pot under a satin cozy, a silver cream-jug, a plate of delicate
bread-and-butter, and one of fruit-cake.

"You will have a cup of tea, will you not, dear?" said Aunt Camilla.

"If you please; thank you, ma'am," replied Lucina, striving to look
decorously pleased and not too delighted at the prospect of the
fruit-cake. Tea and bread-and-butter presented small attractions to
her, but she did love old 'Liza's fruit-cake, made after a famous
receipt which had been in the Merritt family for generations.

Miss Camilla removed the cozy and began pouring the tea. Lucina took
a napkin, being so bidden, spread it daintily over her lap, and
tucked a corner in her neck. The feast was about to commence, when a
loud, jovial voice was heard in the direction of the house:

"Camilla! Camilla! Lucina, where are you all?"

"That's father!" cried Lucina, brightening, and immediately Squire
Eben Merritt came striding down between the box-ridges, and Jerome
Edwards was at his heels.

"Well, how are you, sister?" Squire Eben cried, merrily; and in the
same breath, "I have brought another guest to your tea-drinking,
sister."

Jerome bobbed his head, half with defiant dignity, half in utter
shyness and confusion at the sight of this fine, genteel lady and her
wonderful tea equipage. But Miss Camilla, having welcomed her brother
with gentle warmth, greeted this little poor Jerome with as sweet a
courtesy as if he had been the Governor, and bade Lucina run to the
house and ask 'Liza to fetch two more cups and saucers and two
plates, and motioned both her guests to be seated on the arbor bench.

Squire Eben laughed, and glanced at his great mud-splashed boots, his
buckskin, his fishing-tackle, and a fine string of spotted trout
which he bore. "A pretty knight for a lady's bower I am!" said he.

"A lady never judges a knight by his outward guise," returned
Camilla, with soft pleasantry. She adored her brother.

Eben laughed, deposited his fish and tackle on the bench near the
door, and flung himself down opposite them, at a respectful distance
from his sister's silken flounces, with a sigh of comfort. "I have
had a hard tramp, and would like a cup of your tea," he admitted.
"I've been lucky, though. 'Twas a fine day for trout, though I would
not have thought it. I will leave you some for your breakfast,
sister; have 'Liza fry them brown in Indian meal."

Then, following Miss Camilla's remonstrating glance, he saw little
Jerome Edwards