ALL of Grace's spare hours for a fortnight after Caleb's departure
were spent in recalling and applying the makeshift furniture devices
of her native village and those described in back numbers of "Ladies'
Own" papers and magazines, as well as all the upholstery and other
decorative methods of her sister-saleswomen in the days when she
and they had far more taste than money. Chairs and lounges were
extemporized from old boxes and barrels, cushioned with straw or
corn-husks, and covered with chintz. A roll of cheap matting, ordered
from the city, drove the rugs from the sitting room and parlor, and
the cheapest of hangings replaced the lace curtains at the windows.
All of the framed pictures were sent upstairs, and upon the walls were
affixed, with furniture tacks, many borderless pictures, plain and
colored, from the collection which Philip and Grace had made, in past
years, from weekly papers and Christmas "Supplements."
The vases, too, disappeared, though substitutes for them were found.
Dainty tables, brackets, etc., were replaced by some made from
fragments of boxes, the completed structures being stained to imitate
more costly woods, and instead of the couple's darling bric-à-brac
appeared oddities peculiar to the country--some birds and small animals
stuffed by Black Sam, birds'-nests, dried flowers, a mass of heads
of wheat, oats, rye, and sorghum arranged as a great bouquet, some
turkey-tail fans, and so many other things that had attracted Grace in
her drives and walks that there seemed no room on mantel, tables, and
walls for all of them.
"There!" Grace exclaimed, as she ushered her husband into the parlor at
the end of a day expended on finishing touches. "What do you think of
it?"
"Bless me!" Philip exclaimed. "Absolutely harmonious in color, besides
being far fuller than it was before. 'Tis quite as pretty, too, in
general effect. Don't imagine for a moment, however, that your selected
list of old cats will appreciate it."
"I _shall_ imagine it, and I don't believe I shall be disappointed. All
human nature is susceptible to general effect. Besides, Mrs. Taggess
is to be here, and all of them are fond of her, and she will say many
things that I can't. I shall boast only when they tell me that they
suppose my husband did most of the work--if any of them are clever
enough to detect the difference between what is here and what the G. A.
R. men and other guests have reported."
The invitations were given informally, though long in advance, to a
midday dinner on the first day of "Court-week,"--a day set apart by
common consent in hundreds of counties, for a general flocking to town.
The guests selected were--according to Caleb, who was consulted when
the plan was first formed--the ten most virulent feminine gossips in
the county. Black Sam's wife had been employed to assist for the day
at cooking and serving, and among the dishes were many which would
be entirely new to the guests. At one end of the table sat Grace,
"dressed," as one of the guests said afterwards, "as all-fired as a
gal that was expectin' her feller, an' was boun' to make him pop the
question right straight off." At the other end of the table was Mrs.
Taggess, plainly attired, except for her habitual smile, and at either
side sat five as differing shapes--except for sharp features and
inquiring eyes--as could be found anywhere. One wore black silk with
much affectation of superiority to the general herd, but the others
seemed to have prepared for a wild competition in colors of raiment and
ribbons, and one had succeeded in borrowing for the day the original
and many-colored silk of Mrs. Hawk Howlaway, described in an early
chapter of this narrative.
The guests did full justice to the repast. One by one they became
mystified by the number of courses, for they had expected pie or
pudding to follow the first dish. Some began to be apprehensive of the
future, but with the fine determination characteristic of "settlers,"
good and bad alike, they continued to ply knife and fork and spoon.
For some time the efforts of the hostess and Mrs. Taggess to encourage
conversation were unrewarded, though some of the guests exchanged
questions and comments in guarded tones. All acted with the apparent
unconcern of the North American Indian; but curiosity, a tricky
quality at best, suddenly compelled one gaunt woman to exclaim, as she
contemplated the dish before her and raised it to her prominent nose:--
"What on airth is that stuff, I'd like to know?"
"That is lobster salad," Grace replied.
"Oh! I couldn't somehow make out what kind of an animile the meat come
off of."
"Nuther could I," said her vis-à-vis, with a full mouth, "but I'm goin'
to worry my ole man to raise some of 'em on the farm, for it's powerful
good, an' no mistake."
A buzz of assent went round the table; the ice was broken, so another
guest said:--
"Mis' Somerton, I've been dyin' to know what that there soup was made
of that we begun on. I never tasted anythin' so good in all my born
days."
"Indeed? I'm very glad you liked it. 'Twas made of crawfish."
A score of knives and forks clattered upon plates, and ten women
assumed attitudes of amazement and consternation. Finally one of them
succeeded in gasping:--
"Them little things that bores holes 'longside the crick? the things
that boys makes fish-bait of?"
"The same, though only millionnaires' sons could afford to use them
for bait in the East. Crawfish meat in New York costs as much as--oh,
a single pound of it costs as much as a big sugar-cured ham. I never
dreamed of buying it--I never dared hope that I might taste it--until I
came out here."
The appearance of a new course checked conversation on the subject, but
one of the guests eyed suspiciously a tiny French chop, the tip of its
bone covered with paper, and said to the woman at her right:--
"Don't appear to know what we're bein' fed with here. Wonder what this
is? It's little enough to be a side bone o' cat. Must be all right,
though; Mis' Taggess is eatin' hern."