"Why dost thou call me Henrietta?" she inquired. "Dost thou not know that thou art taking a great liberty? For I—I am a lady with a fortune, although it is but a small one, and thou art only a poor serving maid."
"In our community," replied Dinah, "we never call anyone except by the baptismal name. There is no Mrs., no Miss, no Mr. in our community. Now come; I have something nice for thy supper."
"Feel my tummy-tum," said Henrietta. "It is ever so empty. I hope thy supper will prove to be a true supper, large in quantity, rich in quality, and fit for a Christian maid."
"But, my dear, thou art not a Christian maid. Nevertheless, thy supper is sufficient. Come now to my room and eat."
Henrietta went. The supper was of the very best: Green peas, roast duck, new potatoes, a glass of milk, and some stewed peaches.
"Upon my word," said Henrietta, "I like thy calm ways, Dinah. I, too, will become a Quaker and say 'thee' and 'thou,' not because of spiritual guidance, but because the Quakers nourish their little tum-tums so well."
"Henrietta, thou must not speak like that."
"Dinah, thou art not to scold me. The woman here, called Faithful, said I was to be dealt gently with. Dost thou know, dear Dinah, that a dreadful trouble is coming on me?"
"Indeed, I fear it," said Dinah.
"Oh, I don't mean about Dysy—poor little snippet! I mean something far worse."