rose to her feet, turned her head close to Bart's,
pointed to the incoming guests, whispered something
in his ear that made him laugh, listened while he
whispered to her in return, and in obedience to the
summons crossed the room to meet a group of the
neighbors, among them old Judge Woolworthy, in a
snuff-colored coat, high black stock, and bald head,
and his bustling little wife. Bart's last whisper to
Lucy was in explanation of the little wife's manner
--who now, all bows and smiles, was shaking hands
with everybody about her.

Then came Uncle Ephraim Tipple, and close beside
him walked his spouse, Ann, in a camel's-hair
shawl and poke-bonnet, the two preceded by Uncle
Ephraim's stentorian laugh, which had been heard
before their feet had touched the porch outside.
Mrs. Cromartin now bustled in, accompanied by her
two daughters--slim, awkward girls, both dressed
alike in high waists and short frocks; and after them
the Bunsbys, father, mother, and son--all smiles,
the last a painfully thin young lawyer, in a low collar
and a shock of whitey-brown hair, "looking like a
patent window-mop resting against a wall," so Lucy
described him afterward to Martha when she was
putting her to bed; and finally the Colfords and Bronsons,
young and old, together with Pastor Dellenbaugh,
the white-haired clergyman who preached in
the only church in Warehold.