inda, sailing out to
the lawn with a broad straw flat overshadowing her like an umbrella.
"Well, Caleb, I 'low ebbery ting am pernicious 'bout de party."

Caleb, who was ah old fisherman, reared at Cape Cod, and not to be put
out of his way easily, occupied plenty of time before he answered. The
afternoon was warm, so he took the oil-cloth cap from his head, and
wiped its baldness vigorously with an old silk handkerchief. Then he
deposited the handkerchief in the crown of his cap, and settled himself
into his garments with a shake, sailor fashion.

Clorinda's broad flat vibrated with its wearer's impatience, and
Victoria was stamping down the grass, and menacing the old man with her
fist during the whole of his slow performance.

"Now," she said, "now."

"Wal, the long and the short of it is, they're all a coming, especially
from Squir Rhodes. Miss Jemima wasn't willing at first, but the Squir
sot in and said his colored people hadn't much chance for fun anyhow,
and shouldn't be kept back from what come along in a nat'ral way."

"Squir Rhodes was ales a pusson as I s'pected," said Clorinda. "Let's
see how many of 'em will count up."

She made rather bungling work in counting her fingers, going over them
three or four times, and getting terribly puzzled in the end.

In the midst of her confusion, Victoria gave a little cry of dismay, and
made a rush for the house, where she frantically tore off her apron and
tucked it under one of the hall mats.

Clorinda, filled with indignation by this strange proceeding, turned in
search of the cause, and lo! there was Dolf, Mr. Mellen's own man,
crossing the lawn, with two other gentlemen of color, evidently from the
city.

Clorinda snatched the broad straw flat from her head, and began to
arrange her Madras turban with both hands, thus unhappily exposing some
tufts of frosty gray that had managed to creep, year after year, into
her wool. After this rather abrupt toilet, she drew herself up with a
grand air, and marched forward to receive the strangers in a glorious
state of self-complacency.

"Mr. Dolf, yer welcome as hot-house peaches--and these gemmen, may I
'quest an interdiction?"

Dolf had just been informing his companions that the lady approaching
them was not to be sneezed at in any particular whatever, as she ruled
the roost of Piney Cove, and had, everybody said, laid up lots of rocks;
besides, as for cooking--well, he said nothing, it was not necessary;
they