Guy At Home

Saturday came at last, a balmy September day, when all nature seemed
conspiring to welcome the travelers for whom so extensive preparations
were making at Aikenside. They were expected at about six in the
afternoon, and just before that hour the doctor rode up to be in
readiness to meet them. In the dining-room the table was set as Maddy
had never seen it set before, making, with its silver, its china, and
cut-glass, a glittering display. There was Guy's seat as carver, with
Agnes at the urn, while Maddy felt sure that the two plates between
Agnes and Guy were intended for Jessie and herself, the doctor
occupying the other side. Jessie would sit next her mother, which
would leave her near to Guy, where he could see every movement she
made. Would he think her awkward, or would he, as she hoped, be so
much absorbed with the doctor as not to notice her? Suppose she should
drop her fork, or upset one of those queer-looking goblets, more like
bowls than anything else? It would be terrible, and Maddy's cheeks
tingled at the very thought of such a catastrophe. Were they goblets
really, those funny colored things, and if they were not, what were
they? Summoning all her courage, she asked the doctor, her prime
counselor, and learned that they were the finger-glasses, of which she
had read, but which she had never seen before.

"Oh, must I use them?" she asked, in so evident distress that the
doctor could not forbear a laugh as he told her it was not of the
slightest consequence whether she used them or not, advising her to
watch Mrs. Agnes, who was _au fait_ in all such matters.