was eating it, Grandfather John Morgeson bustled in. As he shook hands
with me, I saw that his hair had whitened; he held a tasseled cane
between his knees, and thumped the floor whenever he asked a question.
Mr. Park buzzed about the last Sunday's discourse, and mother listened
with a vague, respectful attention. Her hand was pressed against her
breast, as if she were repressing an inward voice which claimed her
attention. Leaning her head against her chair, she had quite pushed
out her comb, her hair dropped on her shoulder, and looked like a
brown, coiled serpent. Veronica, who had been silently observing her,
rose from the sofa, picked up the comb, and fastened her hair, without
speaking. As she passed she gave me a dark look.

"Eh, Verry," said father, "are you there? Were you glad to see Cassy
home again?"

"Should I be glad? What can _she_ do?"

Grandfather pursed up his mouth, and turned toward mother, as if he
would like to say: "You understand bringing up children, don't you?"

She comprehended him, and, giving her head a slight toss, told Verry
to go and play on the piano.

"I was going," she answered pettishly, and darting out a moment after
we heard her.

Grandfather went, and presently Mr. Park got up in a lingering way,
said that Verry must learn to play for the Lord, and bade us "Good
night." But he came back again, to ask me if I would join Dr. Snell's
Bible Class. It would meet the next evening; the boys and girls of my