Dame Eliza Hopkins had betaken herself to William Bradford's house, the baby, Oceanus, seated astride her hip in her favourite manner of carrying him; she protested that she could not endure the gabble of the girls, but in truth she greatly desired to discuss with Mistress Bradford, of whom she stood somewhat in awe, the events portending. She was secretly elated with her husband's coming honour, and wanted to convey to Mistress Bradford that, as between their two spouses, Stephen Hopkins was the better man. Constance, sitting beside the smothered hearth fire, might be considered, since it was at her father's hearthstone the girls were gathered, as the hostess of the occasion, but the gathering was for work, not formalities, and, in any case, Constance was too preoccupied with her task to pay attention to aught else. Only the older girls were bidden, but little Damaris was there by right of tenancy. She sat at Constance's feet, worshipping her, as she turned and twisted their father's coat, skilfully furbishing it with new buttons and new binding. "May Mr. Hopkins wear velvet, Constance?" asked Humility Cooper, suddenly; she too had been watching Constance work. "Did not Elder Brewster exhort us to utmost plainness of clothing, as becomes the saints, who set more store upon heavenly raiment than earthly splendour?" Constance looked up laughingly, pushing out of her eyes her waving locks which had strayed from her cap; she used the back of the hand that held her needle, pulled at great length through a button which she was fastening upon her father's worn velvet coat. "Oh, Humility, splendour?" she laughed. "When I am trying hard to make this old coat passing decent? Isn't it necessary for us all to wear what we have, willy-nilly, since nothing else is obtainable, garments not yet growing on New World bushes? I do believe that some of the brethren discussed Stephen Hopkins's velvet coat, and decided for it, since it stood for economy. It stood for more; till a ship brings supplies from home, it's this, or no coat for my father. But since he has been selected, with Mr. Edward Winslow, to make the treaty with Massasoit, he should be clad suitably to his office, were there choice between velvet and homespun." "What does he make to treat Mass o' suet, Constance? What is Mass o' suet; pudding, Constance?" asked Damaris, anxiously, knitting her brow. Constance's laugh rang out, good to hear. She leaned forward impetuously and snatched off her little sister's decorous cap, rumpled her sleek fair hair with both hands pressing her head, and kissed her. Priscilla Mullins laughed with Constance, looking sympathetically at her, but some of the other girls looked a trifle shocked at this demonstration.