“What a silly girl I am!” thought Lily, unconsciously shaking her head. Just then she was flung violently to one side, her mother half tumbling upon her. At breakneck speed, and with a great flourish of his whip, Mr. Buchanan had just negotiated the abrupt and difficult turn into the gate of the Webster’s farm.
Once past the gate, a long and rather narrow road descended gradually between two snake-fences to the hollow where the big, rambling, comfortable old homestead stood. The road leading from the house to the barn was illuminated with colored lanterns, which threw weird tints over the faces of the masqueraders as they sped past.
Already a dozen sleighs had emptied on the wooden platform in front of the big sliding doors; already the huge room, with its high ceiling crossed by solid rafters, was half full of people. It was gaily decorated. Ropes of cedar entwined the rafters, branches of holly were tacked to the walls, colored lanterns, with sly sprays of mistletoe hanging from them, dangled from the ceiling. A huge fire blazed in a great brick fireplace, in front of which the older men had collected to drink a toast with Mr. Webster. And up in the erstwhile hayloft, which now did duty as a sort of musicians’ gallery, a negro band was already playing “Old Uncle Ned,” with such irresistible liveliness that many dancers had begun to spin about the floor without having paused to take off their heavy wraps.
For a New Year’s party at the Websters to be anything but jolly,—superlatively merry—was an unheard of thing. Indeed it could not have been otherwise. Theirs was quite the merriest family in the world. To see the four big boys, with their irresistible grins, and the two rosy-cheeked bright-eyed girls, and Mrs. Webster, a dignified-looking woman, with a pair of twinkling eyes, and a lively tongue, and old Mr. Webster, rotund and ruddy, was sufficient to dispose the most melancholy soul in the world to jocund mirth.
Around the fire the old wags were cracking jokes and recounting their favorite anecdotes. Then the darkies, grinning from ear to ear, and showing rows of teeth like ears of corn, struck up a Virginia Reel.
“Ah-ha!” cried Mr. Webster. “Choose your partners, gentlemen!” and dashing across the room, he singled out Janey.