A babel of voices broke in upon their conversation just here, as the guests trooped down from their rooms, exclaiming with admiration on every hand. Sherman and Addie were particularly delighted, but they looked at Carolina wonderingly, as if uncertain whether this were the same sister they had known before.
Carolina bloomed like a rose under all the admiration her work received, but she was too busy to drink it all in. She had, for one thing, the children to amuse. Emmeline Yancey, a serious-browed child with grave eyes, was her right hand, and to Emmeline and Bob Fitzhugh she confided her plans. Hardly had the children learned of the delights in store for them, when the guests began to arrive.
Then, such a rushing to and fro! Such a calling for servants! Such hurried dressing! Such a gathering up of children, and a general hastening of duties which should have been performed before!
Introductions to the few who had not met before seemed like a meeting of old friends, so warm was the welcome and so well known the existing friendships.
Carriage after carriage rolled up the drive and deposited Fitzhughs, La Granges, Manigaults, Pringles, and Yanceys, until Guildford resembled the palmiest days of its predecessors.
Peachie and Sir Hubert Wemyss and Noel and Kate were receiving sub rosa congratulations, and beaming faces were everywhere. Moultrie's eyes followed Carolina wherever she was, and none noticed it more jealously than a slim, blue-eyed boy who would not mingle with the other children, even when Emmeline begged him to. He only shook his head, and continued to watch his divinity.
Then old Israel, who had been a rascally boy in the days of Carolina's grandfather, flung open the doors and the guests trooped out to the dining-room.
Every one stood and exclaimed with delight at the sight which met their eyes. The majestic dinner-table of Guildford, which would seat forty, stood in the centre of the room, flanked by side-tables groaning under the glorious old Lee silver and glass and china, such as no contemporaneous eye had seen, but so often had those gathered here heard its beauty described that it seemed a familiar sight.
The children had a table to themselves, and this was set across one end of the room. Emmeline was to be the mother and Bob Fitzhugh the father, and actually carve the turkey.
"He'll spill the gravy and drop the turkey on the floor, Carolina," cried his mother.