“'What's that?' he asked.
“'Oh, it's—it's only,' said I, seeking for a synonyme, 'only chloride of sodium!'
“'Chloride of sodium! what do you do with it?'
“'Eat it with onions,' said I, boldly: 'it's a chemical substance, but I believe it is found in some plants.'
“Eunice, who knew something of chemistry (she taught a class, though you wouldn't think it), grew red with suppressed fun, but the others were as ignorant as Abel Mallory himself.
“'Let me taste it,' said he, stretching out an onion.
“I handed him the box-lid, which still contained a portion of its contents. He dipped the onion, bit off a piece, and chewed it gravely.
“'Why,' said he, turning to me, 'it's very much like salt.'
“Perkins burst into a spluttering yell, which discharged an onion-top he had just put between his teeth across the table; Eunice and I gave way at the same moment; and the others, catching the joke, joined us. But while we were laughing, Abel was finishing his onion, and the result was that Salt was added to the True Food, and thereafter appeared regularly on the table.
“The forenoons we usually spent in reading and writing, each in his or her chamber. (Oh, the journals, Ned!—but you shall not see mine.) After a midday meal,—I cannot call it dinner,—we sat upon the stoop, listening while one of us read aloud, or strolled down the shores on either side, or, when the sun was not too warm, got into a boat, and rowed or floated lazily around the promontory.