“Are the gentlemen invited to the tea-parties?” John Coffin asked.
“Not to the afternoon parties, neither are the young ladies; the old ladies like to be by themselves while sipping their tea. Perhaps they think it would not be dignified on the part of the gentlemen to devote the afternoons to gossip,” Robert replied.
“Do not the young ladies meet?” Miss Shrimpton asked.
“Not as do our mothers, but they have their own good times,—their quilting parties. In the country every girl as soon as she can sew begins to make patchwork. When they get enough for a quilt, they invite their acquaintances to the quilting, and spend the afternoon in talking about—well, I can’t exactly say what they do talk about. Perhaps you ladies can tell better than I.”
The ladies smiled at his pleasant way of indicating what was uppermost in the thoughts of young maidens on such delightful occasions.
“Do not the gentlemen participate in some way?” Miss Quincy inquired.
“Oh yes; we join them in the evening, after they are through with the quilting, and try to make things lively. We play blindman’s-buff, hide the handkerchief, roast beef behind your back, come Philander, stage-coach, and other games, and have a jolly time. The ladies serve us with bread and butter, doughnuts, cookies, tarts, gingerbread, and tea. We guess riddles and tell ghost stories.”
“How delightful!” Miss Newville exclaimed.
“A little later than this we have huskings in the barns, seated around a heap of corn. Husking over, we eat pudding, baked beans, mince, apple, and pumpkin pie, and top off with pop-corn, apples, and cider. After supper the girls clear away the dishes; then we push the table into one corner of the kitchen, Julius Cæsar mounts it with his fiddle, and we dance jigs and quicksteps. The girl who first found a red ear while husking, and was kissed before she could throw it into the basket, is privileged to lead the dance.”
“How I should enjoy it,” said Miss Shrimpton.