the ladies of the family gathered upon the wide old piazza.

"It's as a good as a play," said Gertrude Masters. "I never saw such
society in my life, and I am curious to know what they will be like."

"You have seen them in church," said Euphemia.

"Yes, but they all feel poky there. I can't tell anything by that.
Besides, I don't hear them talk. There's somebody now!"

"Too fast for any of our good sewing friends," said Mrs. Reverdy; "and
there is no waggon. It's Mr. Masters, Gerty! How he does ride; and yet
he sits as if he was upon a rocking-horse."

"I don't think he'd sit very quiet upon a rocking-horse," said Gerty.
And then she lifted up her voice and shouted musically a salutation to
the approaching rider.

He alighted presently at the foot of the steps, and throwing the bridle
over his horse's head, joined the party.

"So delighted!" said Mrs. Reverdy graciously. "You are come just in
time to help us take care of the people."

"Are you going to entertain the nation?" asked Mr Masters.

"Only Pleasant Valley," Mrs. Reverdy answered with her little laugh;
which might mean amusement at herself or condescension to Pleasant
Valley. "Do you think they will be hard to entertain?"

"I can answer for one," said the minister. "And looking at what there
is to see from here, I could almost answer for them all." He was
considering the wide sunlit meadow, where the green and the gold, yea,
and the very elm shadows, as well as the distant hills, were
spiritualized by the slight soft haze.

"Why, what is there to see, Basil?" inquired his cousin Gertrude.

"The sky."

"You don't think that is entertaining, I hope? If you were a polite
man, you would have said something else."

She was something to see herself, in one sense, and the something was
pretty, too; but very self-conscious. From her flow of curly tresses
down to the rosettes on her slippers, every inch of her showed it. Now
the best dressing surely avoids this effect; while there is some, and
not bad dressing either, which proclaims it in every detail. The
crinkles of Gertrude's hair were crisp with it; her French print dress,
beautiful in itself, was made with French daintiness and worn with at
least equal coquettishness; her wrists bore two or three bracelets both
valuable and delicate; and Gertrude's eyes, pretty eyes too, were
audacious with the knowledge of all this. Audacious in a sweet, secret
way, understand; they were not bold eyes, openly. H