On the evening of the 4th of July, Professor Valeyon and Cornelia got
into the wagon, and drove off, behind Dolly, to the boarding-house. It
was a warm, breathless night, and the stars looked brighter and more
numerous than usual.
The boarding-house was one of the largest buildings in town--an
accidental sort of structure, painted white, green-blinded, and
protected, from the two roads at whose intersection it stood, by a
white-washed board-fence, deficient in several places. The house
expanded into no less than four large bay-windows, affording an outlook
to three small rooms upon the ground-floor. The four or five other
larger apartments were forced to pass a gloomy existence behind a
loop-hole or two apiece, which could not have measured over three feet
in any direction.
The two largest rooms lay corner to corner, at right angles to one
another, and communicating by a passage-way through their point of
contact. Who the original genius was who discovered the admirable
facilities this else preposterous arrangement afforded for dances will
remain forever unknown; but the experiment once tried became an
institution as permanent as Abbie herself.
The small triangle of space between the two rooms, which to utilize had
theretofore been an unsolved problem, served admirably as a station for
the band; they could be heard in either apartment equally well. The
small boudoirs, nooks, and corners, which were scattered here and there
with lavish hand, did excellent duty as flirtation-boxes for those of
the dancers who needed that refreshment; the only drawback being that
one was never quite sure of privacy, on account of the complicated
system of doors and entries that prevailed.
But, in spite of all objections, a dance at Abbie's was the rallying-cry
of the community. All the respectable people in town put on their newest
clothes--and if they were new it did not so much matter what the style
might be--and thronged, on foot or in wagon, to the boarding-house door.
They came to have a good time, and they always succeeded in their
object. What pigeon-wings were performed! what polkas perpetrated! what
waltzes wrecked! How the long lines of the Virginia Reel, or "On the
Road to Boston," extended through the hall from end to end, and how the
couples twisted, whirled, and scooted between them! How the call-man,
with his violin under his chin, stopped playing to vociferate his
orders, or anathematize some bewildered pair! How the old folks, sitting
on chairs and benches along the walls, nodded and smiled and mumbled to
one another as the ruddy faces of their descendants passed and repassed
before them, and spoke to one another of like scenes thirty, or forty,
or fifty years ago! How happy everybody was, and what a jolly noise they
made!
As Cornelia and her papa approached the house, every window was alight,
above and below. The door was thrown hospitably open, and the lamplight
streamed forth and ran down the steps, and lay in a long rectangular
pool upon the road. Abbie stood near the entrance, directing the ladies
one way and the gentlemen another. Punctuality at an affair of this kind
being among the village virtues, the whole company was present within a
surprisingly short time of the appointed hour.