"Shall I tell father that you will come with Burton to-morrow?" Hannah
asked her sister, who instantly assumed that air of invalidism which she
found so convenient when anything disagreeable was suggested for her to
do.
Drawing her shawl more closely about her, and glancing with a little
shiver at the window, she replied:
"N-no, I hardly think I shall go out to-morrow, it will be so cold, and
probably stormy; but you may expect me for a little while on Saturday,
if the day is fine."
"But _I_ shall come and stay till Monday, and I hope you have a lot of
mince pies baked up. Last Thanksgiving we were in Paris, and had pea
soup, and brains, and eels, and stewed celery for dinner," Grey said, as
he kissed his aunt and bade her good-by.
CHAPTER VIII.
AFTER THE DINNER.
The carriage which took Hannah home also took Miss McPherson to the door
of her dwelling, a large, old-fashioned New England house, with a wide
hall through the center, and a square room on either side; one the
drawing-room or parlor in which the massive furniture had not been
changed during the twenty years and more that Miss Betsey had lived
there; the other the living room where the lady sat, and ate, and
received her friends and where now a bright fire was burning in the
Franklin stove, and the kettle was singing upon the hob, while a little
round Swiss table was standing on the Persian rug before the fire, and
on it the delicate cup and saucer, and sugar bowl, and creamer, which
Miss McPherson had herself bought at Sevres years ago, when the life she
looked forward to was very different from what had actually come to her.
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