Deborah was born.

Her time, however, came. Miss Deborah owned that no one could arrange a
table like Miss Ruth. The tall silver candlesticks with twisted arms, the
fruit in the open-work china baskets, the slender-stemmed glasses for the
wines, the decanters in the queer old coasters, and the great bunch of
chrysanthemums in the silver punch-bowl in the centre,--no one could
place them so perfectly as her sister.

"Ruth," she affirmed, "has a touch," and she contemplated the board with
great satisfaction.

"Pray," said Miss Ruth, as she quietly put back in its place a fruit dish
which Miss Deborah had "straightened," "pray where are Mr. Dale's
comfits? They must be on the tray to be taken into the parlor."

"Sarah will fetch them," answered Miss Deborah; and at that moment Sarah
entered with the candy and a stately and elaborate dish, which she plac