a large red and yellow silk handkerchief, while the cambric one she intended to use was neatly folded in her left hand.  She wore the famous plum-colored silk, old style, which had come into a fortune in the way of wrinkles.  A large bow of black ribbon testified that she was in mourning.  Hepsey rubbed her thumb across her fingers with the vacant air of habit.  I glanced at Alice; she was looking intently at Fanny, whose eyes were fixed upon father.  A strange feeling of annoyance troubled me, but the ceremony was over.  Arthur congratulated himself on having a big brother.  Ben was so pale, and wore so exalted an expression, that he agitated me almost beyond control.

After the general shaking of hands, there came retorts for me.  “When shall we have occasion to congratulate you?” And, “You are almost at the corner.”  And, “Your traveling from home seems only to have been an advantage to Veronica.”

“I tell you, Cousin Sue,” said Arthur, who overheard the last remark, “that you don’t know what they say of Cassandra in Rosville.  She’s the biggest beauty they ever had, and had lots of beaus.”

A significant expression passed over Cousin Sue’s face, which was noticed by Alice Morgeson, who colored deeply.

“Have you not forgotten?” I asked her.

“It was of you I thought, not myself.  I cannot tell you how utterly the past has gone, or how insignificant the result has proved.”

“Alice,” said father, “can you carve?”

“Splendidly.”

“Come and sit at the foot of my table; Mr. Somers will take charge of the smaller one.”

“With pleasure.”

“Slip out,” whispered Fanny, “and look at the table; Temperance wants you.”

“For the Lord’s sake!” cried Temperance, “say whether things are ship-shape.”

I was surprised at the taste she had displayed, and told her so.

“For once I have tried to do my best,” she said; “all for Verry.  Call ’em in; the turkeys will be on in a whiffle.”

Tables were set in the hall, as well as in the dining-room.  “They must sit down,” she continued, “so that they may eat their victuals in peace.”  The supper was a relief to Veronica, and I blessed father’s forethought.  Nobody was exactly merry, but there was a proper cheerfulness.  Temperance, Fanny, and Manuel were in attendance; the latter spilled a good deal of coffee on the carpet in his enjoyment of the scene; and when he saw Veronica take the flowers in her hand, he exclaimed, “Santa Maria!”

Everybody turned to look at him.

“What are you doing here, Manuel?” asked Ben.

“I wait on the senoritas,” he answered.  “Take plum-duff?”

Everybody laughed.

“Do you like widows?” whispered Fanny at the back of my chair.  I made a sign to her to attend to her business, but, as she suggested, looked at Alice.  At that moment she and father were drinking wine together.  I thought her handsomer than ever; she had expanded into a fair, smooth middle age.