"With superfluity of breeding
First makes you sick, and then with feeding."
JENYNS.
Miss Anastasia was a little surprised and a good deal
gratified, Fleda saw, by her coming, and played the hostess
with great benignity. The quilting-frame was stretched in an
upper room, not in the long kitchen, to Fleda's joy; most of
the company were already seated at it, and she had to go
through a long string of introductions before she was
permitted to take her place. First of all, Earl Douglass's
wife, who rose up, and taking both Fleda's hands, squeezed and
shook them heartily, giving her, with eye and lip, a most
genial welcome. This lady had every look of being a very
clever woman "a manager," she was said to be; and, indeed,
her very nose had a little pinch, which prepared one for
nothing superfluous about her. Even her dress could not have
wanted another breadth from the skirt, and had no fullness to
spare about the body neat as a pin, though; and a well-to-do
look through it all. Miss Quackenboss Fleda recognised as an
old friend, gilt beads and all. Catherine Douglass had grown
up to a pretty girl during the five years since Fleda had left
Queechy, and gave her a greeting, half-smiling, half-shy.
There was a little more affluence about the flow of her
drapery, and the pink ribbon round her neck was confined by a
little dainty Jew's-harp of a brooch; she had her mother's
pinch of the nose too. Then there were two other young ladies
Miss Letitia Ann Thornton, a tall-grown girl in pantalettes,
evidently a would-be aristocrat, from the air of her head and
lip, with a well-looking face, and looking well knowing of the
same, and sporting neat little white cuffs at her wrists the
only one who bore such a distinction. The third of these
damsels, Jessie Healy, impressed Fleda with having been
brought up upon coarse meat, and having grown heavy in
consequence; the other two were extremely fair and delicate,
both in complexion and feature. Her aunt Syra, Fleda
recognised without particular pleasure, and managed to seat
herself at the quilt with the sewing-woman and Miss Hannah
between them. Miss Lucy Finn she found seated at her right
hand, but after all the civilities she had just gone through,
Fleda had not courage just then to dash into business with
her, and Miss Lucy herself stitched away, and was dumb.
So were the rest of the party rather. The presence of the
new comer seemed to have the effect of a spell. Fleda could
not think they had been as silent before her joining them, as
they were for some time afterwards. The young ladies were
absolutely mute, and conversation seemed to flag even among
the elder ones; and if Fleda ever raised her eyes from the
quilt to look at somebody, she was sure to see somebody's eyes
looking at her, with a curiosity well enough defined, and
mixed with a more or less amount of benevolence and pleasure.
Fleda was growing very industrious and feeling her cheeks grow
warm, when the checked stream of conversation began to take
revenge by turning its tide upon her.
"Are you glad to be back to Queechy, Fleda?" said Mrs.
Douglass, from the opposite far end of the quilt.
"Yes Ma'am," said Fleda, smiling back her answer "on some
accounts."
"Ain't she growed like her father, Mis' Douglass?" said the
sewing-woman. "Do you recollect Walter Ringgan? What a
handsome feller he was!"
The two opposite girls immediately found something to say to
each other.
"She aint a bit more like him than she is like her mother,"
said Mrs. Douglass, biting off the end of her thread
energetically. "Amy Ringgan was a sweet good woman as ever was
in this town."
Again her daughter's glance and smile went over to the
speaker.
"You stay in Queechy, and live like Queechy folks do," Mrs.
Douglass added, nodding encouragingly, "and you'll beat both
on 'em."
But this speech jarred, and Fleda wished it had not been
spoken.
"How does your uncle like farming?" said aunt Syra.
A home thrust, which Fleda parried by saying he had hardly got
accustomed to it yet.
"What's been his business? what has he been doing all his life
till now?" said the sewing-woman.
Fleda replied that he had had no business; and after the minds
of the company had had time to entertain this statement, she
was startled by Miss Lucy's voice at her elbow.
"It seems kind o' curious, don't it, that a man should live to
be forty or fifty years old, and not know anything of the
earth he gets his bread from?"
