ymaking had previously been,
the Monroe girls were instantly drawn into the spirit of the occasion.
Martie and Sally were dragged upstairs, where they left hats and coats,
were taken downstairs again with affectionate, girlish arms about their
waists; and found themselves laughing and shouting with the rest. Towed
through the boiling crowd to Grandma, they kissed the cool, soft old
face. They greeted the other old women with pretty enthusiasm.

Lydia meanwhile had decorously delivered her message of good wishes and
had drifted to a chair against the wall, where matrons greeted her
eagerly and where, in her own way, she began to enjoy herself.
Sentiment, hospitality, gaiety filled the air.

"Isn't Grandma wonderful?" said all the voices, over and over. "I think
she's wonderful! Mrs. Hawkes had a dinner for just the five old ladies,
you know. Wasn't that sweet? The family had to have their dinner
earlier--just the five old ladies. Wasn't that a cute idea? Ellen said
they looked perfectly dear, all together! Mary Clute couldn't get here
from San Francisco, you know, but she sent Grandma a tea-pot cover--the
cutest thing! Did you see the Davids' baby? It's upstairs, I guess;
it's a darling little thing! Think of it, three great-grandchildren!
Oh, I do, too; I think it's a lovely party--I think the rooms look
lovely--I think it was an awfully cute idea!"

The oldest David grandchild, becoming sodden with sleepiness, climbed
into Lydia's lap. Sally, after exchanging a conscious undertone with
young Joe, slipped through the dining-room door with him, and happily
joined the working forces in the kitchen. In her mind Sally knew that
the Hawkeses were but homely folk; she knew that any Monroe should
shrink from this hot and noisy kitchen. But Sally's heart welcomed the
eager bustle, the tasks so imperative that her timid little entity was
entirely forgotten, the talk that was friendly and affectionate and
comprehensible.

Joe and she laughed over piecing tablecloths together for the long
table, and kept a jingling ripple of laughter accompanying the jingling
of plated spoons and the thick glasses. Ellen and Grace, as the family
debutantes, were inside with the company, but Carrie and Min, the
married daughters, were here, with old Mrs. Crowley, who never missed
an occasion of this kind, Mrs. Mulkey's daughter Annie Tate, Gertie
Hansen, and an excited fringe of children too young to dance and too
old to be sent off to bed.