"I consider it a compliment to both of them," said Letty. "Here is your mother coming at last."
Letty's prophecy proved true. They did suit each other exactly. Aunt Eunice had penetration enough to understand perfectly the kind spirit which lay under Mrs. De Witt's bad English and unceremonious ways. And Mrs. De Witt, on her part, was charmed with the old lady's manners and dress, and the gentle wisdom of her conversation. As she afterwards said, it was as good as a picture to look at her, and better than a sermon to hear her talk. They found a common subject in their love of flowers; and nothing would do but that Aunt Eunice must come over and look at Mrs. De Witt's dahlias and snap-dragons, and then at the beautiful old-fashioned egg-shell china, and the tiny silver spoons,—so heavy in proportion to their size,—as well as the little silver cream-jug, marked with a coat-of-arms, which Mr. De Witt's father had brought from Holland.
"They have been in his family,—oh, I can't tell you how long! Mr. De Witt knows. He knows all about his family. There was a very great man in it once, who was torn to pieces by the people for something he did,—Grand—something,—I forget what."
"Grand-pensionary, perhaps," said Aunt Eunice. "And so the famous De Witt was an ancestor of thine. I should like to see thy husband and talk some Dutch with him,—that is, if I have not forgotten all I ever knew."
"Do tell!" exclaimed the good woman. "Can you talk Dutch? Mr. De Witt would be ready to stand on his head."
Letty could not help laughing heartily at the ludicrous idea of the grave, sober Mr. De Witt in such a position. "Do send for him," said she. "Let Gatty go and bring him here to tea. I am so glad I thought of it."
"Why, you'll have quite a tea-party," said Mrs. De Witt. "He'll be delighted, I'm sure, if it won't be too much trouble for you. But then I know you don't mind a little trouble. Mrs. Caswell, here, is like the woman in Scripture, Mrs. White:—she 'worketh willingly with her hands.'
"There's a great deal in that working willingly. That's what I always tell Gatty; because children don't always like to take hold of work, you know.
"'Gatty,' says I, 'work willingly: the willing mind is half the battle.'"
Agnes made no objection to this addition to the tea-party. The old china and silver, the coat-of-arms and the grand-pensionary, had worked a great change in her feelings and manners towards Mrs. De Witt, and she was very gracious all the rest of the evening.