With the exception of Benjamin Wright, all Old Chester lent itself to
William King's project with very good grace. Mr. Wright said, gruffly,
that a man with one foot in the grave couldn't dance a jig, so he
preferred to stay at home. But the rest of Old Chester said that
although she was so quiet and kept herself to herself so much, Mrs.
Richie was a ladylike person; a little shy, perhaps--or perhaps only
properly hesitant to push her way into society; at any rate it was but
kind to show her some attention.

"Her modesty does her credit," Mrs. Barkley said, "but it will be
gratifying to her to be noticed. I'll come, William, and bring a cake.
And Maria Welwood shall tell Ezra to take three bottles of Catawba."

A little before eight, the company began to assemble, full of such
cordial courtesy that Mrs. Richie's shrinking and awkward coldness
only incited them to heartier friendliness. Dr. King, master of
ceremonies, was ably assisted by his Martha. Mrs. King may have been,
as she told all the guests, very tired, but she could be depended upon
to be efficient. It was she who had engaged Uncle Davy and his fiddle;
she who put the cakes and wine and fruit upon the dining-room table,
already somewhat meagerly arranged by Helena's reluctant hands; she
who bustled about to find card-tables, and induced Tom Dilworth to
sing; "Thou--Thou reignest in this bosom!--"