I noticed while we sat there that Mateel did not regain her accustomed color, but remained very pale, from which I imagined her health was failing, for she had always been delicate. The costly finery which she wore, though in good taste, made her look ghastly, and I was compelled to admit that she had never appeared to a worse advantage. Her cheeks were sunken, and her form wasted, and she seemed entirely too old for the fresh young man by her side. I imagined that Jo thought of this, too, and regretted she was not more girlish. When dinner was ready, I noticed that plates were laid for several guests besides Agnes and myself, as if they expected that more of Jo’s friends would be present, whereupon it occurred to me to apologize that my mother was ill, and had sent her regrets. “The regrets are accepted,” Jo said, as though others had been sent. “We could not have a more cheerful company than this. So far as I am concerned, the company is satisfactory.” Mateel expressed some such sentiment, and so did we all. “But I wonder Clinton Bragg is not here,” I said. “I met him on the road, and I am certain he was dressed for a wedding.” I immediately regretted saying it, for I thought that both Mateel and Jo colored at the mention of his name, but after some hesitation, Mateel said: “He was not expected.” At this moment Mr. Shepherd excused himself to answer a knock at the door, and when he came back he said that it was Clinton Bragg, who had stopped in on a trifling errand, and who had gone away again. I was not surprised that the fellow appeared at the house on that day, for he was always where he was not wanted, but I wondered he had not accepted the invitation to dinner, which Mr. Shepherd said he had given. It would have been a splendid opportunity to make himself disagreeable. All of them seemed to be in a worse humor after this, and they had not been merry before. Mateel got up from the table soon after, and insisted on helping her mother, which example was followed by Agnes, and finally by Mr. Shepherd, who went to do some sort of carving, leaving Jo and me alone. The dinner was an elaborate one, and the table set for at least twenty, so that we felt lost in the desert of dishes. Some of them tried to be gay at the circumstance of our being alone at the table, and they helped us very liberally, but it was a failure, and the time passed very dismally. I believe that Jo felt guilty that more of his friends were not present,--or rather that he had but two to invite,--and I knew that I felt very awkward in being the groom’s only satellite, since he had lived in the neighborhood all his life; and, though I attempted pleasantries in great number, either they were not heard or not appreciated, so that the dinner was very much of a failure, as Jo whispered to me as we sat at one end of the long table together.