to Greenfield for a housekeeper.

Lizzy suddenly discovered that she was hungry, and invited John into the
kitchen to get a piece of pie; but, after all, instead of eating hers
while he was eating his, she went up-stairs, brushed out her hair
and coiled it up with a coral-topped comb, that came to light, very
strangely, just in time,--put on her merino frock, her bracelet, and her
slippers,--rolled herself up in shawls and hoods and mittens, and was
lifted into John's buggy, to old Chloe's great delight, who held the
lamp, grinning like a lantern herself, and tucking "Mr. John's" fox-skin
round his feet, as if he had been ten years old.

So Lizzy Griswold did get to Coventry the night before Thanksgiving,
after all; and when Uncle Boynton met her at the door, he called her "my
dear daughter." Perhaps, as John had told Lizzy, on the drive over, that
her father had heard all about his business and his intentions, in that
letter she did not see, the young lady had decided to disinherit him,
and adopt Uncle Boynton in his place; rather an unfair proceeding, it
is true, since the letter was withheld by John's special request; and,
indeed, Lizzy didn't act like a "cruel parient" to her father, when he
came, after uncle, to give her a welcome.

They had a merry time at Coventry that Thanksgiving,--even merrier
than another smaller assemblage, that took place at Greenfield about
Christmas, when Polly Mariner came over a week before-hand to make Sam
a new suit throughout, and Lizzy looked prettier than anybody ever did
before, in a fresh white dress, and a white rose, off grandmother's
tea-rose-bush, in her hair. It is on record, that she behaved no better
than she did that evening when somebody found her crying in a blue
calico; for Sam was overheard to say, as Polly hustled him off to bed,