"I'll ask Mrs. Bancroft if I may invite you," said Helen, "if you are sure that you would like a stupid, family tea." "I am positive that I should. Tennyson, though an eminent Grecian, is not related to the person you spoke of." We parted at the foot of Silver Street, with the expectation of meeting before night. Helen sent me word not to fail, as she had sent for Mr. Somers, and that Mrs. Bancroft was already preparing tea. Alice drove down there with me, to call on Mrs. Bancroft. The two ladies compared children, and by the time Alice was ready to go, Mr. Somers arrived. She staid a few moments more to chat with him, and when she went at last, told me Charles would come for me on his way from the mills. My eyes wandered in the direction of Mr. Somers. His said: "No; go home with _me_." "Very well, Alice, whatever is convenient," I answered quietly. Mrs. Bancroft was a motherly woman, and Mr. Bancroft was a fatherly man. Five children sat round the tea-table, distinguished by the Bancroft nose. Helen and I were seated each side of Mr. Somers. The table reminded me of our table at Surrey, it was so covered with vast viands; but the dishes were alike, and handsome. I wondered whether mother had bought the new china in Boston, and, buttering my second hot biscuit, I thought of Veronica; then, of the sea. How did it look? Hark! Its voice was in my ear! Could I climb the housetop? Might I not see the mist which hung over our low-lying sea by Surrey? "Will you take quince or apple jelly, Miss Morgeson?" asked Mrs. Bancroft. "Apple, if you please." "Do you write that sister of yours often?" asked Mr. Somers, as he passed me the apple jelly. "I never write her." "Will you tell me something of Surrey?" "Mr. Somers, shall I give you a cup-custard?" "No, thank you, mam." "Surrey is lonely, evangelical, primitive." "Belem is dreary too; most of it goes to Boston, or to India." "Does it smell of sandal wood? And has everybody tea-caddies? _Vide_ Indian stories." "We have a crate of queer things from Calcutta." "Are you going to study law with Judge Ryder?" Mr. Bancroft inquired. "I think so." Then Helen pushed back her chair; and Mrs. Bancroft stood in her place long enough for us to reach the parlor door. "And I must go to the office," Mr. Bancroft said, so we had the parlor to ourselves; but Mr. Somers did not read from Tennyson--for he had forgotten to bring the book. "Now for a compact," he said. "I must be called Ben Somers by you; and may I call you Cassandra, and Helen?" "Yes," we answered. "Let us be confidential."