tters. All the cold provisions had
been laid upon the table. The serving woman in the kitchen had
received full instruction as to those that remained in or about the
stove. The ladies had doffed their big aprons, and had donned their
Sunday coifs and kerchiefs and better gowns, and were now assembled
in the upper parlour, where the spinning wheels stood, ready to
receive the guests when they should come.

Cherry's absence had not yet excited any uneasiness, although her
aunt had made one or two severe remarks as to her love for
junketing abroad, and frivolity in general. Her sisters had laid
out her dress in readiness for her, and had taken her part with
their accustomed warmth and goodwill. They were not at all afraid
of her not turning up safe and sound. Cherry had many friends, and
it was just as likely as not that she would stop and gossip all
along the bridge as she came home. She took something of the
privilege of a spoiled child, despite her aunt's rigid training.
She knew her sisters never looked askance at her; that her father
found it hard to scold severely, however grave he might try to look
to please Aunt Susan; and it was perfectly well known in the house
that she had no liking for those grave debates that formed the
prelude to the supper downstairs. It was like enough she would
linger without as long as she dared, and then spend as much time as
possible strewing her rushes and dressing herself, so that she
should not have long to listen to the talk of the elders.

Jemima and Keziah had long since trained themselves to that perfect
stillness and decorous silence that was deemed fitting for women,
and especially young women, in presence of their elders, They had
even begun to take a certain interest in the questions discussed.
But to Cherry it was simple penance to have to sit for one hour or
more, her tongue and her active limbs alike chained, and her
sisters were quite prepared for the absence of the younger girl
when the guests dropped in one by one.

Their uncle, Abraham Dyson, was the first arrival, and behind him
followed his son and daughter, Jacob and Rachel. Rachel was a buxom
young woman of five-and-twenty, shortly to be advanced to the
dignity of a wedded wife. She would have been married before but
for the feeble health of her mother; but the ceremony was not to be
postponed much longer on that account, for fear the bridegroom, a
silk mercer in thriving way of business, should grow weary of