And Cynthia said that Sally was a dear, good girl, and she did n’t believe one word of the story that she only really found one red ear at the husking that night, and hid that and kept pulling it out as if it were a new one.

And so the conversation, once started, went on as briskly as possible about the paring-bee, and the spelling-school, and the new singing-master who was coming, and how Jack Thompson had gone to Northampton to be a clerk in a store, and how Elvira Reddington, in the geography class at school, was asked what was the capital of Massachusetts, and had answered “Northampton,” and all the school laughed.  John enjoyed the conversation amazingly, and he half wished that he and Cynthia were the whole of the party.

But the party had meantime got into operation, and the formality was broken up when the boys and girls had ventured out of the parlor into the more comfortable living-room, with its easy-chairs and everyday things, and even gone so far as to penetrate the kitchen in their frolic.  As soon as they forgot they were a party, they began to enjoy themselves.

But the real pleasure only began with the games.  The party was nothing without the games, and, indeed, it was made for the games.  Very likely it was one of the timid girls who proposed to play something, and when the ice was once broken, the whole company went into the business enthusiastically.  There was no dancing.  We should hope not.  Not in the deacon’s house; not with the deacon’s daughters, nor anywhere in this good Puritanic society.  Dancing was a sin in itself, and no one could tell what it would lead to.  But there was no reason why the boys and girls shouldn’t come together and kiss each other during a whole evening occasionally.  Kissing was a sign of peace, and was not at all like taking hold of hands and skipping about to the scraping of a wicked fiddle.

In the games there was a great deal of clasping hands, of going round in a circle, of passing under each other’s elevated arms, of singing about my true love, and the end was kisses distributed with more or less partiality, according to the rules of the play; but, thank Heaven, there was no fiddler.  John liked it all, and was quite brave about paying all the forfeits imposed on him, even to the kissing all the girls in the room; but he thought he could have amended that by kissing a few of them a good many times instead of kissing them all once.

But John was destined to have a damper put upon his enjoyment.  They were playing a most fascinating game, in which they all stand in a circle and sing a philandering song, except one who is in the center of the ring, and holds a cushion.  At a certain word in the song, the one in the center throws the cushion at the feet of some one in the ring, indicating thereby the choice of a “mate” and then the two sweetly kneel upon the cushion, like two meek angels, and—­and so forth.  Then the chosen one takes the cushion and the delightful play