ct.
The first and the third generation were represented at the table; the
second was wanting; the old gentleman, the head of the family, was
surrounded by only his grand-daughters. Now old Mr. Bowdoin was as
simple and plain-hearted a man as all his country neighbours, if
somewhat richer than most of them; he had wrought at the same labour,
and grown up with the same associations. He was not more respectable
than respected; generous, honest, and kindly. But the young ladies, his
grandchildren, Evan's sisters, were different. They came to spend the
summer with him, and they brought fancies and notions from their
far-away city life, which made a somewhat incongruous mixture with the
elemental simplicity of their grandfather's house. All this appeared
now. The old farmer's plain strong features, his homespun dress and his
bowl of milk, were at one end of the table, where he presided heartily
over the fried ham and eggs. Look where you would beside, and you saw
ruffled chintzes and little fly-away breakfast-caps, and fingers with
jewels on them. Miss Euphemia had her tresses of long hair unbound and
unbraided, hanging down her back in a style that to her grandfather
savoured of barbarism; he could not be made to understand that it was a
token of the highest elegance. For these ladies there was some attempt
at elaborate and dainty cookery, signified by sweetbreads and a puffed
omelette; and Mrs. Reverdy presided over a coffee-pot that was the
wonder of the Elmfield household, and even a little matter of pride to
the old squire himself; though he covered it with laughing at her mimic
fires and doubtful steam engines. Gertrude Masters was still at
Elmfield, the only one left of a tribe of visitors who had made the old
place gay through the summer.

"I have had an invitation," said Mrs. Reverdy as she sent her
grandfather his cup of coffee. And she laughed. I wish I could give the
impression of this little laugh of hers, which, in company, was the
attendant of most of her speeches. A little gracious laugh, with a
funny air as if she were condescending, either to her subject or
herself, and amused at it.

"What is it, Vevay? what invitation?" inquired her sister; while
Gertrude tossed her mass of tresses from her neck, and looked as if
nothing at Pleasant Valley concerned _her_.

"An invitation to the sewing society!" said Mrs. Reverdy. "We are all
asked." And the laugh grew very amused indeed.

"What do they do?" inquired