“Well, as I was saying, the Governor wanted to give a breakfast to the French officers, and Madam, who was a hospitable soul, got up a splendid one for them. But by some mistake, or accident, it was discovered at the last minute that there was no milk.
“A great deal was needed, and very little could be bought or borrowed, so despair fell upon the cooks and maids, and the great breakfast would have been a failure, if Madam, with the presence of mind of her sex, had not suddenly bethought herself of the cows feeding on the common.
“To be sure, they belonged to her neighbours, and there was no time to ask leave, but it was a national affair; our allies must be fed; and feeling sure that her patriotic friends would gladly lay their cows on the altar of their country, Madam Hancock covered herself with glory, by calmly issuing the command, ‘Milk ’em!’
“It was done, to the great astonishment of the cows, and the entire satisfaction of the guests, among whom was Lafayette.
“This milking feat was such a good joke, that no one seems to have remembered much about the great man, though one of his officers, a count, signalized himself by getting very tipsy, and going to bed with his boots and spurs on,—which caused the destruction of aunt’s best yellow damask coverlet, for the restless sleeper kicked it into rags by morning.
“Aunt valued it very much, even in its tattered condition, and kept it a long while, as a memorial of her distinguished guests.
“The time when I saw Lafayette was in 1825, and there were no tipsy counts then. Uncle Hancock (a sweet man, my dears, though some call him mean nowadays) 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 toilette, and was as anxious to look well as any girl.”
“What did she wear?” asked Fan, with interest.
“She wore a steel-coloured 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 parlour sophy, right under a great portrait of her first husband; and on each 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 nowadays”—
“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.