Nobody

"Mrs. Barclay's accustomed to another sort o' doings," said theirhostess. "I didn't know but she mightn't like our ways."

"I like them very much, I assure you."

"There ain't no better ways than Shampuashuh ways," said uncle Tim. "Ifthere be, I'd like to see 'em once. Lois, you never see a handsomerdinner'n this in New York, did you? Come now, and tell. Did you?"

"I never saw a dinner where things were better of their kind, uncle

Tim."

Mrs. Barclay smiled to herself. That will do, she thought.

"Is that an answer?" said uncle Tim. "I'll be shot if I know."

"It is as good an answer as I can give," returned Lois, smiling.

"Of course she has seen handsomer!" said Mrs. Marx. "If you talk ofelegance, we don't pretend to it in Shampuashuh. Be thankful if whatyou have got is good, uncle Tim; and leave the rest."

"Well, I don't understand," responded uncle Tim. "Why shouldn'tShampuashuh be elegant, I don't see? Ain't this elegant enough foranybody?"

"'Tain't elegant at all," said Mrs. Marx. "If this was in one o' theelegant places, there'd be a bunch o' flowers in the pig's mouth, and aring on his tail."

At the face which uncle Tim made at this, Lois's gravity gave way; anda perfect echo of laughter went round the table.

"Well, I don' know what you're all laughin' at nor what you mean," saidthe object of their merriment; "but I should uncommonly like to know."

"Tell him, Lois," cried Madge, "what a dinner in New York is like. Younever did tell him."

"Well, I'm ready to hear," said the old gentleman. "I thought a dinnerwas a dinner; but I'm willin' to learn."

"Tell him, Lois!" Madge repeated.

"It would be very stupid for Mrs. Barclay," Lois objected.

"On the contrary!" said that lady. "I should very much like to hearyour description. It is interesting to hear what is familiar to usdescribed by one to whom it is novel. Go on, Lois."

"I'll tell you of one dinner, uncle Tim," said Lois, after a moment ofconsideration. "All dinners in New York, you must understand, are notlike this; this was a grand dinner."

"Christmas eve?" suggested uncle Tim.

"No. I was not there at Christmas; this was just a party. There weretwelve at table.

"In the first place, there was an oval plate of looking-glass, as longas this table – not quite so broad – that took up the whole centre of thetable." Here Lois was interrupted.

"Looking-glass!" cried uncle Tim.

"Did you ever hear anything so ridiculous?" said Charity.

"Looking-glass to set the hot dishes on?" said Mrs. Marx, to whom thisstory seemed new.

"No; not to set anything on. It took up the whole centre of the table.Round the edge of this looking-glass, all round, was a border or littlefence of solid silver, about six or eight inches high; of beautifulwrought open-work; and just within this silver fence, at intervals, stood most exquisite little white marble statues, about a foot and ahalf high. There must have been a dozen of them; and anything morebeautiful than the whole thing was, you cannot imagine."

"I should think they'd have been awfully in the way," remarked Charity.

"Not at all; there was room enough all round outside for the plates andglasses."

"The looking-glass, I suppose, was for the pretty ladies to seethemselves in!"

"Quite mistaken, uncle Tim; one could not see the reflection ofoneself; only bits of one's opposite neighbours; little flashes ofcolour here and there; and the reflection of the statuettes on thefurther side; it was prettier than ever you can think."

"I reckon it must ha' been; but I don't see the use of it," said uncle

Tim.

"That wasn't all," Lois went on. "Everybody had his own salt-cellar."

"Table must ha' been full, I should say."

"No, it was not full at all; there was plenty of room for everything, and that allowed every pretty thing to be seen. And those salt-cellarswere a study. They were delicious little silver figures – every onedifferent from the others – and each little figure presented the salt insomething. Mine was a little girl, with her apron all gathered up, asif to hold nuts or apples, and the salt was in her apron. The one nextto her was a market-woman with a flat basket on her head, and the saltwas in the basket. Another was a man bowing, with his hat in his hand; the salt was in the hat. I could not see them all, but each one seemedprettier than the other. One was a man standing by a well, with abucket drawn up, but full of salt, not water. A very pretty one was amilkman with a pail."

Uncle Tim was now reduced to silence, but Charity remarked that shecould not understand where the dishes were – the dinner.

"It was somewhere else. It was not on the table at all. The waitersbrought the things round. There were six waiters, handsomely dressed inblack, and with white silk gloves."

"White silk gloves!" echoed Charity. "Well, I do think the way somepeople live is just a sin and a shame!"

"How did you know what there was for dinner?" inquired Mrs. Marx now."I shouldn't like to make my dinner of boiled beef, if there waspartridges comin'. And when there's plum-puddin' I always like to knowit beforehand."

"We knew everything beforehand, aunt Anne. There were beautifullypainted little pieces of white silk on everybody's plate, with all thedishes named; only many, most of them, were French names, and I wasnone the wiser for them."

"Can't they call good victuals by English names?" asked uncle Tim.

"What's the sense o' that? How was anybody to know what he was eatin'?"

"O they all knew," said Lois. "Except me."

"I'll bet you were the only sensible one o' the lot," said the oldgentleman.

"Then at every plate there was a beautiful cut glass bottle, somethinglike a decanter, with ice water, and over the mouth of it a tumbler tomatch. Besides that, there were at each plate five or six other gobletsor glasses, of different colours."

"What colours?" demanded Charity.

"Yellow, and dark red, and green, and white."

"What were they all for?" asked uncle Tim.

"Wine; different sorts of wine."

"Different sorts o' wine! How many sorts did they have, at one dinner?"