“Mild and babyish-like, are they not? almost green with innocence.  But Charles has devilish eyes, don’t you think so?”

She turned with her mouth open in astonishment, and her hand full of candle-ends.  “Cassandra Morgeson, are you mad?”

“Good-by,” Alice.

I only saw Mr. Somers at prayers during the following fortnight.  But in that short time he made many acquaintances.  Helen told me that he had decided to study law with Judge Ryder, and that he had asked her how long I expected to stay in Rosville.  Nothing eccentric had been discovered in his behavior; but she was convinced that he would astonish us before long.  The first Wednesday after our party, I was absent from the elocutionary exercise; but the second came round, and I took my place as usual beside Helen.

“This will be Mr. Somers’s first and last appearance on our stage,” she whispered; “some whim prompts him to come to-day.”

He delighted Dr. Price by translating from the Agamemnon of AEschylus.

“Re-enter Clytemnestra.”

“Men!  Citizens! ye Elders of Argos present here.”

“Who was Agamemnon?” I whispered.

“He gave Cassandra her last ride.”

“Did he upset her?”

“Study Greek and you will know,” she replied, frowning at him as he stepped from the platform.

We went to walk in Silver Street after school, and he joined us.

“Do you read Greek?” he asked her.

“My father is a Greek Professor, and he made me study it when I was a little girl.”

“The name of Cassandra inspired me to rub up my knowledge of the tragedies.”

Helen and he had a Homeric talk, while I silently walked by them, thinking that Cassandra would have suited Veronica, and that no name suited me.  From some reason I did not discover, Helen began to loiter, pretending that she wanted to have a look at the clouds.  But when I looked back her head was bent to the ground.  Mr. Somers offered to carry my books.

“Carry Helen’s; she is smaller than I am.”

“Confound Helen!”

“And the books, too, if you like.  Helen,” I called, “why do you loiter?  It is time for dinner.  We must go home.”

“I am quite ready for my dinner,” she replied.  “Wont you come to our house this afternoon and take tea with me?”

“Oh, Miss Perkins, do invite me also,” he begged.  “I want to bring Tennyson to you.”

“Is he related to Agamemnon?” I asked.

“I’ll ask Mrs. Bancroft if I may invite you,” said Helen, “if you are sure that you would like a stupid, family tea.”

“I am positive that I should.  Tennyson, though an eminent Grecian, is not related to the person you spoke of.”

We parted at the foot of Silver Street, with the expectation of meeting before night.  Helen sent me word not to fail, as she had sent for Mr. Somers, and that Mrs. Bancroft was already preparing tea.  Alice drove down there with me, to call on Mrs. Bancroft.  The two ladies compared children, and by the time Alice was ready to go, Mr. Somers arrived.  She staid a few moments more to chat with him, and when she went at last, told me Charles would come for me on his way from the mills.