"Mr. Leverett has gone to Boston," announced Miss Leverett. "We must have our dinner without him."
"Yes, he was down on the ship," said Miss Winn. "Do you often go to Boston?"
"I am much too busy to be gadding about," returned Elizabeth sharply; "though we have connections there, and I once spent several years in the city."
"I don't suppose it is at all like London. Eastern cities are so different—and dirty," she added.
"Boston is very nice, quite a superior place, but we do not consider it much above Salem," Miss Elizabeth said, with an air. "We have nearly all of the East India trade. To be sure, there is Harvard at Cambridge, and that calls students and professors. Cousin Chilian is a graduate. He could have been an accepted professor if he had chosen."
Then the conversation languished. They were hardly through dinner when the next relay of goods arrived.
"Cynthia's desk must go upstairs, I suppose. Her father had it made for her birthday. Will Silas unpack again? There is a small cabinet of teakwood that is beautifully carved. If you could find room in the parlor for that. There were many other fine pieces that will no doubt be sold, and it seems a great pity."
Elizabeth acquiesced rather frigidly, adding, "It is fortunate the house is large, but one seems to accumulate a good deal through generations."
Cynthia went up in the garret with Miss Winn and was full of interest over the old Leverett treasures. Here was the cradle in which Leverett babies had been rocked, an old bit of mahogany nearly black with age.
"How funny!" cried Cynthia, springing into it, and making a clatter on the floor.