erful-looking dame, with her long upper robe well tucked up,
and her gray hair pushed tightly away beneath a severe-looking
coif, was superintending a number of culinary tasks, Jemima and a
serving wench obeying the glance of her eye and the turn of her
hand with the precision of long practice.

Certainly it was plain that Martin Holt's guests would not starve
that night. The herring pie was only the crowning delicacy of the
board, which was to groan beneath a variety of appetizing dishes.
The Puritans were a temperate race, and the baneful habit of sack
drinking at all hours, of perpetual pledgings and toastings, and
the large consumption of fiery liquors, was at a discount in their
houses; but they nevertheless liked a good table as well as the
rest of their kind, and saw no hurt in sitting down to a generously
supplied board, whilst they made up for their abstemiousness in the
matter of liquor by the healthy and voracious appetite which
speedily caused the good cheer to melt away.

Mistress Susan was so intent on her preparations that she scarcely
let her nieces pause to eat their frugal midday dinner. Martin
himself was out on business, and would dine abroad that day, and
nothing better pleased the careful housewife than to dispense with
any formal dinner when there was a company supper to be cooked, and
thus save the attendant labour of washing up as well as the time
wasted in the consumption of the meal.

Jemima and Keziah never dreamed of disputing their aunt's will; but
Cherry pouted and complained that it was hard to work all day
without even the dinner hour as a relief. Mistress Susan gave her a
sharp rebuke that silenced without subduing her; and she kept
throwing wistful glances out of the window, watching the play of
sunshine on the water, and longing to be out in the fresh air--for
such a day as this was too good to be wasted indoors. Tomorrow
belike the sun would not shine, and the wind would be cold and
nipping.

Jemima and Keziah saw the wistful glances, and longed to interpose
on behalf of their favourite; but Mistress Susan was not one it was
well to interfere with, and Cherry was not in favour that day. But
an inspiration came over Jemima at last, and she suddenly
exclaimed:

"Sure, but how badly we need some fresh rushes for the parlour
floor! There be not enough to cover it, and they all brown and old.
There has been scarce any frost as yet. I trow the river rushes
will be yet green, and at