FullReads

Old Mr. and Mrs. Bromwick came. They thought it would not be neighborly to stay away. They insisted on getting into the most uncomfortable seats.

Yet there seemed to be seats enough while the Gibbons boys preferred to stand. But they never could sit round a tea-table. Elizabeth Eliza had thought they all might have room at the table, and Solomon John and the little boys could help in the waiting.

It was a great moment when the lady from Philadelphia arrived with her daughters. Mr. Peterkin was talking to Mr. Bromwick, who was a little deaf. The Gibbons boys retreated a little farther behind the parlor door. Mrs. Peterkin hastened forward to shake hands with the lady from Philadelphia, saying:–

“Four Gibbons girls and Mary Osborne’s aunt,–that makes nineteen; and now”–

It made no difference what she said; for there was such a murmuring of talk that any words suited. And the lady from Philadelphia wanted to be introduced to the Bromwicks.

It was delightful for the little boys. They came to Elizabeth Eliza, and asked:–

“Can’t we go and ask more? Can’t we fetch the Larkins?”

“Oh, dear, no!” answered Elizabeth Eliza. “I can’t even count them.”

Mrs. Peterkin found time to meet Elizabeth Eliza in the side entry, to ask if there were going to be cups enough.

“I have set Agamemnon in the front entry to count,”‘ said Elizabeth Eliza, putting her hand to her head.

The little boys came to say that the Maberlys were coming.

“The Maberlys!” exclaimed Elizabeth Eliza. “I never asked them.”

“It is your father’s doing,” cried Mrs. Peterkin. “I do believe he asked everybody he saw!” And she hurried back to her guests.

“What if father really has asked everybody?” Elizabeth Eliza said to herself, pressing her head again with her hand.

There were the cow and the pig. But if they all took tea or coffee, or both, the cups could not go round.

Agamemnon returned in the midst of her agony.

He had not been able to count the guests, they moved about so, they talked so; and it would not look well to appear to count.

“What shall we do?” exclaimed Elizabeth Eliza.

“We are not a family for an emergency,” said Agamemnon.

“What do you suppose they did in Philadelphia at the Exhibition, when there were more people than cups and saucers?” asked Elizabeth Eliza. “Could not you go and inquire? I know the lady from Philadelphia is talking about the Exhibition, and telling how she stayed at home to receive friends. And they must have had trouble there! Could not you go in and ask, just as if you wanted to know?”

Agamemnon looked into the room, but there were too many talking with the lady from Philadelphia.

“If we could only look into some book,” he said,–“the encyclopaedia or the dictionary; they are such a help sometimes!”

At this moment he thought of his “Great Triumphs of Great Men,” that he was reading just now. He had not reached the lives of the Stephensons, or any of the men of modern times. He might skip over to them,–he knew they were men for emergencies.

He ran up to his room, and met Solomon John coming down with chairs.

“That is a good thought,” said Agamemnon. “I will bring down more upstairs chairs.”

“No,” said Solomon John, “here are all that can come down; the rest of the bedroom chairs match bureaus, and they never will do!”

Agamemnon kept on to his own room, to consult his books. If only he could invent something on the spur of the moment,–a set of bedroom furniture, that in an emergency could be turned into parlor chairs! It seemed an idea; and he sat himself down to his table and pencils, when he was interrupted by the little boys, who came to tell him that Elizabeth Eliza wanted him.

The little boys had been busy thinking. They proposed that the tea-table, with all the things on, should be pushed into the front room, where the company were; and those could take cups who could find cups.