As soon as the visitors had gone, she said in a loud voice: "Cassandra Morgeson, take your books and go home.

You shall not come here another day." I was glad to go, and marched home with the air of a conqueror, going to the keeping-room where mother sat with a basket of sewing.

I saw Temperance Tinkham, the help, a maiden of thirty, laying the table for supper.
"Don't wrinkle the tablecloth," she said crossly; "and hang up your bonnet in the entry, where it belongs," taking it from me as she gave the order, and going out to hang it up herself.
"I am turned out of school, mother, for pushing a board with my foot." "Hi," said father, who was waiting for his supper; "come here," and he whistled to me.

He took me on his knee, while mother looked at me with doubt and sorrow.
"She is almost a woman, Mary." "Locke, do you know that I am thirty-eight ?" "And you are thirty-three, father," I exclaimed.

He looked younger.
I thought him handsome; he had a frank, firm face, an abundance of light, curly hair, and was very robust.