"What makes you think he don't?" said Miss Thornton, rather
tartly.
"She wa'n't speaking o' nobody," said aunt Syra.
"I was I was speaking of man I was speaking abstractly,"
said Fleda's right-hand neighbour.
"What's abstractly?" said Miss Anastasia, scornfully.
"Where do you get hold of such hard words, Lucy?" said Mrs.
Douglass.
"I don't know, Mis' Douglass, they come to me; it's practice,
I suppose. I had no intention of being obscure."
"One kind o' word 's as easy as another, I suppose, when
you're used to it, aint it?" said the sewing-woman.
"What's abstractly?" said the mistress of the house, again.
"Look in the dictionary, if you want to know," said her
sister.
"I don't want to know I only want you to tell."
"When do you get time for it, Lucy? ha'n't you nothing else to
practise?" pursued Mrs. Douglass.
"Yes, Mis' Douglass; but then there are times for exertion,
and other times less disposable; and when I feel thoughtful or
low, I commonly retire to my room, and contemplate the stars,
or write a composition."
The sewing-woman greeted this speech with an unqualified ha!
ha! and Fleda involuntarily raised her head to look at the
last speaker; but there was nothing to be noticed about her,
except that she was in rather nicer order than the rest of the
Finn family.
"Did you get home safe last night?" inquired Miss Quackenboss,
bending forward over the quilt to look down to Fleda.
Fleda thanked her, and replied that they had been overturned,
and had several ribs broken.
"And where have you been, Fleda, all this while?" said Mrs.
Douglass.
Fleda told, upon which all the quilting party raised their
heads simultaneously, to take another review of her.
"Your uncle's wife aint a Frenchwoman, be she?" asked the
sewing-woman.
Fleda said, "Oh, no!" and Miss Quackenboss remarked, that "she
thought she wa'n't;" whereby Fleda perceived it had been a
subject of discussion.
"She lives like one, don't she?" said aunt Syra.
Which imputation Fleda also refuted to the best of her power.
"Well, don't she have dinner in the middle of the afternoon?"
pursued aunt Syra.
Fleda was obliged to admit that.
"And she can't eat without she has a fresh piece of roast meat
on table every day, can she?"
"It is not always roast," said Fleda, half vexed and half
laughing.
"I'd rather have a good dish o' bread and 'lasses, than the
hull on't," observed old Mrs. Finn, from the corner where she
sat, manifestly turning up her nose at the far-off joints on
Mrs. Rossitur's dinner-table.
The girls on the other side of the quilt again held counsel
together, deep and low.
"Well, didn't she pick up all them notions in that place
yonder? where you say she has been?" aunt Syra went on.
"No," said Fleda; "everybody does so in New York."
"I want to know what kind of a place New York is, now," said
old Mrs. Finn, drawlingly. "I s'pose it's pretty big, aint
it?"
Fleda replied that it was.
"I shouldn't wonder if it was a'most as far as from here to
Queechy Run, now; aint it?"
The distance mentioned being somewhere about one-eighth of New
York's longest diameter, Fleda answered that it was quite as
far.
"I s'pose there's plenty o' mighty rich folks there, aint
there?"
"Plenty, I believe," said Fleda.
"I should hate to live in it awfully," was the old woman's
conclusion.
"I should admire to travel in many countries," said Miss Lucy,
for the first time seeming to intend her words particularly
for Fleda's ear. "I think nothing makes people more genteel. I
have observed it frequently."
Fleda said it was very pleasant; but though encouraged by this
opening, could not muster enough courage to ask if Miss Lucy
had a "notion" to come and prove their gentility. Her next
question was startling if Fleda had ever studied
mathematics.
"No," said Fleda. "Have you?"
"O my, yes! There was a lot of us concluded we would learn it;
and we commenced to study it a long time ago. I think it's a
most elevating "
The discussion was suddenly broken off, for the sewing-woman
exclaimed, as the other sister came in and took her seat
"Why, Hannah! you ha'n't been makin' bread with that clock on
your hands!"
