"And what's that for?" indicating the glass of flowers in the centre of the table. "Them women don't eat posies, do they?"
"Hit's for looks," answered Charlotta. "Them women allows things eats better if they look good. I allus gather a flower-pot every morning and fotch up to 'em."
Soon Aunt Ailsie and the crowd went up farther, to a wider "bench," or shelf, where the largest tent stood. Within were numerous young men and maidens, large boys and girls, sitting about on floor or camp-stools, talking and laughing, and every one of them engaged upon a piece of sewing. Another strange young woman, in another crisp dress, moved smilingly about, directing the work.
But Aunt Ailsie's eyes were instantly drawn to the tent itself, the roof of which was festooned with red cheesecloth and many-colored paper chains, a great flag being draped at one end, while every remaining foot of roof-space and wall-space was covered with bright pictures. Pushing back her black sunbonnet, she moved around the tent sides, gazing rapturously.
"'Pears like I never seed my fill of pretties before," she said aloud to herself again and again.
"You like it then, do you?" asked a soft voice behind her. And, turning, she confronted still another strange young woman, standing by some shelves filled with books.
"Like hit!" repeated Aunt Ailsie, with shining eyes, "Woman, hit's what my soul has pined for these sixty year—jest to see things that are pretty and bright!"
"You must spend the day with us, and have dinner, and get acquainted," smiled the stranger.
"I will, too—hit's what I come for. Rutheny she told me a Thursday of you fotched-on women a-being here; and then Fulty he give some account of you, too—"
"You are not Fult's granny, he talks so much about?"