"Now jest listen a minit, mother, and if I'm wrong I'll give in," said Moses, trying to effect a compromise.
"Well, let's hear what you have to say for yourself; but remember, you must not palaver it up to suit yourself, or I'll soon find out—sure as my name is Jerushy Ann Spriggins."
Moses had, to a certain extent, allayed Mrs. Spriggins' fears, and brought matters to a satisfactory close, when a load knock at the front door caused the latter to utter a startling exclamation, and then run to the glass to see if her hair was parted straight.
"Gracious goodness, mother, if there ain't the greatest crowd you
ever saw. There's Mister and Missus Squires and Deacon Rider, and
Missus Rider and little Joe Rider, and there's Huldey Ameliar
Dickson and Marthy Ann, and a hull lot more."
"Moses Spriggins, are you a-takin' leave of your senses to be a-standin' gapin' with your mouth open instead of runnin' to the door and a-showin' 'em into the best room, and I'm not fit to be seen. It's allus the way. If I had all my fixin's on there'd not be a soul to come, but let one sit in their old rags, and the hull country side will pop in."
Moses had not heard the last part of the speech, for in less than a minute he was at the front door, doing the honors with all the grace imaginable.
"Nell has gone to the store, but mother will be here in a few minutes, so make yourselves to hum," cried the genial host, showing the female guests the way into the spare room "to take off their bunits."
When Mrs. Spriggins appeared not a trace of the recent encounter was visible.
"Wal, Mrs. Spriggins, yer growin' younger lookin' every day," said the good old deacon as he glanced at the hostess in her best gown and black lace cap, not forgetting to admire the coquettish white linen stomacher that completed the costume.
"Deacon Rider, I'm afraid you are guilty of sayin' little fibs as well as the rest of the folks. What do you think, Mr. Squires?"