Squire King was one of the most liberal of men, and he had something to be liberal with. He had gradually gone more and more into the spirit of the young folks' party matter, and had even astonished his wife by the things he did and proposed.
To have had actual dancing would have offended some of the best people in the village; but every other kind of amusement that was to be tolerated he provided for, and he almost doubled the allowance of ice-cream and confectionery. He had no idea, nor had even his wife, what an amount of work and of contriving they had provided for their neighbors. Every store in Benton Village, and some over in Cobbleville, did a better business from the hour in which Mrs. King's invitations were delivered.
The family at the Farnham homestead seemed to concentrate their interest upon the kind of appearance Susie Hudson was to make. Even Pen remarked to her,—
"They all know me, and they won't care so much how I look; but you're from the city, and every one of 'em'll look at you as soon as you come in."
Susie had brought a good enough wardrobe with her; and aunt Judith herself declared it extravagant, but at the same time selected the best things in it for use at Mrs. King's party.
"I shall have no trouble at all," said Susie. "There needn't be any thing added to that dress."
"No," said Pen, "it's mine that's got to be added to." But there was one lady in the neighborhood who was of a different opinion.
The very morning of the party, Mrs. Stebbins said to her son,—
"I don't keer if you do miss a day's schoolin'. You jest hitch up the colt after breakfast."
"Going somewhere?"