nd left us by the
parlor fire. Adelaide lighted a candle, and took a novel, which she
read reclining on a sofa. Reclining on sofas, I discovered, was a
family trait, though they were all in a state of the most robust
health, with the exception of Mr. Somers. I walked up and down the
rooms. "They were fine once," said Ben, who appeared from a dark
corner, "but faded now. Mother never changes anything if she can
help it. She is a terrible aristocrat," he continued, in a low voice,
"fixed in the ideas imbedded in the Belem institutions, which only
move backward. We laugh, though, at everybody's claims but our own.
You despised me for mentioning the Hiticutts' income; it was the
atmosphere."

"It amuses me to be here."

"Of course; but stir up Adelaide, she is genuine; has fine sense, and
half despises her life; but she knows no other, and is proud."

"Let's go and find tea," she said, yawning, dropping her book. "Why
don't that lazy Murph light the lamp? I wish pa was down to regulate
affairs." No one was at the tea-table but Mrs. Somers.

"Ben is very polite, don't you think so?" she said with her peculiar
laugh, which made my flesh creep, as he pulled up a chair for me. Her
voice made me dizzy, but I smiled. Ben was not the same in Belem,
I saw at once, and no longer wondered at its influence, or at the
vacillating nature of his plans and pursuits. Mrs. Somers gave me
some tea from a spider-shaped silver tea-pot, which was related to a
spider-shaped cream-jug and a spider-shaped sugar-dish. The polished
surface of the mahogany table reflected a pair of tall silver
candlesticks, and the plates, being of warped blue and white Chinese
ware, joggled and clattered when we touched them. The tea was
delicious; I said so, but Mrs. Somers deigned no answer. We were
regaled with spread bread and butter and baked apples. Adelaide ate
six.

"We do not have your Surrey suppers," Ben remarked.

"How should you know?" his mother asked. Ben's eyes looked violent
and he bit his lips. Adelaide commenced speaking before her mother had
finished her question, as if she only needed the spur of her voice to
be lively and agreeable, _per contra_.

"Hepburn must ask us to tea. Her jam and her gossip are wonderful.
Aunt Tucker might ask us too, with housekeeper Beck's permission. I
like tea fights with the old Hindoos. They like us too, Ben; we are
the children of Hindoos also--superior to the rest of the world. There
will be a party or