Constance fluttered away in a visible state of pleasant excitement. Her father watched her without speaking, his eyes still gloomy; he knew that Constance lacked knowledge of his reason for being anxious over Giles's absence. "And why should you hasten the getting of breakfast, Constantia Hopkins?" demanded Dame Eliza. "It is to be no earlier than common. If you are thinking to see Priscilla Mullins made the wife of John Alden, it will not be till nine of the clock, and that is nearly three hours distant." "Ah, but I am going to dress the bride!" triumphed Constance. "I'm going to dress her from top to toe, and coil her wealth of glossy hair, to show best its masses! And to crown her dear pretty face with it brought around her brow, as only I can bend it, so Pris declares! My dear, winsome Pris!" "Will you let be such vanity and catering to sinful worldliness, Stephen Hopkins?" demanded that unfortunate man's wife, with asperity. "Why will you allow your daughter to divert Priscilla Mullins from the awfulness of the vows she will utter, filling her mind with thoughts that ill become a Puritan bride, and one to be a Puritan wife? I will say for your wife, sir, that she did not come to vow herself to you in such wise. And when Constantia herself becomes a matron of this plantation she will not deport herself becomingly if she spend her maidenhood fostering vanity in others. But there is no folly in which you will not uphold her! I pray that I may live to keep Damaris to the narrow path." "Aye, and my sweet Con hath lost Her mother!" burst out Stephen Hopkins, already too disturbed in mind to bear his wife's nagging. His allusion to Constance's mother, of whose memory his wife was vindictively jealous, would have brought forth a storm, but that Constance flew to her father, caught him by the arm, and drew him swiftly out of the door, saying: "Nay, nay, my dear one; what is the use? Let us be happy on Pris's wedding day. I feel as though if we were happy it would somehow bring good to her. Don't mind Mistress Eliza; let her rail. If it were not about this, it would be something else. Come down the grass a way, my father, and see how the sunshine sparkles on the sea. The day is smiling on Pris, at least, and is decked for her by God, so why should my stepmother mind that I shall make the girl herself as fair as I know how?" "You are a dear lass, Con, child, and I swear I don't know how I should bear my days without you," said Stephen Hopkins, something suspiciously like a quaver in his voice. He did not return to the house till Con had prepared the breakfast. Hastily she cleared it away, her stepmother purposely delaying the meal as long as possible. But Dame Eliza's utmost contrariness could not hold back Constance's swift work long enough to make the hour very late when it was done, the room set in order, and Constance herself, unadorned, in her plain Sunday garb, hastening over the young grass to where Priscilla awaited her.