"I shan't eat at the same table with those creatures," said Madam
Conway, feeling intuitively that she would be invited to dinner.
"Why, grandma, yes you will, if she asks you," answered Maggie. "Only
think how kind they are to us--perfect strangers!"
What else she might have said was prevented by the entrance of Betsy
Jane, who informed them that dinner was ready, and with a mental
groan, as she thought how she was about to be martyred, Madam Conway
followed her to the dining room, where a plain, substantial farmer's
meal was spread. Standing at the head of the table, with her
good-humored face all in a glow, was the hostess, who, pointing Madam
Conway to? chair, said: "Now set right by, and make yourselves to hum.
Mebby I or to have set the table over, and I guess I should if I had
anything fit to eat. Be you fond of biled victuals?" and taking it for
granted they were, she loaded both Madam Conway's and Maggie's plate
with every variety of vegetables used in the preparation of the dish
known everywhere as "boiled victuals."
By this time the men had ranged themselves in respectful silence upon
the opposite side of the table, each stealing an admiring though
modest glance at Maggie; for the masculine heart, whether it beats
beneath a homespun frock or coat of finest cloth, is alike susceptible
to glowing, youthful beauty like that of Maggie Miller. The head of
the house was absent--"had gone to town with a load of wood," so his
spouse informed the ladies, at the same time pouring out a cup of tea,
which she said she had tried to make strong enough to bear up an egg.
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