Thus she entertained me to the end of dinner. We all left the table together—wine was not in fashion at Lake’s. Those who wanted any had to provide it for themselves: but the present company seemed to be satisfied with the home-brewed ale. Mrs. Captain Podd put her arm playfully into that of Dr. Lewis, and said she would show him the way to the drawing-room.
And so it went on all the evening: she making herself agreeable to the doctor: Miss Podd to Anne; Fanny to me. Of course it was highly good-natured of them. Mrs. Podd discovered that the doctor liked backgammon; and she looked for a moment as cross as a wasp on finding there was no board in the house.
“Quite an omission, my dear Miss Dinah,” she said, smoothing away the frown with a sweet smile. “I thought a backgammon-board was as necessary to a house as chairs and tables.”
“Mrs. Lake had a board once,” said Miss Dinah; “but the boys got possession of it, and somehow it was broken. We have chess—and cribbage.”
“Would you like a hand at cribbage, my dear sir?” asked Mrs. Podd of the doctor.
“Don’t play it, ma’am,” said he.
“Ah”—with a little sigh. “Julia, love, would you mind singing one of your quiet songs? Or a duet. Fanny, sweetest, try a quiet duet with your sister. Go to the piano.”
If they called the duet quiet, I wondered what they called noisy. You might have heard it over at the cathedral. Their playing and singing was of the style known as “showy.” Some people admire it: but it is a good thing ear-drums are not easily cracked.
The next day Mrs. Podd made the house a present of a backgammon-board: and in the evening she and Dr. Lewis sat down to play. Our number had decreased, for Mr. and Mrs. Mitchell had left; and Mrs. Lake dined with us, taking the foot of the table. Miss Dinah always, I found, kept the head.
“She is so much better calculated to preside than I am,” whispered meek Mrs. Lake to me later in the evening; as, happening to pass the kitchen-door after dinner, I saw her in there, making the coffee. “What should I do without Dinah!”