And then, of course, Grandpapa gave them, as he always did, a fine party to wind up the evening with. And the camp chairs were folded up and carried off, and a company of musicians came into the alcove in the spacious hall, and all through the beautiful, large apartments festivity reigned!
“Look at the old cat,” said Tom in a smothered aside to Joel, his next neighbor in the “Sir Roger de Coverley.” “Isn't she a sight!”
“I don't want to,” said Joel, with a grimace, “and it's awfully mean in you, Tom, to ask me.”
“I know it,” said Tom penitently, “but I can't keep my eyes off from her. How your grandfather can stand it, Pepper, I don't see.”
And a good many other people were asking themselves the same question, Madam Dyce among the number, to whom Mrs. Chatterton was just remarking, “Cousin Horatio is certainly not the same man.”
“No,” replied Madam Dyce distinctly, “he is infinitely improved; so approachable now.”
“You mistake me,” Mrs. Chatterton said angrily, “I mean there is the greatest change come over him; it's lamentable, and all brought about by his inexplicable infatuation over those low-born Pepper children and their designing mother.”
“Mrs. Chatterton,” said Madam Dyce—she could be quite as stately as Mr. King's cousin, and as she felt in secure possession of the right in the case, she was vastly more impressive—“I am not here to go over this question, nor shall I discuss it anywhere with you. You know my mind about it. I only wish I had the Peppers—yes, every single one of them,” warmed up the old lady,—“in my house, and that fine woman, their mother, along with them.”