When he was all dressed, with his fine white brocade waistcoat and his paste knee-buckles, he dearly wished to wear his sword, as gentlemen wore swords upon occasions when they were dressed for ceremony. But he felt both shy and modest about it, and at last concluded to leave it in his room. When he went downstairs he found the lower hall brightly illuminated with wax candles and a glorious fire, and decked with holly and mistletoe. It was full of company, several officers being present in uniform, and one tall, handsome, gray-haired officer stood before the hearth talking with Mrs. Laurence Washington. George guessed that to be Admiral Vernon, and his guess was correct.
As he descended the last steps, and advanced to where Mrs. Laurence Washington stood, every eye that fell upon him admired him. His journey, his intercourse with a man like Lord Fairfax, and his fencing lessons had improved his air and manner, graceful as both had been before. Mrs. Washington, laying her hand on his shoulder, which was already on a level with the Admiral's, said:
"Let me present to you my brother, Mr. George Washington, who has come to spend his Christmas with us."
Admiral Vernon glanced at him keenly as he shook hands with him.
"My brother has just returned from a visit to the Earl of Fairfax, at Greenway Court, my father's relative"—for Mrs. Washington had been Anne Fairfax of Belvoir. "The Earl has been most kind to him, and honored him by giving him the sword which he wore at the siege of Bouchain."
"I believe he entered the town," said Admiral Vernon. "I have often heard of the adventure, and it was most daring."
"Why have you not the sword on, George?" asked his sister.
"Because—because—" George stammered, and then became hopelessly embarrassed.
"Because he is a modest young gentleman," said the Admiral, smiling.
George was introduced to many other persons, all older than himself; but presently he recognized William Fairfax, a cousin of his sister's, who had been at Mount Vernon with him the Christmas before. William was a merry youngster, a year or two older than George, but a foot or two shorter. The two boys gravitated together, and, as young gentlemen in those days were expected to be very retiring, they took their places in a corner, and when supper was announced they made up the very tail of the procession towards the dining-room. At supper the three young people—George and Betty and William Fairfax—sat together. The conversation was gay and sprightly until the ladies left, when it grew more serious.