The table reminded me of our table at Surrey, it was so covered with vast viands; but the dishes were alike, and handsome.

I wondered whether mother had bought the new china in Boston, and, buttering my second hot biscuit, I thought of Veronica; then, of the sea.

How did it look?
Hark! Its voice was in my ear! Could I climb the housetop?
Might I not see the mist which hung over our low-lying sea by Surrey?
"Will you take quince or apple jelly, Miss Morgeson ?" asked Mrs.
Bancroft.
"Apple, if you please." "Do you write that sister of yours often ?" asked Mr.Somers, as he passed me the apple jelly.
"I never write her." "Will you tell me something of Surrey ?" "Mr.Somers, shall I give you a cup-custard ?" "No, thank you, mam." "Surrey is lonely, evangelical, primitive." "Belem is dreary too; most of it goes to Boston, or to India." "Does it smell of sandal wood?
And has everybody tea-caddies?
_Vide_ Indian stories." "We have a crate of queer things from Calcutta." "Are you going to study law with Judge Ryder ?" Mr.Bancroft inquired.
"I think so." Then Helen pushed back her chair; and Mrs.Bancroft stood in her place long enough for us to reach the parlor door.
"And I must go to the office," Mr.Bancroft said, so we had the parlor to ourselves; but Mr.Somers did not read from Tennyson--for he had forgotten to bring the book.
"Now for a compact," he said.

"I must be called Ben Somers by you; and may I call you Cassandra, and Helen ?" "Yes," we answered.
"Let us be confidential." And we were.

I was drawn into speaking of my life at home; my remarks, made without premeditation, proved that I possessed ideas and feelings hitherto unknown.