as the cookery so exquisite? I own frankly
that I am not a trustworthy witness; but if my oath could be taken, I
am willing to swear that I believe there never were such salmon-steaks,
such a pigeon-pie, and such a damson-tart served to mortals as these.
My enthusiasm, I suspect, must have betrayed itself in some outward
manifestation, for I remember Crofton laughingly having remarked,--

"You will turn my sister's head, Mr. Potts, by such flatteries; all the
more, since her cookery is self-taught."

"Don't believe him, Mr. Potts; I have studied all the great masters of
the art, and you shall have an omelette to-morrow for breakfast, Brillat
Savarin himself would not despise."

I blushed at the offer of an hospitality so neatly and delicately
insinuated, and had really no words to acknowledge it, nor was my
confusion unfavorably judged by my hosts. Crofton marked it quickly, and
said,--

"Yes, Mr. Potts, and I 'll teach you to hook a trout afterwards.
Meanwhile let us have a glass of Sauterne together; we drink it out of
green glasses, to cheat ourselves into the fancy that it's Rhenish."

"'Am Rhein, am Rhein, da wachsen unsere Reben,'" said I, quoting the
students' song.

"Oh, have you been in Germany?" cried she, eagerly.

"Alas! no," said I. "I have never travelled." I thought she looked
disappointed as I said this. Indeed, I already wished it unsaid; but her
brother broke in with,--

"We are regular vagabonds, Mr. Potts. My sister and myself have had
a restless paroxysm for the last three years of life; and what with
seeking cool spots for the summer and hot climates for winter, we are
scarcely ever off the road."

"Like the gentleman, I suppose, who ate oysters for appetite, but
carried his system so far as to induce indigestion." My joke failed;
nobody laughed, and I was overwhelmed with confusion, which I was fain
to bury in my strawberries and cream.

"Let us have a little music, Mary," said Crofton. "Do you play or sing,
Mr. Potts?"

"Neither. I do nothing," cried I, in despair. "As Sydney Smith says, 'I
know something about the Romans,' but, for any gift or grace which
could adorn society, or make time pass more pleasantly, I am an utter
bankrupt."

The young girl had, while I was speaking, taken her place at the
pianoforte, and was half listlessly suffering her hands to fall in
chords over the instrument.

"Come out upon this terrace, here," cried Crofton to me, "and we 'll
have our cigar.