So saying, Marjory, glad of an excuse to talk to some one, went to the kitchen porch, where sat that comfortable old aunty, rocking, fanning, and crooning hymns to herself, and there laid the case before her.
Ah, little imps that sometimes climb up aloft and grin at those who, mistaking you for cherubs, take your advice, why did it happen that the master of the house was called away at this particular juncture?
“Missus Coates am sure one ob de quality, honey,” said June, unfolding and setting in place her silver-bowed spectacles, even though it was dark, and instantly being seized with a flow of language. “If she’s real quality, I don’t allow it’s showin’ right ’spect and dignification to Marsa Rod’s Bosses’s Missus to feed her with cole vittles on the back stoop like she was hounds, even if you-all do like the airyation and simplification ob it your two selves.
“Lor’, Miss Margy, do dress out de house a bit, and fetch out dem weddin’ gifts dat outshun all de glories ob Solomon and was hid away so quick dat folks hadn’t got through blinkin’ at ’em. Spread Missus Coates a banquet ter bulge her eyes, and old June’ll do some tall cookin’. Den sweep down dem stairs to fetch her in with a long-trailed skirt out behind and a real lace hankerchief stuck in front just soppin’ with perfummery. I tell you, Miss Margie, when Marsa Rod’s pa and ma down Baltimore way done entertained the governor and his lady—”
But at this introduction to a recitation of Juno’s that was warranted to last an hour in its most abridged form, Marjory interrupted her with, “I’ll think it over and decide to-morrow; at least you shall make your stuffed peppers and Creole chicken,” and then she fled to her own room and locked the door.
Sleeping was an empty ceremony that night; instead, Marjory devised plans for Mrs. Coates’s entertainment. By morning, all the pleasure and originality of their daily life had apparently vanished, and Marjory had resolved to leave her own coign of vantage and meet Mrs. Coates more than halfway.
In the first place, she went to town and secured a trunk full of silver from the safety vault, and then spent two nights in a fever of anxiety, because for safe-keeping she had put the trunk under her bed. She unpacked draperies from the attic chests, crowded all the ornaments into the three rooms she expected to use, the dining room, living-room, and den, before it occurred to her that if she was to have a luncheon of many courses in the dining room she must also have a waitress, or preferably two, to match the splendid silver service.
Where were waitresses to be found? After spending a hot and weary morning scouring the neighbourhood, she finally discovered that the niece of a near-by German truck farmer had “waited,” and the eldest daughter of the family who worked on the adjoining place would like “to learn”; so, telling them to come early the next morning to be instructed, she repaired to Bridgeton for white aprons and caps, as she found that both girls owned decent black gowns.
It must be confessed that the dining room had a very high-bred and elegant air when the round table was spread with a lace-edged cloth, its load of silver, cut glass, and candelabra with delicate green candles to match the fern decorations. (Then, of course, it was necessary to draw in the blinds, both to keep out the glare and give the candles a chance.)
The German girl’s name was Gertie, and her American assistant, apparently without good and sufficient reason, was called Sapphira. The latter slipped into her costume with comparative ease, but poor Gertie was innocent of corsets, and the apron bands and strings vanished entirely at the waist line, causing the staying of the apron in position to appear a feat of legerdemain.