Ma pursed her lips a little uneasily, as she sat on the sofa and pretended to be absorbed in conversation with Mrs. Brinkman; she knew what they all would say about her afterwards.
It had been a rather warm dinner. Through the abundant provision of the sheriff, the fatigue and hunger after the journey had given place to an extremely lively mood spiced with speeches and songs.
They had sat a long time at the table before the scraping of the judge's chair finally gave the signal for the breaking up.
The sheriff now stood stout and beaming during the thanks for the meal, and demanded and received his tribute as host—a kiss from each one of the young ladies.
The masculine part of the company distributed themselves with their coffee-cups out in the cool hall and on the stairs, or went with their tobacco pipes into the yard, while the ladies sat around the coffee-table in the parlor.
The judge talked somewhat loudly with the sheriff, and the captain, red and hot, stood a little way out in the yard, cooling himself.
The doctor came up and clapped him on the shoulder. "The sheriff really took the spigot out of the bung to-day: we had excellent drink."
"Oh, if one only had a pipe now, and could go and loaf."
"You have got one in your hand, man."
"Really? But filled, you see."