“Cassandra,” she spoke with haste, “did you experience any shadow of a change during the revival at Barmouth?”

“No more than the baby here did.”

“I shall have faith, though, that it will be well with you, because you have had the blessing of so good a man as your grand’ther.”

“But I never heard a word of grand’ther’s prayers.  Do you remember his voice?”

A smile crept into her blue eye, as she said:  “My hearing him, or not, would make no difference, since God could hear and answer.”

“Grand’ther does not like me; I never pleased him.”

She looked astonished, then reflective.  It occurred to her that she, also, had been no favorite of his.  She changed the subject.  We talked on what had happened in Surrey, and commenced a discussion on my wardrobe, when we were summoned to tea.  Temperance brought Arthur to the table half asleep, but he roused when she drummed on his plate with a spoon.  Hepsey was stationed by the bannock, knife in hand, to serve it.  As we began our meal, Veronica came in from the kitchen, with a plate of toasted crackers.  She set the plate down, and gravely shook hands with me, saying she had concluded to live entirely on toast, but supposed I would eat all sorts of food, as usual.  She had grown tall; her face was still long and narrow, but prettier, and her large, dark eyes had a slight cast, which gave her face an indescribable expression.  Distant, indifferent, and speculative as the eyes were, a ray of fire shot into them occasionally, which made her gaze powerful and concentrated.  I was within a month of sixteen, and Veronica was in her thirteenth year; but she looked as old as I did.  She carefully prepared her toast with milk and butter, and ate it in silence.  The plenty around me, the ease and independence, gave me a delightful sense of comfort.  The dishes were odd, some of china, some of delf, and were continually moved out of their places, for we helped ourselves, although Temperance stayed in the room, ostensibly as a waiter.  She was too much engaged in conversation to fulfill her duties that way.  I looked round the room; nothing had been added to it, except red damask curtains, which were out of keeping with the old chintz covers.  It was a delightful room, however; the blue sea glimmered between the curtains, and, turning my eyes toward it, my heart gave the leap which I had looked for.  I grew blithe as I saw it winking under the rays of the afternoon sun, and, clapping my hands, said I was glad to get home.  We left Veronica at the table, and mother resumed her conversation with me in a corner of the room.  Presently Temperance came in with Charles, bringing fresh plates.  As soon as they began their supper, Veronica asked Temperance how the fish tasted.

“Is it salt?”

“Middling.”

“How is the bannock?”

“Excellent.  I will say it for Hepsey that she hasn’t her beat as a cook; been at it long enough,” she added, in expiation of her praise.