"Well, Mis' Barnes!" said the girl; "I've washed 'em, and I've
made bread with 'em, and even that did not take it off!"
"Do you look at the stars, too, Hannah?" said Mrs. Douglass.
Amidst a small hubbub of laugh and talk which now became
general, poor Fleda fell back upon one single thought, one
wish that Hugh would come to fetch her home before tea-time.
But it was a vain hope. Hugh was not to be there till sundown,
and supper was announced long before that. They all filed
down, and Fleda with them, to the great kitchen below stairs;
and she found herself placed in the seat of honour indeed, but
an honour she would gladly have escaped, at Miss Anastasia's
right hand.
A temporary locked-jaw would have been felt a blessing. Fleda
dared hardly even look about her; but under the eye of her
hostess the instinct of good breeding was found sufficient to
swallow everything, literally and figuratively. There was a
good deal to swallow. The usual variety of cakes, sweetmeats,
beef, cheese, biscuits, and pies, was set out with some
peculiarity of arrangement which Fleda had never seen before,
and which left that of Miss Quackenboss elegant by comparison.
Down each side of the table ran an advanced guard of little
sauces in Indian file, but in companies of three, the file
leader of each being a saucer of custard, its follower a ditto
of preserves, and the third keeping a sharp look-out in the
shape of pickles; and to Fleda's unspeakable horror, she
discovered that the guests were expected to help themselves at
will from these several stores with their own spoons,
transferring what they took either to their own plates, or at
once to its final destination, which last mode several of the
company preferred. The advantage of this plan was the
necessary great display of the new silver tea-spoons, which
Mrs. Douglass slily hinted to aunt Syra were the moving cause
of the tea-party. But aunt Syra swallowed sweetmeats, and
would not give heed.
There was no relief for poor Fleda. Aunt Syra was her next
neighbour, and opposite to her, at Miss Anastasia's left hand,
was the disagreeable countenance and peering eyes of the old
crone, her mother. Fleda kept her own eyes fixed upon her
plate, and endeavoured to see nothing but that.
"Why, here's Fleda aint eating anything," said Mrs. Douglass.
"Wont you have some preserves? take some custard, do!
Anastasy, she ha'n't a spoon no wonder!"
Fleda had secretly conveyed hers under cover.
"There was one," said Miss Anastasia, looking about where one
should have been. I'll get another as soon as I give Mis'
Springer her tea."
"Ha'n't you got enough to go round?" said the old woman,
plucking at her daughter's sleeve. "Anastasy! ha'n't you got
enough to go round?"
This speech, which was spoken with a most spiteful simplicity,
Miss Anastasia answered with superb silence, and presently
produced spoons enough to satisfy herself and the company. But
Fleda! No earthly persuasion could prevail upon her to touch
pickles, sweetmeats, or custard that evening; and even in the
bread and cakes she had a vision of hands before her that took
away her appetite. She endeavoured to make a show with hung
beef and cups of tea, which indeed was not Pouchong; but her
supper came suddenly to an end upon a remark of her hostess,
addressed to the whole table, that they needn't be surprised
if they found any bits of pudding in the gingerbread, for it
was made from the molasses the children left the other day.
Who "the children" were Fleda did not know, neither was it
material.
It was sundown, but Hugh had not come when they went to the
upper rooms again. Two were open now, for they were small, and
the company promised not to be such. Fathers and brothers, and
husbands began to come, and loud talking, and laughing and
joking took place of the quilting chit-chat. Fleda would fain
have absorbed herself in the work again, but though the frame
still stood there, the minds of the company were plainly
turned aside from their duty, or perhaps they thought that
Miss Anastasia had had admiration enough to dispense with
service. Nobody showed a thimble but one or two old ladies;
and as numbers and spirits gathered strength, a kind of
romping game was set on foot, in which a vast deal of kissing
seemed to be the grand wit of the matter. Fleda shrank away
out of sight behind the open door of communication between the
two rooms, pleading, with great truth, that she was tired, and
would like to keep perfectly quiet; and she had soon the
satisfaction of being apparently forgotten.
