COUSIN PHILLIS. 35
basin of bread and milk was put on the oven-top to await my coming down. Every one was gone about their work. The first to come into the house-place was Phillis with a basket of eggs. Faithful to my resolution, I asked —
"What are those?"
She looked at me for a moment, and then said gravely—
"Potatoes!"
"No! they are not," said I. "They are eggs. What do you mean by saying they are potatoes?"
"What do you mean by asking me what they were, when they were plain to be seen?" retorted she.
We were both getting a little angry with each other.
"I don't know. I wanted to begin to talk to you; and I was afraid you would talk to me about books as you did yesterday. I have not read much; and you and the minister have read so much."
"I have not," said she. "But you are our guest; and mother says I must make it pleasant to you. We won't talk of books. What must we talk about?"
"I don't know. How old are you?"
"Seventeen last May. How old are you?"
"I am nineteen. Older than you by nearly two years," said I, drawing myself up to my full height.
"I should not have thought you were above sixteen," she replied, as quietly as if she were not saying the most provoking thing she possibly could. Then came a pause.
"What are you going to do now?" asked I.
"I should be dusting the bed-chambers; but mother said I had better stay and make it pleasant to you,"
