Now I’m going to answer your letter, and then I sha’ n’t have to think
about it any longer. I was sorry to hear about poor Reddie. But if it
had been Tommy, then it would have been a great deal worse. Think of
that. Dorry and I have been wishing ’most a week about something, and
now I’ll tell you what ’t is about. About a party. ’T is going to be at
Colonel Grey’s. He lives in a large light-colored brick house, with a
piazza round it, and a fountain, and bronze dogs, and everything lovely.
It is Maud Grey’s birthday party. Sixteen years old. Old and young are
going to be invited, because her little sister’s birthday comes next day
to hers. Now sometimes when there’s a party some of the biggest of our
fellows get invited, because there are not very many young gentlemen in
town, and they are glad to take some from the school. But we two never
have yet. But Dorry thinks we stand a better chance now, for we’ve been
to dancing-school, and will do to fill up sets with. Maud Grey didn’t
go as a scholar, but she went spectator sometimes, and took my partner’s
place once, when her string of beads broke. Dorry was in the same set. I
never polkaed better in my life, for she took me round and made me keep
time whether I wanted to or not, but I told Dorry I felt just like a
little boy that had been lifted over a puddle. He’s afraid she won’t
remember us, but I guess I’m afraid she will, and then won’t invite such
a bad dancer. We two thought we’d walk by the house, just for fun, and
make ourselves look tall. So we held up our chins, and swung two little
canes we’d cut, going along, for small chaps are plenty enough, but
young gentlemen go off to college, or stores, soon’s they’re of any
size. The blinds were all shut up, but Dorry said there was hope if the
slats were turned the right way. Blind slats here move all ways.
Yesterday, in school-time, I saw a colored man coming towards the
school-house, and thought ’t was Cicero, the one that works for Colonel
Grey, coming with the invitations, and made a loud “hem!” for Dorry to
look up, and a hiss, to mean Cicero, and pointed out doors. ’t wasn’t
very loud, but that one we call Brown Bread, that has eyes in the back
of his head, and ears all over him, and smells rat where there isn’t
any, and wears slippers, so you can’t hear him, even if ’tis still
enough to drop a pin,--I thought he was over the other side of the room,
tending to his own affairs, but all of a sudden he was standing just
back of me, and I had to lose a recess just for that. And ’t wasn’t
Cicero after all, but the one that comes after the leavings.--(Somebody
knocks.)
_Afternoon._--Hurrah! We’re going! The one that knocked at the door was
Spicey, with our invitations. When I come home I’ll bring them home to
show. They came through the post-office. We expect they all came to the
professor, with orders to pick out the ten tallest ones, for they are
directed in his writing. I never went to such a party, and shouldn’t
know how to behave, if ’t wasn’t for Dorry. First thing you do is to go
up and speak to the lady of the house and the lady of the party. I mean
after you’ve been up stairs, and looked in the looking-glass and
smoothed down your hair. Mine always comes up again. I’ve tried water
and I’ve tried oil, and I’ve tried beef-marrow, but ’t is bound to come
up. Dorry says I ought to put it in a net. Don’t you remember that time
I had my head shaved off close, and how it looked like an orange? I’m
glad ’t isn’t so red as it was. ’T is considerable dark now. When you
come down you walk up to the lady of the house and say “How do you do?”
and shake hands, and when you go home you have to bid her good-night,
and say you’ve had a very pleasant time, and shake hands again. Not
shove out your fist, as if you were shoving a croquet-ball, but slow,
with the fingers about straight, and not speak it out blunt, as if you
were singing out “good-night!” to the fellers, but quite softly and
smiling. Dorry’s been showing me beforehand. Bubby Short stood up in the
floor, and had the bedspread tied round him with a cod-line, for a
trail, and shavings for curls. He was the lady of the house and we
walked up to him, and said, “How do you do, Mrs. Grey?” and so forth.
Dorry drew this picture of us. He draws better than I do. I will write
about the party.
[Illustration]
From your Cousin,