Peachie and Sir Hubert Wemyss and Noel and Kate were receiving sub rosa congratulations, and beaming faces were everywhere. Moultrie’s eyes followed Carolina wherever she was, and none noticed it more jealously than a slim, blue-eyed boy who would not mingle with the other children, even when Emmeline begged him to. He only shook his head, and continued to watch his divinity. Then old Israel, who had been a rascally boy in the days of Carolina’s grandfather, flung open the doors and the guests trooped out to the dining-room. Every one stood and exclaimed with delight at the sight which met their eyes. The majestic dinner-table of Guildford, which would seat forty, stood in the centre of the room, flanked by side-tables groaning under the glorious old Lee silver and glass and china, such as no contemporaneous eye had seen, but so often had those gathered here heard its beauty described that it seemed a familiar sight. The children had a table to themselves, and this was set across one end of the room. Emmeline was to be the mother and Bob Fitzhugh the father, and actually carve the turkey. "He’ll spill the gravy and drop the turkey on the floor, Carolina," cried his mother. "Let him," said Carolina. "Who cares? But this turkey will be so good that he will stay on the platter, as I shall bid him, and Bob shall carve him, and Emmeline shall serve the plum pudding!" Shrieks of joy went up from the children at this daring announcement, and all the parents were made radiant by their babies’ happiness. The table was long and low, with chairs to match, and the children saw with jealous delight that it was copied exactly from the big table, even to the bowls of flowers and pyramids of fruit. They even had their tiny champagne glasses, in which ’Polyte, who was their butler, poured foaming ginger ale, so that they could join in the toasts which Judge Fanshaw Lee proposed. They wriggled with an ecstasy they never had felt before, and never, never did they have such a time as at Cousin Carolina’s Thanksgiving dinner at Guildford. The climax came to their awe when, at the end of everything, Mr. Howard arose, glass in hand, and announced--what everybody knew--the engagement of his daughter Kate and Noel St. Quentin, and gave them his blessing, and everybody cried and laughed and drank their health. The children’s round eyes almost popped out of their heads. To be present at a real betrothal! It was more exciting to the little Southerners than a negro baptism. Bob Fitzhugh’s face was seen to grow very red, and then suddenly he pushed back his chair and strode to where Carolina sat, and said, in a sturdy voice: "Cousin Carolina, why can’t we announce our engagement? You know you promised to marry me."