Mrs. Basset hushes us all up so, I came to bed, leaving Randal to
entertain Ruth."

As she spoke Emily saw the papers disappear in a portfolio, and Sophie
rose with a yawn.

"I was writing letters, but I'm sleepy now. Quite over my foolish
fright, thank you. Go and get your beauty sleep that you may dazzle
the natives to-morrow."

"So glad, good night;" and Emily went away, saying to herself,
"Something is going on, and I must find out what it is before I leave.
Sophie can't blind _me_."

But Sophie did all the next day, being delightfully gay at the dinner,
and devoting herself to the young minister who was invited to meet
the distinguished novelist, and evidently being afraid of him, gladly
basked in the smiles of his charming neighbor. A dashing sleigh-ride
occupied the afternoon, and then great was the fun and excitement over
the costumes.

Aunt Plumy laughed till the tears rolled down her cheeks as the girls
compressed her into the plum-colored gown with its short waist,
leg-of-mutton sleeves, and narrow skirt. But a worked scarf hid all
deficiencies, and the towering cap struck awe into the soul of the
most frivolous observer.

"Keep an eye on me, girls, for I shall certainly split somewheres or
lose my head-piece off when I'm trottin' round. What would my blessed
mother say if she could see me rigged out in her best things?" and
with a smile and a sigh the old lady departed to look after "the
boys," and see that the supper was all right.

Three prettier damsels never tripped down the wide staircase than the
brilliant brunette in crimson brocade, the pensive blonde in blue, or
the rosy little bride in old muslin and white satin.

A gallant court gentleman met them in the hall with a superb bow,
and escorted them to the parlor, where Grandma Basset's ghost was
discovered dancing with a modern major in full uniform.

Mutual admiration and many compliments followed, till other ancient
ladies and gentlemen arrived in all manner of queer costumes, and the
old house seemed to wake from its humdrum quietude to sudden music and
merriment, as if a past generation had returned to keep its Christmas
there.

The village fiddler soon struck up the good old tunes, and then the
strangers saw dancing that filled them with mingled mirth and envy; it
was so droll, yet so hearty. The young men, unusually awkward in their
grandfathers' knee-breeches, flapping vests, and swallow-tail coats,
footed it bravely with the bux