lk with her. She ran
back, reappearing again at the door, out of breath, and minus a shoe.
As we entered a small parlor, an old lady in a black dress, with
a deep cape, held out her withered hand, without rising from her
straight-backed arm-chair, smiling at us, but shaking her head
furiously at the small girl, who lingered in the door.

"Mari, Mari," she called, but no Mari came, and the small girl took
our shawls, for Mrs. Hepburn said we must stay, now that she had
inveigled us inside her doors. Ann mimicked her at her back, but to
her face behaved servilely. The name of Morgeson belonged to the early
historical time of New England, Mrs. Hepburn informed me. I never
knew it; but bowed, as if not ignorant. Old Mari must be consulted
respecting the sweetmeats, and she went after her.

"What an old mouser it is!" said Ann. "What unexpected ways she has!
She scours Belem in her velvet shoes, to find out everybody's history.
Don't you smell buttered toast?"

"Your father is getting the best of the gout," said Mrs. Hepburn,
returning. "How is Desmond? He may be the wickedest of you all, but
I like him the best. I shall not throw away praise of him on you,
Adelaide." And she looked at me.

"He bows well," I said.

"He resembles his mother, who was a great beauty. Mr. Somers was
handsome, too. I was at a ball at Governor Flam's thirty years ago.
Your mother was barely fifteen, then, Adelaide; she was just married,
and opened the ball."

She examined me all the while, with a pair of small, round eyes, from
which the color had faded, but which were capable of reading me.

Tea was served by candlelight, on a small table. Mrs. Hepburn kept
her eyes on everything, talking volubly, and pulled the small, girl's
ears, or pushed her by the shoulder, with faith that we were not
observing her. The toast was well buttered, the sweetmeats were
delicious, and the cake was heavenly, as Ann said. Mrs. Hepburn ate
little, but told us a great deal about marriages in prospect and
incomes which waxed or waned in consequence. When tea was over, she
said to the small girl who removed the tea things, "On your life taste
not of the cake or the sweetmeats; and bring me two sticks of wood,
you huzzy." She arranged the sticks on a decaying fire, inside a high
brass fender, pulled up a stand near the hearth, lighted two candles,
and placed on it a pack of cards.

"Some one may come, so that we can play."

Meantime she dozed upright, walking