Elizabeth Eliza exclaimed:
“And Agamemnon says we are not a family for emergencies!”
“Ann Maria was very good about it,” said Solomon John; “and quick, too. And old Mrs. Bromwick has kept all her set of two dozen coffee and tea cups!”
Elizabeth Eliza was ready to faint with delight and relief. She told the Gibbons boys, by mistake, instead of Agamemnon, and the little boys. She almost let fall the cups and saucers she took in her hand.
“No trouble now!”
She thought of the cow, and she thought of the pig, and she poured on.
No trouble, except about the chairs. She looked into the room; all seemed to be sitting down, even her mother. No, her father was standing, talking to Mr.
Jeffers. But he was drinking coffee, and the Gibbons boys were handing things around.
The daughters of the lady from Philadelphia were sitting on shawls on the edge of the window that opened upon the piazza. It was a soft, warm evening, and some of the young people were on the piazza. Everybody was talking and laughing, except those who were listening.
Mr. Peterkin broke away, to bring back his cup and another for more coffee.