In the other room, some of the older people were enjoying
themselves more soberly. Fleda's ear was too near the crack of
the door, not to have the benefit of more of their
conversation than she cared for. It soon put quiet of mind out
of the question.
"He'll twist himself up pretty short that's my sense of it;
and he wont take long to do it, nother," said Earl Douglass's
voice.
Fleda would have known it anywhere, from its extreme
peculiarity. It never either rose or fell much from a certain
pitch; and at that level the words gurgled forth, seemingly
from an everbrimming fountain; he never wanted one; and the
stream had neither let nor stay till his modicum of sense had
fairly run out. People thought he had not a greater stock of
that than some of his neighbours; but he issued an amount of
word-currency sufficient for the use of the county.
"He'll run himself agin a post pretty quick," said uncle
Joshua, in a confirmatory tone of voice.
Fleda had a confused idea that somebody was going to hang
himself.
"He aint a-workin' things right," said Douglass; "he aint a-
workin' things right; he's takin' hold o' everything by the
tail end. He aint studied the business; he doesn't know when
things is right, and he doesn't know when things is wrong; and
if they're wrong, he don't know how to set 'em right. He's got
a feller there that aint no more fit to be there, than I am to
be Vice-President of the United States; and I aint a-going to
say what I think I am fit for, but I ha'n't studied for that
place, and I shouldn't like to stand an examination for't; and
a man hadn't ought to be a farmer no more if he ha'n't
qualified himself. That's my idee. I like to see a thing done
well, if it's to be done at all; and there aint a stitch o'
land been laid right on the hull farm, nor a furrow driv' as
it had ought to be, since he came on to it; and I say, Squire
Springer, a man aint going to get along in that way, and he
hadn't ought to. I work hard myself, and I calculate to work
hard, and I make a livin' by't; and I'm content to work hard.
When I see a man with his hands in his pockets, I think he'll
have nothin' else in 'em soon. I don't believe he's done a
hand's turn himself on the land the hull season!"
And upon this Mr. Douglass brought up.
"My son, Lucas, has been workin' with him, off and on, pretty
much the hull time since he come; and he says he ha'n't begun
to know how to spell farmer yet."
"Ay, ay! My wife she's a little harder on folks than I be
I think it aint worth while to say nothin' of a man without I
can say some good of him that's my idee; and it don't do no
harm, nother; but my wife, she says he's got to let down his
notions a peg or two afore they'll hitch just in the right
place; and I wont say but what I think she aint, maybe, fur
from right. If a man's above his business, he stands a pretty
fair chance to be below it some day. I wont say myself, for I
haven't any acquaintance with him, and a man oughtn't to speak
but of what he's knowing to; but I have heerd say, that he
wa'n't as conversationable as it would ha' been handsome in
him to be, all things considerin.' There seems to be a good
many things said of him, somehow, and l always think men don't
talk of a man if he don't give 'em occasion; but, anyhow, I've
been past the farm pretty often myself this summer, working
with Seth Plumfield; and I've took notice of things myself;
and I know he's been makin' beds o' sparrowgrass when he had
ought to ha' been makin' fences, and he's been helpin' that
little girl o' his'n set her flowers, when he would ha' been
better sot to work lookin' after his Irishman. But I don't
know as it made much matter, nother; for if he went wrong, Mr.
Rossitur wouldn't know how to set him right, and if he was a-
going right, Mr. Rossitur would ha' been just as likely to ha'
set him wrong. Well, I'm sorry for him!"
"Mr. Rossitur is a most gentlemanlike man," said the voice of
Dr. Quackenboss.
"Ay I dare say he is," Earl responded, in precisely the same
tone. "I was down to his house one day last summer to see him.
He wa'n't to hum, though."
"It would be strange if harm come to a man with such a
guardian angel in the house as that man has in his'n." said
Dr. Quackenboss.
