tipsy counts then. Uncle Hancock (a sweet man, my dears, though
some call him mean now-a-days) was dead, and aunt had married
Captain Scott.
“It was not at all the thing for her to do; however, that ‘s neither
here nor there. She was living in Federal Street at the time, a most
aristocratic street then, children, and we lived close by.
“Old Josiah Quincy was mayor of the city, and he sent aunt word
that the Marquis Lafayette wished to pay his respects to her.
“Of course she was delighted, and we all flew about to make ready
for him. Aunt was an old lady, but she made a grand toilet, and
was as anxious to look well as any girl.”
“What did she wear?” asked Fan, with interest.
“She wore a steel-colored satin, trimmed with black lace, and on
her cap was pinned a Lafayette badge of white satin.
“I never shall forget how b-e-a-utifully she looked as she sat in
state on the front parlor sophy, right under a great portrait of her
first husband; and on either side of her sat Madam Storer and
Madam Williams, elegant to behold, in their stiff silks, rich lace,
and stately turbans. We don’t see such splendid old ladies
now-a-days ”
“I think we do sometimes,” said Polly, slyly.
Grandma shook her head, but it pleased her very much to be
admired, for she had been a beauty in her day.
“We girls had dressed the house with flowers; old Mr. Coolidge
sent in a clothes-basket full. Joe Joy provided the badges, and aunt
got out some of the Revolutionary wine from the old Beacon Street
cellar.
“I wore my green and white palmyrine, my hair bowed high, the
beautiful leg-o’-mutton sleeves that were so becoming, and these
very gloves.
“Well, by-and-by the General, escorted by the Mayor, drove up.
Dear me, I see him now! a little old man in nankeen trousers and
vest, a long blue coat and ruffled shirt, leaning on his cane, for he
was lame, and smiling and bowing like a true Frenchman.
“As he approached, the three old ladies rose, and courtesied with
the utmost dignity. Lafayette bowed first to the Governor’s picture,
then to the Governor’s widow, and kissed her hand.
“That was droll; for on the back of her glove was stamped
Lafayette’s likeness, and the gallant old gentleman kissed his own
face.
“Then some of the young ladies were presented, and, as if to
escape any further self-salutations, the marquis kissed the pretty
girls on the cheek.
“Yes, my dears, here is just the spot where the dear old man
saluted me. I ‘m quite as proud of it now as I was then, for he was a
brave, good man, and helped us in our trouble.
“He did not stay long, but we were very merry, drinking his health,
receiving his compliments, and enjoying the honor he did us.
“Down in the street there was a crowd, of course, and when he left
they wanted to take out the horses and drag him home in triumph.
But he did n’t wish it; and while that affair was being arranged, we
girls had been pelting him with the flowers which we tore from the
vases, the walls, and our own topknots, to scatter over him.
“He liked that, and laughed, and waved his hand to us, while we
ran, and pelted, and begged him to come again.
“We young folks quite lost our heads that night, and I have n’t a
very clear idea of how I got home. The last thing I remember was
hanging out of the window with a flock of girls, watching the
carriage roll away, while the crowd cheered as if they were mad.
“Bless my heart, it seems as if I heard ’em now! ‘Hurrah for
Lafayette and Mayor Quincy! Hurrah for Madam Hancock and the
pretty girls! Hurrah for Col. May!’ ‘Three cheers for Boston! Now,
then! Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!’ ”
And here the old lady stopped, out of breath, with her cap askew,
her spectacles on the end of her nose, and her knitting much the
worse for being waved enthusiastically in the air, while she hung