“My step-mother, and my sister,” he whispered in the ear of Mr. Driggs, the tall minister, who promptly addressed Winona as “Mrs. Merriam.” Winona thought he said “Miss,” and went on talking excitedly about everything she could think of. Her father was deep in conversation with Mr. Donne, the other guest, who was a classmate of his. Tom’s murmured “Mother isn’t home yet—Winona’s managing things——” scarcely stopped the flood of reminiscences.
“I never heard that your father had a second wife,” remarked Mrs. Driggs to Louise, who had selected her to talk to.
“It’s quite recent,” said Louise sadly; and Mrs. Driggs did not ask any more questions.
Before things got more complicated Clay announced dinner in an awestruck voice, and fled instead of holding aside the portieres for the guests, as he had been instructed. He had a good deal on his mind, for he could not read very well yet, so they had had to sketch each particular thing with a pencil, and pin the series of pictures against the wall in their order as they were to come. The pictures of the oysters and the sweet potatoes were very much alike, and, as Clay confided to Winona afterward, they worried him considerably.
Winona seated her guests with the same dignity which had been hers ever since the train had; and led the conversation in the ways it should go, nobly assisted by Billy. It appeared Billy could talk like a grown-up person of forty when he wanted to—which wasn’t often, for Billy was a rather silent person ordinarily. Tom and Louise were never, either of them, troubled by shyness, and except that they seemed to laugh a little more than the facts warranted they were just as usual.
Every course, from old Mrs. Johnson’s stolen bouillon to the black coffee, came on in its proper place and was eaten with enthusiasm. As the third course came on without mishap, Winona began to relax, and by the end of the dinner was quite at ease. Mr. Donne, beside her, was liking his dinner so much that for quite awhile Winona did not have to do any talking. When he did talk it was about Ladies’ Aid Societies. Now Mrs. Merriam was the President of the Ladies’ Aid of her church, not to speak of various things that she held minor offices in, and she was quite an authority. Mr. Donne had been told this, and he thought he was talking to Winona about something she was an authority on. Winona was rather bewildered, for she had never attended a Ladies’ Aid meeting in her life, and like the inventor of the Purple Cow, till she was grown up “never hoped to see one.” Nevertheless she struck out valiantly, and was getting on fairly well when Mrs. Driggs’s voice struck across the general tide of talk.
“Mrs. Merriam,” she said, “I’m sorry to trouble you, but I never can eat fish without a sprinkle of nutmeg. Could you have a little grated on this delicious bit for me?”
“Why, yes!” said Winona cordially. “Clay——!”
“Hit ain’ none, Miss Winnie,” interrupted the small servant in a distressed whisper.
“Then go borrow one at Mrs. Lee’s, and hurry!” whispered Winona. “Anything, so you only get it and have it for Mrs. Driggs’s fish.”