have it over with. With the silver sugar-tongs I slyly nipped lumps
of sugar for my private eating, and surveyed my features in the
distorting mirror of the pot-bellied silver teapot, ordinarily laid up
in flannel. When the company had arrived, Temperance advised me to go
in the parlor.

"Sit down, when you get there, and show less," she said. I went in
softly, and stood behind mother's chair, slightly abashed for a moment
in the presence of the party--some eight or ten ladies, dressed
in black levantine, or cinnamon-colored silks, who were seated in
rocking-chairs, all the rocking-chairs in the house having been
carried to the parlor for the occasion. They were knitting, and every
one had a square velvet workbag. Most of them wore lace caps, trimmed
with white satin ribbon. They were larger, more rotund, and older than
mother, whose appearance struck me by contrast. Perhaps it was the
first time I observed her dress; her face I must have studied before,
for I knew all her moods by it. Her long, lusterless, brown hair was
twisted around a high-topped tortoise-shell comb; it was so heavy and
so carelessly twisted that the comb started backward, threatening
to fall out. She had minute rings of filigreed gold in her ears.
Her dress was a gray pongee, simply made and short; I could see her
round-toed morocco shoes, tied with black ribbon. She usually took
out her shoestrings, not liking the trouble of tying them. A ruffle of
fine lace fell around her throat, and the sleeves of her short-waisted
dress were puffed at the shoulders. Her small white hands were folded
in her lap, for she was idle; on the little finger of her left hand
twinkled a brilliant garnet ring, set with diamonds. Her face was
colorless, the forehead extremely low, the nose and mouth finely cut,
the eyes of heavenly blue. Although youth had gone, she was beautiful,
with an indescribable air of individuality. She influenced all who