kly, Charity made the tea, Lois cut bread and made toast; and
presently talking and eating went on in the harmonious combination
which is so agreeable.

"If she comes," said Lois, "there must be curtains to the parlour
windows. I can make some of chintz, that will look pretty and not cost
much. And there must be a cover for the table."

"Why must there? The table is nice mahogany," said Charity.

"It looks cold and bare so. All tables in use have covers, at Mrs.
Wishart's."

"I don't see any sense in that. What's the good of it?"

"Looks pretty and comfortable."

"That's nothing but a notion. I don't believe in notions. You'll tell
me next our steel forks won't do."

"Well, I do tell you that. Certainly they will not do, to a person
always accustomed to silver."

"That's nothing but uppishness, Lois. I can't stand that sort of thing.
Steel's _just_ as good as silver, only it don't cost so much; that's
all."

"It don't taste as well."

"You don't need to eat your fork."

"No, but you have to touch your lips to it."

"How does that hurt you, I want to know?"

"It hurts my taste," said Lois; "and so it is uncomfortable. If Mrs.
Barclay comes, I should certainly get some plated forks. Half a dozen
would not cost much."

"Mother," said Charity, "speak to Lois! She's getting right worldly, I
think. Set her right, mother!"

"It is something I don't understand," said the old lady gravely. "Steel
forks were good enough for anybody in the land, when I was young. I
don't see, for my part, why they ain't just as good now."

Lois wisely left this question unanswered.

"But you think we ought to let this lady come, mother, don't you?"

"My dear," said Mrs. Armadale, "I think it's a providence!"

"And it won't worry you, grandmother, will it?"

"I hope not. If she's agreeable, she may do us good; and if she's
disagreeable, we may do her good."

"That's grandma all over!" exclaimed Charity; "but if she's
disagreeable, I'll tell you what, girls, I'd rather scrub floors.
'Tain't my vocation to do ugly folks good."

"Charity," said Mrs. Armadale, "it _is_ your vocation. It is what
everybody is called to do."

"It's what you've been trying to do to me all my life, ain't it?" said
Charity, laughing. "But you've got to keep on, mother; it ain't done
yet. But I declare! there ought to be somebody in a house who can be
disagreeable by spells, or the rest of the world'd grow rampant."

CHAPTER XX.

SHAM