“Yes; but we have to look sharp, to see that the foxes, and hawks, and weasels don’t get ’em.”
Their conversation was interrupted by Berinthia, who introduced him to Miss Lucy Flucker[27], daughter of the secretary of the Province, Miss Dorothy Quincy, Miss Mary Shrimpton, and to Isaac and John Coffin[28], sons of his majesty’s receiver-general.
“Do you have garden tea-parties in Rumford?” Miss Flucker asked.
“No, not garden parties, but the ladies get together in a parlor, sip their tea, take pinches of snuff from each other’s boxes, talk about the number of cheeses they have made, how much salt they put into the curd, how much yarn they have spun, how many yards of linen they have woven.”
“Such a party must be very enjoyable,” said Miss Quincy.
“Yes, I think they like to find out what everybody else is doing, and how they do it. Their tongues wag lively when they get to talking about what has happened and what they expect will happen; who was cried the Sunday before, and who probably will be the next Sunday.”
The ladies smiled at Robert’s vivacious conversation.
“Does the town clerk cry the proposed marriages?” Miss Shrimpton asked.
“Yes. The moment the minister finishes the benediction Sunday afternoon, Squire Fellows breaks in, shouting that marriage is intended between Hezekiah and Mehitable. Of course there are blushes on Mehitable’s face, while Hezekiah looks kinder sheepish.”