used for what the weavers
call the warp or the filling of the carpet. The woof was made of yarn,
spun usually in the house from wool taken from the backs of their own
sheep, and colored with a dye made from the roots of the barberry
bushes, or the poke weed, with the aid of a little foreign indigo, or
perhaps logwood. A sufficient variety of colors could be manufactured
to produce a very decent-looking carpet.

The weaving of this homemade carpet was done also in the neighborhood.
There were always looms enough to weave, for a moderate price, all the
carpets required in the place. At that time, there was usually a carpet
only in what was called the sitting room, or, as the country people
called it, "the settin room." The rest of the house had bare floors;
perhaps, in the houses of the richest of the country people, a bit of
carpet by the bed side.

But I must tell you what else the tea-kettle said. "I went, or rather
was carried," said she, "to the rag party. The good lady who borrowed
me, I must say for her, did brighten me up famously. "There," said she,
as she gave me the last touch with her rubbing cloth, "ef it ain't as
bright as our Lijah's cheeks a Sabberday mornins!"

The country hour for dining was twelve o'clock, and the rag party was
invited to come at two. Accordingly, all the women of the place with
whom Mrs. Nutter had any acquaintance that did or did not authorize an
invitation, were assembled in her best parlor, to take part in the rag
bee.

A nice-looking, sensible set of folks they were, and, if I could
remember all they said, I am sure you would think it very amusing. One
of the subjects that I now think of was introduced by a pair of very
old breeches.

"Where," said Mrs. White, "did you get such a pair of horrid, old,
scrimpy, frightful things as them? Why, the knees are patched with
blue, and the seats with red, and they are so very small, and yet so
long--who did they belong to?"

Mrs. Nutter hesitated for a moment; at last, she seemed to muster
courage, and to be determined to speak the whole truth.

"Well," said she, "ef I must tell the treuth, them are breeches come
off of a scarecrow. It stands to reason that none of us could ever have
worn 'em. This here's the way I got 'em. My husband bought Mr. Crane's
piece that jined on to ourn, and I made him throw in the scarecrow,
cause I meant to have a rag party; and I reckon that you'll get a good
many strips out on 'em, though they be so