Veronica sat down by her, and offered her some sugar-plums, which the child snatched from her hand.

“We are missionaries,” said the oldest boy, “and we are going to Bombay next week in the Cabot.  I’ll make the natives gee, I tell ye.”

“Mercy on us!” exclaimed Temperance, “did you ever?”

Presently a sickly, gentle-looking man entered, in a suit of black camlet, and carrying an umbrella; he took a seat by the children, and ran his fingers through his hair, which already stood upright.

“That girl gave Sis some sugar-plums,” remarked the boy.

“I hope you thanked her, Clarissa,” said the father.

“No; she didn’t give me enough,” the child answered.

“They have no mother,” the poor man said apologetically to Veronica, looking up at her, and, as he caught her eye, blushing deeply.  She bowed, and moved away.  Mother rang the bell, and when the waiter came gave him a note for Mr. Shepherd, which father had written, bespeaking his attention.  Mr. Shepherd soon appeared, and conveyed us to two pleasant rooms with an unmitigated view of the wall of the next house from the windows.

“This,” remarked Temperance, “is worse than the pond.”

Mr. Shepherd complimented mother on her fine daughters; hoped Mr. Morgeson would run for Congress soon told her she should have the best the house afforded, and retired.

I wanted to shop, and mother gave me money.  I found Washington Street, and bought six wide, embroidered belts, a gilt buckle, a variety of ribbons, and a dozen yards of lace.  I repented the whole before I got back; for I saw other articles I wanted more.  I found mother alone; Temperance had gone out with Veronica, she said, and she had given Veronica the same amount of money, curious to know how she would spend it, as she had never been shopping.  It was nearly dark when they returned.

“I like Boston,” said Verry.

“But what have you bought?”

She displayed a beautiful gold chain, and a little cross for the throat; a bundle of picture-books for the missionary children; a sewing-silk shawl for Hepsey, and some toys for Arthur.

“To-morrow, I shall go shopping,” said mother.  “What did you buy, Temperance?”

“A mean shawl.  In my opinion, Boston is a den of thieves.”

She untied a box, from which she took a sky-blue silk shawl, with brown flowers woven in it.

“I gave eighteen dollars for it, if I gave a cent, Mis Morgeson; I know I am cheated.  It’s sleazy, isn’t it?”

The bell for tea rang, and Mr. Shepherd came up to escort us to the table.  Temperance delayed us, to tie on a silk apron, to protect the plum-colored silk, for, as she observed to Mr. Shepherd, she was afraid it would show grease badly.  I could not help exchanging smiles with Mr. Shepherd, which made Veronica frown.  The whole table stared as we seated ourselves, for we derived an importance from the fact that we were under the personal charge of the landlord.