It was November when we returned from Boston.

One morning when the frost sparkled on the dead leaves, which still dropped on the walks, Helen Perkins and I were taking a stroll down Silver Street, behind the Academy, when we saw Dr.White coming down the street in his sulky, rocking from side to side like a cradle.

He stopped when he came up to us.
"Do ye sit up late of evenings, Miss Morgeson ?" "No, Doctor; only once a week or so." "You are a case." And he meditatively pulled his shaggy whiskers with a loose buckskin glove.

"There's a ripple coming under your eyes already; what did I tell you?
Let me see, did you say you were like father or mother ?" "I look like my father.

By the way, Doctor, I am studying my temperament.