The reader need not apprehend the recital, at full length, of such formidable preparations for the Widow’s tea-party as were required in the case of Colonel Sprowle’s Social Entertainment.  A tea-party, even in the country, is a comparatively simple and economical piece of business.  As soon as the Widow found that all her company were coming, she set to work, with the aid of her “smart” maid-servant and a daughter of her own, who was beginning to stretch and spread at a fearful rate, but whom she treated as a small child, to make the necessary preparations.  The silver had to be rubbed; also the grand plated urn,—­her mother’s before hers,—­style of the Empire,—­looking as if it might have been made to hold the Major’s ashes.  Then came the making and baking of cake and gingerbread, the smell whereof reached even as far as the sidewalk in front of the cottage, so that small boys returning from school snuffed it in the breeze, and discoursed with each other on its suggestions; so that the Widow Leech, who happened to pass, remembered she hadn’t called on Marilly Raowens for a consid’ble spell, and turned in at the gate and rang three times with long intervals,—­but all in vain, the inside Widow having “spotted” the outside one through the binds, and whispered to her aides-de-camp to let the old thing ring away till she pulled the bell out by the roots, but not to stir to open the door.

Widow Rowens was what they called a real smart, capable woman, not very great on books, perhaps, but knew what was what and who was who as well as another,—­knew how to make the little cottage look pretty, how to set out a tea-table, and, what a good many women never can find out, knew her own style and “got herself up tip-top,” as our young friend Master Geordie, Colonel Sprowle’s heir-apparent, remarked to his friend from one of the fresh-water colleges.  Flowers were abundant now, and she had dressed her rooms tastefully with them.  The centre-table had two or three gilt-edged books lying carelessly about on it, and some prints, and a stereoscope with stereographs to match, chiefly groups of picnics, weddings, etc., in which the same somewhat fatigued-looking ladies of fashion and brides received the attentions of the same unpleasant-looking young men, easily identified under their different disguises, consisting of fashionable raiment such as gentlemen are supposed to wear habitually.  With these, however, were some pretty English scenes,—­pretty except for the old fellow with the hanging under-lip who infests every one of that interesting series; and a statue or two, especially that famous one commonly called the Lahcoon, so as to rhyme with moon and spoon, and representing an old man with his two sons in the embraces of two monstrous serpents.

There is no denying that it was a very dashing achievement of the Widow’s to bring together so considerable a number of desirable guests.  She felt proud of her feat; but as to the triumph of getting Dudley Venner to come out for a visit to Hyacinth Cottage, she was surprised and almost frightened at her own success.  So much might depend on the impressions of that evening!