Miss Joanna had been as good as her word. The dinner-party had been a complete success, with Mrs. Beckwith and her elder daughter among the guests, and with no end of admiring phrases concerning the graceful decorations of the old house falling upon the decorator’s grateful ears. Whereupon Miss Brook had started the ball rolling in a quiet way, and within a few days Isabelle had already been called upon three times to “help” some distracted hostess prepare for a social entertainment. Those who called upon her once, invariably did so the second time; and before the end of her “first season,” as Bonny teasingly called her sister’s early experiments, Miss Beckwith had become the fashion, but, fortunately, a “fashion” so thoroughly useful and agreeable that she was destined to outlive the common existence of “fads” and to be looked upon as a necessity in New Windsor festivities. Now three years had slipped away. “Almost imperceptibly, isn’t it, Motherkin? We have been, we always are, so busy that it doesn’t seem any time from one spring to another;” and there was to be a little dinner-party at The Lindens itself. “The list of guests is a short one, but big enough to cover our dearest friends, after all; and that’s all a body, a work-a-day body, wants of any company. If we hadn’t ‘waived formality for once’ and invited Mr. Dolloway to dine with his ‘betters,’ we should have had an odd number at table, and if there’s anything I dislike it is a lop-sided table.” “Come, Beatrice! No trespassing on my preserves! I am the judge of what a table should be, and if our third guest had proved as ‘contrary’ as I fully expected, I was going to crown my eighth chair with laurel and set it up to the ‘Success of The Lindens and the Family Industry!’ However, I’d rather see a happy human face at the table’s foot than any laurel wreath; and there they all come!” As she spoke, Isabelle gave a satisfied glance about the “peace-room,” and the banquet therein prepared. “I don’t wonder you’re proud, Belle! Every dish of which we shall partake has been prepared by your own fingers, as well as almost all the lovely things in this room, except, of course, my masterpiece of honey. The Bees, the Lieutenant, and your Humble Servant claim credit for that golden pyramid! Ah, yes, and the Eggs, and the Chickens, and the Boned Turkey,--these are the Motherkin’s! But all the rest-- They’re at the door, dear! Come and receive them.” Arm in arm the sisters passed to the wide porch, and stood there smiling welcome upon the three aged figures which came slowly up the driveway. “Ah, ha, my dears! That’s what I like! A welcome at the open door! That’s hearty and old-fashioned, and as it should be. Between friends, my dears, between friends. Of course, in a stately assemblage one must do as custom dictates. And may I be allowed to pay you both a bit of a compliment on this happy occasion!”