'No! they are not,' said I. 'They are eggs. What do you mean by
saying they are potatoes?'

'What do you mean by asking me what they were, when they were
plain to be seen?' retorted she.

We were both getting a little angry with each other.

'I don't know. I wanted to begin to talk to you; and I was afraid
you would talk to me about books as you did yesterday. I have not
read much; and you and the minister have read so much.'

'I have not,' said she. 'But you are our guest; and mother says I
must make it pleasant to you. We won't talk of books. What must
we talk about?'

'I don't know. How old are you?'

'Seventeen last May. How old are you?'

'I am nineteen. Older than you by nearly two years,' said I,
drawing myself up to my full height.

'I should not have thought you were above sixteen,' she replied,
as quietly as if she were not saying the most provoking thing she
possibly could. Then came a pause.

'What are you going to do now?' asked I.

'I should be dusting the bed-chambers; but mother said I had