Betty shook her head. “And what should I do with it, pray?” she asked. “Uncle Shadrach wouldn't wear it for worlds--he wears only papa's clothes, you see. Oh, I might give it to Hosea; but I don't think he'd like it.”
“Hosea! Well, I declare,” exclaimed Dan, and was silent.
When he spoke a little later it was somewhat awkwardly.
“I say, did Virginia ever tell you she didn't like my cravats?” he inquired.
“Virginia!” her voice was a little startled. “Oh, Virginia thinks they're lovely.”
“Well, you are a case,” he said, and walked on slowly.
They were already in sight of the house, and he did not speak again until they had passed the portico and entered the hall. There they found Virginia and the young men, who had ridden over ahead of them, hanging evergreens for the approaching party. Jack Morson, from the top of the step-ladder, was suspending a holly wreath above the door, while Champe was entwining the mahogany balustrade in running cedar.
“Oh, Betty, would it be disrespectful to put mistletoe above General Washington's portrait?” called Virginia, as they went into the hall.
“I don't think he'd mind--the old dear,” answered Betty, throwing her armful of holly upon the floor. “There, Dan, the burden of the day is over.”
“And none too soon,” said Dan, as he tossed the holly from him. “Diggs, you sluggard, what are you sitting there in idleness for? Miss Pussy, can't you set him to work?”
Miss Pussy, who was bustling in and out with a troop of servants at her heels, found time to reply seriously that she really didn't think there was anything she could trust him with. “Of course, I don't mind your amusing yourselves with the decorations,” she added briskly, “but the cooking is quite a different thing, you know.”
“Amusing myself!” protested Dan, in astonishment. “My dear lady, do you call carrying a wagon load of brushwood amusement? Now, I'll grant, if you please, that Morson is amusing himself on the step-ladder.”
“Keep off,” implored Morson, in terror; “if you shake the thing, I'm gone, I declare I am.”
He nailed the garland in place and came down cautiously. “Now, that's what I call an artistic job,” he complacently remarked.
“Why, it's lovely,” said Virginia, smiling, as he turned to her. “It's lovely, isn't it, Betty?”