a picture than Arethusa had ever known such an ordinary thing as a
dining-table to present. And all around the room were more roses, in
bowls and tall vases, until it seemed a veritable bower of them, dimly
lighted away from the candle glow by shaded sconces against the walls.

Arethusa drew a deep, sharp breath of ecstasy at all this loveliness.
She did not want to sit down in the chair George held for her at first,
but just to stand and look, and look. At home, they ate at night under
an oil lamp hanging by chains from the ceiling, and the supper table at
the Farm had never, in all its existence as a supper table, been a
fairy scene such as this. But Ross and Elinor were sitting down, and so
almost unconsciously Arethusa slid into her own chair, still admiring.

She examined the silver articles at her place with interest. There
seemed to be so many for only one person. Why did they put all their
silver on the table this way at once? For it surely looked to Arethusa
as if that was what had been done. It was very pretty, she admitted,
but seemed curious. She made no audible comment, however, remembering
that Miss Eliza had said that it was most ill-bred audibly to remark
anything as curious seen in another person's house. Their ways might be
strangely different, but it was never the part of a lady to allude to
the fact.

Arethusa's bouillon gave her no real trouble. It had a familiar
appearance and one ate soup with a spoon, even at the Farm. She
selected the spoon among that brave array that invited selection spread
so accommodatingly before her, which seemed to her to best fit the cup
in size; and conscious now of the lack of that lunch she could not eat,
for she was very hungry, she ate every bit of this first course with
relish, even lifting the cup as she noticed Elinor do once very
daintily, to drain it of its last drop. She longed for more, but it is
never polite to ask for a second helping, when a guest.

The bouillon drunk, and the gold and white cups removed, came George
bearing a large silver platter whereon reposed what Arethusa at first
thought to be flowers of some description. But it seemed queer to cook
flowers and serve them for food, as they seemed to be intended.

Arethusa did not like the appearance of those strange, spiky,
dark-green things, and it made it very easy to remember one of Miss
Eliza's earliest lessons that something must be left for the servants
in the kitchen, and never to take ev