Letty was there, of course, dressed in her plain black silk, with a bit of old lace round the neck, which she had found among Aunt Eunice's hoards. A little pearl pin, containing Sally's hair, was her only ornament; yet, somehow (as Mrs. Van Horn confessed to herself in vexation of spirit), she looked more like a lady than any one else in the room. Graceful in manners, yet always lively and cheerful, she glided here and there,—always just where she was wanted, talking to people who seemed likely to feel neglected, making strangers acquainted with each other, and acting generally the part of the few drops of oil in a large machine, which cause every part to run smoothly.
After the party came something not quite so pleasant,—namely, paying the bills. The next Sunday evening Joseph came over to Number Nine, in great perturbation, and asked to see John.
"That fellow Carr has sent in his bill. He gave it to me yesterday. Do you believe? He has asked me six hundred and eighty dollars!—Just twice what he said the building would cost. I wish you would go over the bill with me, and tell me what you think of his charges. I am sure they are enormous."
"I will," replied John,—"but not to-night."
"Why not?" asked Joseph, surprised.
For John was sitting, without even a book in his hand, apparently doing nothing except keeping an eye on little Alick.
"It is Sunday," replied John, quietly.
"Oh!" said Joseph, a little disconcerted. "But this is not work, John."
"I think it is,—and not very easy work either. I find looking over bills and estimates about the hardest things I have to do. But, hard or easy, I make it a rule never to attend to any business on Sunday. 'Thou shalt do no manner of work,' is the commandment, you know."
"But, John, you don't always act up to it, as it seems to me. You and Letty were down at Mrs. Jones's all Sunday afternoon; and when I passed the house I saw you cutting wood, and Letty washing out some things in the shed, as busy as a bee. Isn't there some inconsistency in that?"