Father took me into a parlor, where sat a handsome, fat woman, hemming towels.
"Is that you, Morgeson ?" she said.

"Is this your daughter ?" "Yes; can I leave her with you, while I go to the bank?
She has not been here before." "Lord ha' mercy on us; you clip her wings, don't you?
Come here, child, and let me pull off your pelisse." I went to her with a haughty air; it did not please me to hear my father called "Morgeson," by a person unknown to me.

She understood my expression, and looked up at father; they both smiled, and I was vexed with him for his unwarrantable familiarity.

Pinching my cheek with her fat fingers, which were covered with red and green rings, she said, "We shall do very well together.

What a pretty silk pelisse, and silver buckles, too." After father went out, and my bonnet was disposed of, Mrs.Tabor gave me a huge piece of delicious sponge-cake, which softened me somewhat.
"What is your name, dear ?" "Morgeson." "It is easy to see that." "Well, Cassandra." "Oh, what a lovely name," and she drew from her workbasket a paper-covered book; "there is no name in this novel half so pretty; I wish the heroine's name had been Cassandra instead of Aldebrante." "Let me see it," I begged.
"There is a horrid monk in it"; but she gave it to me, and was presently called out.