In the parlor the guests were seated in somewhat stiff and formal rows, on sofas and chairs ranged along the wall, while two menservants, Jake and Jerry, bearing large trays of refreshments, made the circuit of the room—Jerry going first, with a great plum cake and plain pound cake, each beautifully frosted and decorated, and neatly cut from the center to the edge, ready for helping, and a pile of small, china plates and damask napkins. Le Force, walking beside this waiter, served each guest with a plate, a napkin and a slice of each cake.
Behind Jerry came Jake, bearing another large tray laden with cut-glass goblets filled to the brim with snowy, frothy eggnog, or amber apple toddy, or golden lemon punch. And beside this waiter walked Mr. Force, serving each guest with the special nectar he or she preferred.
When these good things had been disposed of, although it was but half-past ten, carriages were ordered, and all the county neighbors took leave and went home, for these were simple days “before the war”—or “befo’ de wo,” as the negroes more truly, if less grammatically, put it. And the people wished to get home and go to bed, that they might rise on Christmas morning in time to attend church in the forenoon.
Within an hour after their departure the household at Mondreer had retired to rest.
CHAPTER XXXIX
A DECISIVE INTERVIEW
Sunrise on Christmas morning found all the family of Mondreer assembled in the drawing room, which had been already restored to order by the servants, and where no vestige of the previous night’s festivity remained, except the beautiful evergreen decorations.
“Who are for church this morning?” inquired Mr. Force, looking around upon his assembled household.
“I think we all are, except, perhaps, Odalite, who may naturally shrink from the ordeal of appearing there so soon,” replied Mrs. Force, in a tone so very subdued that it was scarcely redeemed from being that breach of good breeding, a whisper in company.