So Lilia went in meekly, and poor Jo flew back to the parlor, smarting under a bitter sense of disgrace. The sisters fortunately knew nothing of Lilia's aptitude for blunders, else she never would have been suffered to touch their precious household gods. As it was, by dint of extreme care, she managed to get the plum sauce on the table, and to set the chairs around it, without any serious disaster. To be sure, in cutting the dried beef, she notched a memorandum of the pieces shaved on each of her fingers, so that when she finished they were perfect little calendars of suffering; however, this only concerned herself, and she did not murmur, as most of her mistakes implicated other people.
At half-past five they sat down to supper; and such a supper! Miss Miranda was evidently anxious to impress the young people. The best pink “chany” set had been unearthed, and there were besides other old dishes of great magnificence. Quaint British lustre pitchers held the milk and cream, a green dragon plate the cookies, and the “Sheltered Peasant” saucers came in for general admiration.
The china was not more notable than the food. There were light soda biscuits, large in size and thick, and there was cold buttermilk bread; a blue and white bowl held tomato preserves, while a glass one was full of delicious applesauce cooked in maple-syrup; then there was a round, creamy cottage-cheese, white as a snow-ball; a golden, dried-pumpkin pie, baked in a deep yellow plate; the brownest and plummiest and indigestible-est of all plummy cakes, with doughnuts and sugar gingerbread besides. This array of good things being taken in with rapid and rabid glances, the girls exchanged involuntary looks of delight, and even emitted audible signs of happiness. To say that they did justice to the repast would be a feeble expression, for in truth the meals of their own preparation were irregular as to time, indifferent as to quality, and sometimes, when they calculated carelessly and unwisely, even small as to quantity.
After tea was over, each of the girls was required to give, in answer to a string of questions asked, her entire family history; for no tidbit of information concerning other people's affairs was uninteresting to Miss Jane or Miss Miranda. This cross-examination being finished, they rose to go, unable to hear any longer the quiet, proper, suppressed atmosphere that pervaded the house. While they had been admiring the quaint, old-fashioned relics and busy devouring the appetizing New England goodies, they were quite at ease, but an hour or two of conversation had exhausted their adaptability. When they had taken their leave, and the sound of their merry voices and ringing laughter floated in from the country road, Miss Miranda sank into a chair, and waved a fan excitedly to and fro, her mouse-colored complexion quite flushed and pink from the unwonted dissipation.
“Wall, Jane,” said she, “it's over now, and we've done our dooty by Mis' Winship; she's a good neighbor, and I wanted to act right by Isabel when her Ma was away, but of all the crazy, 'stivering' girls I ever see, them do beat all; though they did behave tolerable well this afternoon.”
“They seemed to enjoy their supper,” said Miss Jane; “I never saw girls make a heartier meal.”
“They did for certain,” continued Miranda, “too hearty most. I thought. That light-haired girl with the blue ear-rings left her meat hash, that'll sour before we can warm it over again, and et and et fruit cake till I was afraid she'd have fits at the table. We ought to be very thankful we hevn't any young ones or men-folks to cook for, Jane.”