No one made any answer until Lizzie, who was more of my way of thinking, said, “_You_ must have had beaux early, grandma, for you wasn’t quite fifteen when you were married; I saw it so in the Bible!” Of course, grandma had nothing to offer in her own defence, save the very correct remark, that “girls now-adays were not what they were when she was young;”—and here the conversation ceased. CHAPTER VII. DELL THOMPSON’S PARTY. One day, about three weeks after the commencement of my school, I was surprised by a call from Dell Thompson, who, after conversing awhile, very familiarly, astonished me with an invitation to visit her the next afternoon. “She was going to have a few of her friends from the village,” she said, “Dr. Clayton with the rest.” Here she looked at me and I looked out of the window, while she continued, “You’ll come, I suppose.” I replied that I would, after which she departed, leaving me in a perfect state of bewilderment. _I_ invited to Captain Thompson’s, with Dell’s fashionable friends! What could it mean, and what should I wear? This last was by far the more important question; for I knew that the people of the village were noted for their fine dress, and I, of course, could not compete with them in point of elegance. Dr. Clayton too, I had heard, was rather fastidious in his ideas of a lady’s dress, and my heart sank within me as I mentally enumerated the articles of my scanty wardrobe, finding therein nothing which I deemed fit for the occasion, save a white dotted muslin, which was now lying soiled and wrinkled at the bottom of my trunk. It is true, I had a blue and white lawn, neatly made and quite becoming, but my heart was set upon the muslin, and so when Mrs. Ross, with whom I was that week boarding, offered to wash and iron it, I accepted the proffered kindness. The next morning, when I passed Captain Thompson’s, I observed a great commotion in and around the house. The blinds were thrown back, and through the parlor windows I caught sight of brooms and dusters, while at intervals during the day, the scholars brought me tidings of cake, jellies, and ice-cream, said to be in progress. At precisely four o’clock I dismissed school, and taking a short cut across the fields, soon reached my boarding-place, where I found Mrs. Ross bending over the ironing-table with a face flushed, and indicative of some anxiety. “I never see nothin’ beat it,” she began, holding down her hot iron and thereby making a slightly yellow spot on the dress. “I never see nothin’ beat it, how this gown pesters me. It must be poor stuff, or somethin’,—but mebby it’ll look better on you,” she continued, as she gave it a finishing touch, and then held it up to view.