"No, indeed, mother," and clapping my hands, "I like you too well."

She laughed.

"These Morgesons beat the dogs," I heard Temperance say, as we shut
the door and went upstairs.

I skipped over the shiny, lead-colored floor of the chamber in my
stockings, while mother was taking from the bureau a clean suit for
me, and singing "Bonny Doon," with the sweetest voice in the world.
She soon arrayed me in my red calico dress, spotted with yellow stars.
I was proud of its buckram undersleeves, though they scratched my
arms, and admired its wings, which extended over the protecting
buckram.

"It is three o'clock; the company will come soon. Be careful of your
dress. You must stand by me at the table to hand the cups of tea."

She left me standing in a chair, so that I might see my pantalettes in
the high-hung glass, and the effect of my balloon-like sleeves. Then
I went back to the kitchen to show myself to Temperance, and to enjoy
the progress of tea.

The table was laid in the long keeping-room adjoining the kitchen,
covered with a striped cloth of crimson and blue, smooth as satin to
the touch. Temperance had turned the plates upside-down around the
table, and placed in a straight line through the middle a row of
edibles. She was going to have waffles, she said, and shortcake; they
were all ready to bake, and she wished to the Lord they would come and