"Law! Miss Ida! you know Miss Josephine as well as I do; what harm does my talking do? I was goin' to tell you, that I thought I should a' died laughin' to see how mad she was, when Joe dropped the big cake she sent to the confectionaries to have iced. Her face turned red as them curtains, and soon as she could move, she pulled off her shoe, and gave him such a lick 'pon the side of his head, I'll bound he seed stars!"
"Are your preparations concluded?" asked Mr. Read, that night.
"I believe so, sir."
"'You believe so!' why can't you give a direct answer? I hate this mincing you women think so pretty. Are you ready!"
"The table is not set," said Josephine, provokingly, "and the jellies and creams are not turned into the dishes yet."
"What will this tomfoolery cost?" barked her father.
"I don't know, sir—what other people's parties do."
"You are wonderfully independent, young woman! you intend to foot the bills I hope."
No answer, except a bar of a popular air, hummed, while trying on a head-dress.