“No, Miss Grace,” said Sam, “y’r aunt said fur you to take ’em off here.”
Rather sulkily, Grace did as she was bid, and then, bethinking herself of the importance of the occasion, she called up her usual smile, and the three entered the sitting-room where their aunt awaited them.
Aunt Betty was a pleasant-faced lady of perhaps sixty years, but though rather infirm so that she walked with a cane, she was bright and cheery-looking. She was dressed in her usual thick black satin gown and lace mitts, with a fine lace kerchief around her neck and crossed on her breast, and a string of fine gold beads around her throat.
The few moments before Sam opened the door of the dining-room, clad in snowy apron and white gloves, and announced in his most dignified butler’s manner, “Dinner is served!” were passed by Aunt Betty in asking about the three families of her guests, and soon all were seated at the pretty round table, set out with the very best old china, of which every piece was more precious than gold, with exquisite cut glass and abundance of silver. This was an unusual honor, and the girls were surprised.
“You see, nieces,” said Aunt Betty, “this is a special occasion, and I give you my very best.”
“This china’s almost too lovely to use,” said Grace warmly. “I don’t know as I shall dare to touch it!”
“It’s all beautiful!” said Jenny eagerly; “I do love to eat off dainty dishes. Did Sam arrange the table?”
“Yes,” said Aunt Betty, “Sam did everything.”
“Well, he’s just a wonder!” said Grace. “I wish we could ever have a table like this in our house—but then we haven’t any such things to put on it,” she added, with a sigh.
“I only hope,” said Ruth ruefully, “that I shall not break anything. Auntie, you ought to have set me in a corner by myself with kitchen dishes to use; I deserve it for my clumsiness.”