But now the muskets, which had been so prominently displayed, were slung up out of the way and the vendue turned into an outdoor reception, with Mistress Williams holding gracious levee upon her doorstep.
When the final guest had departed—all save Mistress Ball and Uzal—Mary Williams turned to the bright young face at her elbow.
"Ah, Sally," she sighed, catching the girl's mittened hands in hers, "I know not what I shall do wi'out ye! 'Twill be a lonely house wi'out Sally!"
Mistress Ball looked at her reproachfully. "But think how drear our house would be wi'out the maid!" she said.
Sally stood looking dubiously from one to another. Were they making fun of her? Then, suddenly—and her heart sung with the knowledge!—she understood that she had been missed, indeed—and that now she was wanted! Wanted! She who had eaten the ungracious bread of begrudging hospitality!
"And ye ha' young people left i' your house!" went on Mistress Ball gently. "Nay, Mary, lure the maid not away from me!"
"Aye, 'tis true! Yet shall we all miss ye! Farewell, Sally!" sighed Mistress Williams, while Zenas said a bashful farewell over his mother's shoulder.
"Farewell, dear mistress!" answered Sally, wondering why she felt so much like weeping, when she
