across; he raised his hand as if to salute us, and I noticed that it was remarkably handsome, small and white, and ornamented with an old-fashioned ring.  It was our habit, after the exercises were over, to gather round Dr. Price, to exchange a few words with him.  And this occasion was no exception, for Dr. Price, with his double spectacles, and his silk handkerchief in his hand, was answering our questions, when feeling a touch, he stopped, turned hastily, and saw the stranger.

“Will you be so good as to introduce me to the two young ladies near you?  We have met before, but I do not know their names.”

“Ah,” said the Doctor, taking off his spectacles and wiping them leisurely; then raising his voice, said, “Miss Cassandra Morgeson and Miss Helen Perkins, Mr. Ben Somers, of Belem, requests me to present him to you.  I add the information that he is, although a senior, suspended from Harvard College, for participating in a disgraceful fight.  It is at your option to notice him.”

“If he would be kind enough,” said Mr. Somers, moving toward us, “to say that I won it.”

“With such hands?” I asked.

“Oh, Somers,” interposed the Doctor, “have you much knowledge of the Bellevue Pickersgills’ pedigree?”

“Certainly; my grandpa, Desmond Pickersgill, although he came to this country as a cabin boy, was brother to an English earl.  This is our coat of arms,” showing the ring he wore.

“That is a great fact,” answered the Doctor.

“This lad,” addressing me, “belongs to the family I spoke of to you, a member of which married one of your name.”

“Is it possible?  I never heard much of my father’s family.”

“No,” said the Doctor dryly; “Somers has no coat of arms.  I expected, when I asked you, to hear that the Pickergills’ history was at your fingers’ ends.”

“Only above the second joint of the third finger of my left hand.”

I thought Dr. Price was embarrassing.

“Is your family from Troy?” Mr. Somers asked me, in a low tone.

“Do you dislike my name?  Is that of Veronica a better one?  It is my sister’s, and we were named by our great-grandfather, who married a Somers, a hundred years ago.”

Miss Black, my Barmouth teacher, came into my mind, for I had said the same thing to her in my first interview; but I was recalled from my wandering by Mr. Somers asking, “Are you looking for your sister?  Far be it from me to disparage any act of your great-grandfather’s, but I prefer the name of Veronica, and fancy that the person to whom the name belongs has a narrow face, with eyes near together, and a quantity of light hair, which falls straight; that she has long hands; is fond of Gothic architecture, and has a will of her own.”

“But never dances,” said Helen.

There was a whist party at somebody’s house every Wednesday evening.  Alice had selected the present for one, and had invited more than the usual number.  I asked Mr. Somers to come.