The tables had been set in a back room, the meats were ready, the pickles were displayed, the cake was baked, the blanc-mange had stiffened, and the ice-cream had frozen.
At half past seven o'clock, the Colonel, in costume, came into the front parlor, and proceeded to light the lamps.

Some were good-humored enough and took the hint of a lighted match at once.

Others were as vicious as they could be,--would not light on any terms, any more than if they were filled with water, or lighted and smoked one side of the chimney, or spattered a few sparks and sulked themselves out, or kept up a faint show of burning, so that their ground glasses looked as feebly phosphorescent as so many invalid fireflies.

With much coaxing and screwing and pricking, a tolerable illumination was at last achieved.
At eight there was a grand rustling of silks, and Mrs.and Miss Sprowle descended from their respective bowers or boudoirs.

Of course they were pretty well tired by this time, and very glad to sit down,--having the prospect before them of being obliged to stand for hours.