ductions, and cause them to be framed and hung up, as in the present
instance.

"I guess we won't go down jest yet," said Mrs. Crane, "as folks don't
seem to have come."

So she began a systematic inspection of the dressing-room and its
conveniences.

"Mahogany four-poster;--come from the Jordans', I cal'la,te. Marseilles
quilt. Ruffles all round the piller. Chintz curtings,--jest put
up,--o' purpose for the party, I'll lay ye a dollar.--What a nice
washbowl!" (Taps it with a white knuckle belonging to a red finger.)
"Stone chaney.--Here's a bran'-new brush and comb,--and here's a
scent-bottle. Come here, girls, and fix yourselves in the glass, and
scent your pocket-handkerchers."

And Mrs. Crane bedewed her own kerchief with some of the eau de Cologne
of native manufacture,--said on its label to be much superior to the
German article.

It was a relief to Mrs. and the Miss Cranes when the bell rang and the
next guests were admitted. Deacon and Mrs. Soper,--Deacon Soper of the
Rev. Mr. Fairweather's church, and his lady. Mrs. Deacon Soper was
directed, of course, to the ladies' dressing-room, and her husband to the
other apartment, where gentlemen were to leave their outside coats and
hats. Then came Mr. and Mrs. Briggs, and then the three Miss Spinneys,
then Silas Peckham, Head of the Apollinean Institute, and Mrs. Peckham,
and more after them, until at last the ladies' dressing-room got so full
that one might have thought it was a trap none of them could get out of.
In truth, they all felt a little awkwardly. Nobody wanted to be first to
venture down-stairs. At last Mr. Silas Peckham thought it was time to
make a move for the parlor, and for this purpose presented himself at the
door of the ladies' dressing-room.

"Lorindy, my dear!" he exclaimed to Mrs. Peckham,--"I think there can be
no impropriety in our joining the family down-stairs."

Mrs. Peckham laid her large, flaccid arm in the sharp angle made by the
black sleeve which held the bony limb her husband offered, and the two
took the stair and struck out for the parlor. The ice was broken, and
the dressing-room began to empty itself into the spacious, lighted
apartments below.

Mr. Silas Peckham slid into the room with Mrs. Peckham alongside, like a
shad convoying a jelly-fish.

"Good-evenin', Mrs. Sprowle! I hope I see you well this evenin'. How 's
your haalth, Colonel Sprowle?"

"Very well, much obleeged to you. Hope you and your good la