We had been down to the Piagets—Homer and I. Mrs. Piaget was like a girl in her merry ways. We had some guessing of proverbs and songs, a cup of tea and cake, both very plain, but with the fun and frolic most enjoyable. Just as we were saying good-night we crossed hands, Sophie, Homer, Luther Chandler and I.
"Oh, a wedding, a wedding!" cried Nanette, and we all blushed and laughed. "Sophie is the eldest, it is her turn first."
Luther was very sweet on Sophie, but I thought she did not care much for him.
Then Homer and I walked home.
"It's late, but I'm coming in," he exclaimed, and the resolution in his voice roused me curiously.
Jolette was in her chimney corner. During the cold weather she rolled herself in a blanket and slept on the old settle.
"Ye'r pop's gone to bed," she said with a sort of grunt.
We went through to the keeping room. She had mended the fire, and it was now blazing cheerfully. Oddly enough, two chairs stood invitingly before it, but I knew father did not like company staying late. It seemed unsocial not to ask him to sit down.
"You make a room look different from any one else, Ruth," he said, glancing around. "There is always an air about it as if one really lived on a little higher plane. Who would think of placing those pine boughs in the corner, and having pictures and books around, and always the newspaper and little knicknacks and your work basket, and those pine cones with grass growing in them," as his eyes wandered around.
"Was that what you came in to say?" I asked saucily, for it amused me.