She was fresh and young and hopeful . The mother 's heart contracted in a spasm of pain as she looked at her . How like the girl was to -- to -- to the Spencers ! Those easy , curving outlines , those large , mirthful blue eyes , that finely molded chin ! Isabella Spencer shut her lips firmly and crushed down some unbidden , unwelcome memories . `` There will be about sixty guests , all told , '' she said , as if she were thinking of nothing else . `` We must move the furniture out of this room and set the supper-table here . The dining-room is too small . We must borrow Mrs. Bell 's forks and spoons . She offered to lend them . I 'd never have been willing to ask her . The damask table cloths with the ribbon pattern must be bleached to-morrow . Nobody else in Avonlea has such tablecloths . And we 'll put the little dining-room table on the hall landing , upstairs , for the presents . '' Rachel was not thinking about the presents , or the housewifely details of the wedding . Her breath was coming quicker , and the faint blush on her smooth cheeks had deepened to crimson . She knew that a critical moment was approaching . With a steady hand she wrote the last name on her list and drew a line under it . `` Well , have you finished ? '' asked her mother impatiently .
`` Hand it here and let me look over it to make sure that you have n't left anybody out that should be XXXXX . ''
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