The lithe limbed mulatto gave a hop on to the portico, and another bound to the soft grass of the lawn, whence she ran, like a deer, to meet our sea-loving friend, with the high shoulders, who was crossing towards the house at a far brisker pace than was usual to him. "Hav yer give the instergations?" cried Victoria, out of breath with swift running. "Am the folks a coming to our party?" Caleb looked wonderfully grave, and attempted to shake his head; but Vic saw, by the gleam in his eyes, that it was all pretence, and clapping her hands like a little gypsy as she was, dashed into a break-down on the grass, calling out, "Hi, dic-a-dory, I told yer so--I told yer so!" "Well, what am all dis muss 'bout?" exclaimed Clorinda, sailing out to the lawn with a broad straw flat overshadowing her like an umbrella. "Well, Caleb, I 'low ebbery ting am pernicious 'bout de party." Caleb, who was ah old fisherman, reared at Cape Cod, and not to be put out of his way easily, occupied plenty of time before he answered. The afternoon was warm, so he took the oil-cloth cap from his head, and wiped its baldness vigorously with an old silk handkerchief. Then he deposited the handkerchief in the crown of his cap, and settled himself into his garments with a shake, sailor fashion. Clorinda's broad flat vibrated with its wearer's impatience, and Victoria was stamping down the grass, and menacing the old man with her fist during the whole of his slow performance. "Now," she said, "now." "Wal, the long and the short of it is, they're all a coming, especially from Squir Rhodes. Miss Jemima wasn't willing at first, but the Squir sot in and said his colored people hadn't much chance for fun anyhow, and shouldn't be kept back from what come along in a nat'ral way." "Squir Rhodes was ales a pusson as I s'pected," said Clorinda. "Let's see how many of 'em will count up." She made rather bungling work in counting her fingers, going over them three or four times, and getting terribly puzzled in the end. In the midst of her confusion, Victoria gave a little cry of dismay, and made a rush for the house, where she frantically tore off her apron and tucked it under one of the hall mats. Clorinda, filled with indignation by this strange proceeding, turned in search of the cause, and lo! there was Dolf, Mr. Mellen's own man, crossing the lawn, with two other gentlemen of color, evidently from the city. Clorinda snatched the broad straw flat from her head, and began to arrange her Madras turban with both hands, thus unhappily exposing some tufts of frosty gray that had managed to creep, year after year, into her wool. After this rather abrupt toilet, she drew herself up with a grand air, and marched forward to receive the strangers in a glorious state of self-complacency. "Mr. Dolf, yer welcome as hot-house peaches--and these gemmen, may I 'quest an interdiction?"