"Put your card there," she instructed him, bobbing her head towards the
exact centre of the salver, and thereby completely covering one eye with
that abominably big and wobbly cap.

The reverend gentleman gravely complied, whereupon the maid swung
herself around, but with caution, somewhat after the manner of a boat
carrying too much sail.

After Mrs. Van Stark had come down, the parlor maid reappeared without
her badges of office, and was duly presented to the rector of the
church, who made no sign, save a twinkle of his eye, of having met her
in another, and humbler capacity, but shook hands and talked to her
without that insufferable air of patronage which elder people at times
seem to delight to bestow upon their juniors.

As he was taking his leave, he explained that he was going down into the
grove for a little while to read and to take pictures.

As he went out, they met, coming in, an old lady whom Grandmother Van
Stark greeted with rare cordiality, kissing her on both cheeks and
calling her Tildy Ann. She called grandmother Jane Somerset, and
explained that her son, going to town, had brought her that far on his
way, and would call for her on his return.

She had brought her knitting in a beautiful silk bag, and explained that
she was making a long purse of black silk and steel beads, for the sale
at the church.

Beth brought grandmother's bag down to her, and grandmother produced
silk stockings that she was knitting for the same purpose.