lowed with Mrs. Dorman, relict of the late William
Dorman, merchant, on his arm; behind him came the Brownwells, in evening
clothes, and Robert Hendricks and his sister,--all gray-haired, but
straight of figure and firm of foot; Colonel Culpepper followed with
Mrs. Mary Barclay; the Lycurgus Masons were next in the file, and in
their evening clothes they looked withered and old, and Lycurgus was not
sure upon his feet; Jacob Dolan in his faded blue uniform marched in
like a drum-major with the eldest Miss Ward; and the Carnines followed,
and the Fernalds followed them; and then came Judge and Mrs. Bemis--he a
gaunt, sinister, parchment-skinned man, with white hair and a gray
mustache, and she a crumbling ruin in shiny satin bedecked in diamonds.
Down the length of the long room they walked, and executed an
old-fashioned grand march, such as Watts could lead, while the orchestra
played the tune that brought cheers from the company, and the little old
man looked at the floor, while Mrs. McHurdie beamed and bowed and
smiled. And then they took their partners to step off the
quadrille--when behold, it transpired that in all the city orchestra,
that had cost the Barclays a thousand dollars according to town
tradition, not one man could be found who could call off a quadrille.
Then up spake John Barclay, and stood him on a chair, and there, when
the colonel had signalled for the music to start, the voice of John
Barclay rang out above the din, as it had not sounded before in nearly
thirty years. Old memories came rushing back to him of the nights when
he used to ride five and ten and twenty miles and play the cabinet organ
to a fiddle's lead, and call off until daybreak for two dollars. And
such a quadrille as he gave them--four figures of it before he sent them
to their seats. There were "cheat or swing," the "crow's nest," "skip to
my Loo,"--and they all broke out singing, while the young people clapped
their hands, and finally by a series of promptings he quickly called the
men into one line and the women into another, and then the music
suddenly changed to the Virginia reel. And so the dance closed for the
old people, and they vanished from the room, looking back at the youth
and the happiness and warmth of the place with wistful but not eager
eyes; and as Jacob Dolan, in his faded blues and grizzled hair and
beard, disappeared into the dusk of the hallway, Jeanette Barclay,
looking at her new ring, patted it and said to Ne