In a few minutes the dinner was ready and a mighty feast it was. The plain table of hewn boards bore no fine damask, but it held a plentiful supply of roast pork, venison, and wild turkey; game pies were flanked by plenty of potatoes and hominy, and there were puddings, pies, and preserves to end up with, so that the company arose well satisfied, keen as their appetites were.
There followed a boisterous scene, when every one seemed to make an effort to be as noisy as possible and to outdo his neighbor in merry-making. In the lively games Polly was usually leader, and her jokes and quips evoked the heartiest laughter. She seemed determined that the discomfort of the early part of the day should be lost in rollicking fun, and that the wedding should be remembered as the gayest in the neighborhood. When the fun became too fast and furious, Agnes sought her mother’s side, and after a while Parker Willett made his way over to where the two were sitting. “It is a lively scene,” he remarked to Mrs. Kennedy. “I don’t suppose you ever saw anything just like it before.”
“Not just like it, although we have had some noisy times at weddings in our own neighborhood, but there is a mixture here of our own customs and of those of the backwoodsmen.”
It was about ten o’clock that Polly came up and whispered to Mrs. Kennedy, “Where has Agnes gone?”
Mrs. Kennedy smiled. “She has slipped off to join the girls who are stealing the bride away to her room. Did you want her specially, Polly?”
“Oh, no; I did but think to ask her to have an eye on the babies when she has a chance.”
“I looked in upon them not long ago and they were all asleep, sound enough, in spite of the noise. I suppose,” she turned to Park Willett as Polly walked away satisfied, “that we shall have a repetition of this at the housewarming.”
“Yes, it is much the same thing at all the festivities. It was a curious thing about the will, Mrs. Kennedy. I suppose the court will appoint an executor, but it will be some time before you gain possession of your property, unless the friends of David succeed in running the present occupant off.”
“I am sorry for his wife and children,” Mrs. Kennedy returned sorrowfully.
“They are the only ones to be pitied, but the children will not be long in adopting a new home, and Mrs. Muirhead could not be much lonelier or much harder worked than she is now.”