“Yes,” said May, after a little while, “I will attend to it.  My dress is such an every day affair, that I shall be able to have every thing ready, to take the head of the table in time.”

“The head of the table!  I rather expect Mr. Stillinghast intends me to preside.”

“Possibly.  If my uncle wishes it, Helen, I will certainly resign it to you; but, as I have always sat there, I shall continue to do so until he requests me to do otherwise,” said May, with becoming firmness.

“Oh, of course!  It is quite indifferent to me, my dear;—­but what have we here?” said Helen, taking up the bundle which Mr. Stillinghast had laid on the table.  “See, May, what splendidly chased silver forks!  How heavy they are; and see! here is a crest on them.”

“They are very old, I presume,” said May, examining them with interest.

“As old as the hills!  Where on earth has the old curmudgeon kept them all this time?” exclaimed Helen.  “Do you think he bought, or inherited them?”

“Inherited them, doubtless.  My mother had the same crest on her silver.  Our grandfather was an Englishman of good lineage; but see, Helen, they require a good cleansing and rubbing.  I will go to mass now, after which I will attend to your commissions.  While I am out, you had better get down the old china, which you will find on that closet shelf, with some cut glass goblets.  You can wash them up with the breakfast things; or, if you would rather wait until I return, I will assist you,” said May.

“Oh, no!  I like such work; but, May, could we not hunt up your old maummy, if she is not too old, to come and wait?” asked Helen.

“She died two years ago, Helen,” said May, turning away her head with a quivering lip.

“How unfortunate!  But, May, have you any fine table linen?”

“Yes; a number of fine damask tablecloths.”

“And napkins?”

“None.”

“Thank fortune, I have some four dozen East India napkins; they will look quite splendid on the table this evening.  But hurry on, May, I wish to clear up to make room for my harp; I expect it every moment.”

That evening, if Mr. Stillinghast had looked around him, he would scarcely have recognized the sitting-room as the one he had left in the morning.  The round table, just large enough to seat four comfortably, was elegantly spread with fine white damask, and crimson and old gold china, of an antique and elegant pattern; sparkling cut glass, and silver.  Two wax candles burned in the old-fashioned silver candelabras in the centre, on each side of which stood two clusters of geranium leaves and winter roses, arranged in small rich vases.  The grate looked resplendent, and a harp, of a magnificent pattern, heavily carved and gilded, stood in a conspicuous place.  Helen looked exquisitely lovely.  Her dress was the perfection of good taste, and well did its elaborate simplicity