in March, Mr. Reed came home
quite early, and carried his wife down into the dining-room. He had
asked the Deans over to tea, and Doctor Joe. And there was the table,
spick and span, the silver shining, the windows so clean you couldn't
see there was any glass in them, the curtains fresh, the tablecloth
ironed so that every flower and leaf in it stood out. There wasn't a
speck of dust anywhere!

The kitchen was in nice order; the range black and speckless, the
closets sweet with their fresh white paper. And Cousin Jane's bread and
biscuit were as good as anybody's, her ham tender and a luscious pink,
her two kinds of cake perfection.

Charles sat next to his mother, a tall, smiling boy with a clean collar
and his best roundabout. It was the first tea-party he ever remembered,
and he was delighted. He was so polite and watchful of his mother that
it really went to her heart.

For seven weeks the house had gone on without her, and she couldn't see
any change for the worse. Mr. Reed looked uncommonly well, and was a
very agreeable host. The Doctor complimented her, and said next week he
should come and take her out driving; and that, to do him real credit,
she must get some flesh on her bones.

It was a very pleasant time; and Charles was so happy that his mother
wondered if there wasn't something better in the world than work and
care.

CHAPTER VI

THE LAND OF OPHIR

Spring came on apace, and spring in New York had many beautiful features
then. The Battery, the Bowling Green, City Hall Park, with its fountain,
the College grounds, Trinity and St. Paul's churchyards, and the squares
coming into existence farther up-town. Trees and grass and flowers
delighted the eye, and lilacs made the air fragrant. All up the country
ways there were patches of wild honeysuckle,--pinxter flowers, as it was
called.

The little girl had so many things to distract her attention that she
wondered how grown-up people could be so tranquil with all their
knowledges and their cares. She began to realise the great difference in
tastes and characteristics, though she would not have quite comprehended
that long word. Perhaps Ben, being in the midst of stories and books,
and hearing so much talk about the great men of the day, roused the same
train of thought in her, though I think hero-worship came natural to
her. The Dean girls read the sweet pretty domestic stories with great
relish. Miss Macintosh, Mary Howitt, and even Jane A