“The time when I saw Lafayette was in 1825, and there were no tipsy counts then. Uncle Hancock (a sweet man, my dears, though some call him mean now-a-days) was dead, and aunt had married Captain Scott.
“It was not at all the thing for her to do; however, that's neither here nor there. She was living in Federal Street at the time, a most aristocratic street then, children, and we lived close by.
“Old Josiah Quincy was mayor of the city, and he sent aunt word that the Marquis Lafayette wished to pay his respects to her.
“Of course she was delighted, and we all flew about to make ready for him. Aunt was an old lady, but she made a grand toilet, and was as anxious to look well as any girl.”
“What did she wear?” asked Fan, with interest.
“She wore a steel-colored satin, trimmed with black lace, and on her cap was pinned a Lafayette badge of white satin.
“I never shall forget how b-e-a-utifully she looked as she sat in state on the front parlor sophy, right under a great portrait of her first husband; and on either side of her sat Madam Storer and Madam Williams, elegant to behold, in their stiff silks, rich lace, and stately turbans. We don't see such splendid old ladies now-a-days.”
“I think we do sometimes,” said Polly, slyly.
Grandma shook her head, but it pleased her very much to be admired, for she had been a beauty in her day.
“We girls had dressed the house with flowers; old Mr. Coolidge sent in a clothes-basket full. Joe Joy provided the badges, and aunt got out some of the Revolutionary wine from the old Beacon Street cellar.