Miss Ruth went, but had scarcely crossed the threshold when Miss Deborah
cried, "Come back, come back, Ruth! You must be here when they come," and
then bustled away herself to fetch the housemaid to be ready to open the
door, though, as Miss Ruth had said, it was a good quarter of an hour
before the most impatient guest might be expected.

Miss Ruth went about, straightening a chair, or pulling an antimacassar
to one side or the other, or putting an ornament in a better light, and
then stopping to snuff the candles in the brass sconces on either side of
the old piano. This and her anxiety about the venison fretted Miss
Deborah so much, it was a great relief to hear the first carriage, and
catch a glimpse of Mrs. Dale hurrying across the hall and up the stairs,
her well-known brown satin tucked up to avoid a speck of mud or dust.

Miss Deborah plucked Miss Ruth's sleeve, and, settling the lace at her
own throat and wrists, bade her sister stand beside her on the rug. "And
do, dear Ruth, try and have more repose of manner," she said, breathing
quite quickly with excitement.

When Mrs. Dale entered, rustling in her shiny satin, with Mr. Dale
shambling along behind her, the sisters greeted her with that stately
affection which was part of the occasion.

"So glad to see you, dear Adele," said Miss Deborah and Miss Ruth in
turn; and Mrs. Dale responded with equal graciousness, and no apparent
recollection that they had almost quarreled that very morning at the
post-office, when Mrs. Dale said that the first cloth to be removed at
a dinner should be folded in fours, and Miss Deborah that it should be
folded in threes.