Six o'clock was the almost universal hour for supper amongst the
well-to-do classes, both gentle and simple, and Martin Holt's
family sat down to the well-spread board punctually to the minute
every day of their lives. But though there was no eating before
that hour, the invited guests who were intimate at the house
generally arrived about dusk, and were served with hot ginger wine
with lumps of butter floating in it, or some similar concoction
accounted a delicacy in those days of coarse feeding, and indulged
in discussion and conversation which was the preliminary to the
serious business of supper.

At four o'clock, then, Mistress Susan's table was set, the homespun
cloth of excellent texture and whiteness spread upon the board,
which was further adorned by plates and tankards, knives and even
forks, though these last-named articles were quite a novelty, and
rather lightly esteemed by Mistress Susan, who was a rigid
conservative in all domestic matters. All the cold provisions had
been laid upon the table. The serving woman in the kitchen had
received full instruction as to those that remained in or about the
stove. The ladies had doffed their big aprons, and had donned their
Sunday coifs and kerchiefs and better gowns, and were now assembled
in the upper parlour, where the spinning wheels stood, ready to
receive the guests when they should come.

Cherry's absence had not yet excited any uneasiness, although her
aunt had made one or two severe remarks as to her love for
junketing abroad, and frivolity in general. Her sisters had laid
out her dress in readiness for her, and had taken her part with
their accustomed warmth and goodwill. They were not at all afraid
of her not turning up safe and sound. Cherry had many friends, and