On the eventful night, Boyce was as busy as a bee running up and down stairs, crossing the street for yards of ribbon, or papers of pins, holding consultations with Kate Gorman, and haunting the stables to make certain that the carriage would come in time. Now and then he got a glimpse of the mistress, who made a general dressing-room of the whole second floor, and betrayed the progress of her toilet more frequently than she was conscious of. At such times Boyce would lean forward, with a hand on each knee, and exclaim, in the fullness of his admiration, “Oh, my! Isn’t that dress agoing to put down the hull bilen of ’em. If there’s a more stupendous lady than she’ll be, I’d like to see her a going to the party, that’s all. Jim’s sister to think of evening herself agin us. White pigeons agin peacocks, with moons on their spread feathers! Bosh!” Mrs. Smith heard these exclamations with no little elation; and Kate Gorman repeated them, with Hibernian improvements, that fairly took the good woman off her feet. It was an important moment when Mrs. Smith descended to the store, with her red moire antique gathered up in voluminous folds around her person, and a huge bouquet in her hand. When Boyce heard her step on the stairs, he fell to work at once, removed baskets of fruit, butter-tubs and fish-barrels from their places, and widened a safe passage for the gorgeous dress, which passed through, as it were, with a rustle and flutter of acknowledgment. This the mistress intensified, by a world of gracious thanks, and permission to close the store immediately after ten. This was exactly what Boyce had been aiming at, having made a private arrangement to go out with Kate Gorman. The moment Smith’s carriage drove off, Boyce took authority on himself, and summoned James to action. “Come along here and help put up the shutters. Haul them baskets inside, and don’t stuff your pockets full of cranberries, while you’re a doing it. I know yer tricks, old feller, so look sharp, if you want me to hold my tongue.” James had just seen his sister come forth in her soft white raiment, and fresh flowers, on her way to the party, and felt some resentment at the disparaging remarks Boyce made about her. But he knew well enough that words would be of no avail with the young tyrant, and obeyed him in angry silence. In a few minutes the shutters were closed, and even the coal-bin, which projected on the side-walk, was safely fastened. When this was done, Boyce led the way up stairs, and met Kate Gorman at the landing, with her shawl and bonnet on. “They’re asleep at last,” she said, “all but Jerusha Maria; she holds out like a trooper, for the sight of that red dress just drove her wild, and she keeps snatching at the yeller feather yet. I gave her a double dose of paregoric, and got her under a little; but she’s wide awake yet.”