The supper was brought in by Betsy, the stout servant-maid, who waited at table more skillfully than I would have expected from her appearance. The meal was abundant, and nicely cooked, and, as it was the first meal I ever ate in England, I remember it well. We had a fine pair of roasted fowls, boiled potatoes, light as meal (the very first, by the way, that I had ever seen, for they have never been very commonly used in France, and at that time were not known in our parts). Also, we had a great bowl of frumenty, or wheat boiled with milk, and a mountain of a brown loaf. I thought of our dear mothers and sisters in France, sitting down to their meal of coarse bread and milk, and not too much of that, and it gave me almost a guilty feeling. It seemed as if I had no right to the savory wing of fowl that Mrs. Thorpe put upon my plate, and the tears rose to my eyes in spite of me. Mrs. Thorpe noticed the change in my countenance, as, indeed, she always saw everything. "What is it, my dear? Anything wrong?" "No, madame," I answered, making a great effort to compose myself. And then, feeling that I owed her an explanation, I added in French, and in a low tone: "I was thinking of the mothers and sisters at St. Jean, and wishing they had my supper." "Bless your kind heart, Mrs. Lucy, I wish they had!" answered the good woman. "I am sure they should be heartily welcome to the best my house could afford, if they were only here, or I could send it to them. But do not let the thought spoil your supper, my dear. If those who give to the poor lend to the Lord, the good ladies have a fine estate out at interest into which they will come some day. Anne Thwaites, don't let me see you bend over to your meat in that way—you will be growing as crooked as a rams-horn before you are forty." Anne, a delicate looking girl, pulled herself up, blushing and smiling at the same time. So the meal proceeded with a little conversation, and now and then a remark addressed to the apprentice lasses, for so I found them to be. After all was cleared away, the servants—Betsy, the man who had brought up our trunks, and an elderly woman, whom Mrs. Thorpe addressed as Mrs. Crump, came in and took their seats. A large Bible and prayer-book were laid before Mrs. Thorpe; she read a chapter, and then a prayer in a reverent devout manner, all joining in the Lord's prayer at the end. If she had asked us to be present, I suppose we should have refused; but either because she thought it the more discreet way, or from sheer forgetfulness, she never said a word about it, but took our attendance for granted. The chapter was the beautiful story of the Shunamite, and that was the first word I ever heard out of the Old Testament, except indeed the Psalms, most of which I knew by heart. I observed that Rebecca Carter did not come in to family prayers, but remained in the shop, where also she had her supper. I concluded that this was one of the "ways" that Mrs. Thorpe had told us of.