h upon their hands at one time. Two dressmakers were sewing for
Mary. A colored cook, with a flaming red turban, came up from
Worcester to superintend the culinary department, and a week before
the wedding Aunt Martha also arrived, bringing with her a quantity of
cut glass of all sizes and dimensions, the uses of which could not
even be guessed, though the widow declared upon her honor, a virtue by
which she always swore, that two of them were called "cellar dishes,"
adding that the "Lord only knew what that was!"

With all her quizzing, prying, and peeking, Mrs. Perkins was unable to
learn any thing definite with regard to the wedding dress, and as a
last resort, she appealed to Jenny, "who of course ought to know,
seein' she was goin' to stand up with 'em."

"O, yes, I know," said Jenny, mischievously, and pulling from her
pocket a bit of brown and white plaid silk,--Mary's travelling
dress,--she passed it to the widow, who straightway wondered at Mary's
taste in selecting "that gingham-looking thing!"

Occasionally the widow felt some doubt as she heard rumors of pink
brocades, India muslins, heavy silks, and embroidered merino
morning-gowns; "but law," thought she "them are for the city. Any
thing 'll do for the country, though I should s'pose she'd want to
look decent before all the Boston top-knots that are comin'."

Three days before the wedding, the widow's heart was made glad with a
card of invitation, though she wondered why Mrs. Mason should say she
would be "at home." "Of course she'd be to hum,--where else should she
be!"

It was amusing to see the airs which Mrs. Perkins took upon herself,
when conversing with some of her neighbors, who were not fortunate
enough to be invited. "They couldn't ask every body, and 'twas natural
for them to select from the best families."

Her pride, however, received a fall when she learned that Sally
Furbush had not only been invited, and presented with a black silk
dress for the occasion, but that George Moreland, who arrived the day
preceding the wedding, had gone for her himself, treating her with all
the deference that he would the most distinguished lady. And truly for
once Sally acquitted herself with a great deal of credit, and
remembering Miss Grundy's parting advice, to "keep her tongue between
her teeth," she so far restrained her loquacity, that a stranger would
never have thought of her being crazy.

The bridal day was bright, beautiful, and balmy, as the