"That's whether she wants you," said Janie saucily. "Do you, Daffodil?"
"Do I—what?"
"Want Ned to take you in to supper. We're pairing off. By right you ought to take Kate," to Ned. "She can have some of the younger boys."
Daffodil was rather startled at Ned. He had grown so tall and looked so manly.
"I'll take Archie," she said a little timidly.
Archie smiled and came over to her, clasping her hand.
"I'm so glad," he said in a half whisper. "Oh, Daffodil, you're so pretty, like some of the sweet pictures in a book mother has. Yes, I'm so glad."
Did Daffodil go to school with most of these girls? She felt curiously strange. After the first greeting and the question about her visit, that she was getting rather tired of, there was a new diversion at the entrance of Mr. Josephus Sanders, who was announced to the company by his betrothed. He was a great, rather coarse-looking fellow, with a red face burned by wind and water, and reddish hair that seemed to stand up all over his head. Even at the back it hardly lay down. He was a boatman, had made two trips to New Orleans, and now was going regular between Pittsburg and Cincinnati with a share in the boat which he meant to own by and by. He had a loud voice and took the jesting in good part, giving back replies of coarse wit and much laughter.
Mrs. Byerly waited on the guests, though the viands were so arranged that there was a dish for every three or four. Cold chicken, cold ham, cold roast pork temptingly sliced. White bread and brown, fried nuts as they called them, the old Dutch doughnuts and spiced cakes, beside the great round one cut in generous slices. And after that luscious fruits of all kinds.
"Yes, I am so glad to see you. And you have been off among the quality. But I hope you have not forgotten—" and he raised his eyes, then colored and added, "but you weren't so much with the boys. I do suppose girls' schools are different. Still there were Saturdays."