"Well she's a pretty creetur!" said Douglass, looking up with
some animation. "I wouldn't blame any man that sot a good deal
by her. I will say I think she's as handsome as my own darter;
and a man can't go no furder than that, I suppose."
"She wont help his farming much, I guess," said uncle Joshua,
"nor his wife nother."
Fleda heard Dr. Quackenboss coming through the doorway, and
started from her corner, for fear he might find her out there,
and know what she had heard.
He very soon found her out in the new place she had chosen,
and came up to pay his compliments. Fleda was in a mood for
anything but laughing, yet the mixture of the ludicrous which
the doctor administered set her nerves a-twitching. Bringing
his chair down sideways at one angle and his person at
another, so as to meet at the moment of the chair's touching
the floor, and with a look and smile, slanting to match, the
doctor said
"Well, Miss Ringgan, has a Mrs. Rossitur does she feel
herself reconciled yet?"
"Reconciled, Sir?' said Fleda.
"Yes a to Queechy?"
"She never quarrelled with it, Sir," said Fleda, quite unable
to keep from laughing.
"Yes I mean a she feels that she can sustain her spirits
in different situations?"
"She is very well, Sir, thank you."
"It must have been a great change to her and to you all
coming to this place."
"Yes, Sir; the country is very different from the city."
"In what part of New York was Mr. Rossitur's former
residence?"
" In State-street, Sir."
"State-street that is somewhere in the direction of the
Park?"
"No, Sir, not exactly."
"Was Mrs. Rossitur a native of the city?"
"Not of New York. Oh, Hugh! my dear Hugh!" exclaimed Fleda, in
another tone "what have you been thinking of?"
"Father wanted me," said Hugh. "I could not help it, Fleda."
"You are not going to have the cruelty to take your a
cousin away, Mr. Rossitur?" said the doctor.
But Fleda was for once happy to be cruel; she would hear no
remonstrances. Though her desire for Miss Lucy's "help" had
considerably lessened, she thought she could not in politeness
avoid speaking on the subject, after being invited there on
purpose. But Miss Lucy said she "calculated to stay at home
this winter," unless she went to live with somebody at Kenton,
for the purpose of attending a course of philosophy lectures
that she heard were to be given there. So that matter was
settled; and, clasping Hugh's arm, Fleda turned away from the
house with a step and heart both lightened by the joy of being
out of it.
"I coudn't come sooner, Fleda," said Hugh.
"No matter Oh, I'm so glad to be away! Walk a little faster,
dear Hugh. Have you missed me at home?"
"Do you want me to say no or yes?" said Hugh, smiling. "We did
very well mother and I and I have left everything ready to
have tea the minute you get home. What sort of a time have you
had?"
In answer to which Fleda gave him a long history, and then
they walked on a while in silence. The evening was still, and
would have been dark but for the extreme brilliancy of the
stars through the keen, clear atmosphere. Fleda looked up at
them, and drew large draughts of bodily and mental refreshment
with the bracing air.
"Do you know to-morrow will be Thanksgiving-day?"
"Yes; what made you think of it?"
"They were talking about it; they make a great fuss here
Thanksgiving-day."
"I don't think we shall make much of a fuss," said Hugh.
"I don't think we shall. I wonder what I shall do I am
afraid uncle Rolf will get tired of coffee and omelettes in
the course of time; and my list of receipts is very limited."
"It is a pity you didn't beg one of Mrs. Renney's books," said
Hugh, laughing. "If you had only known "
" 'Tisn't too late!" said Fleda, quickly. "I'll send to New
York for one. I will! I'll ask uncle Orrin to get it for me.
That's the best thought!"
"But, Fleda, you're not going to turn cook in that fashion?"
"It would be no harm to have the book," said Fleda. "I can
tell you, we mustn't expect to get anybody here that can make
an omelette, or even coffee, that uncle Rolf will drink. Oh,
Hugh! "
"What?"
"I don't know where we are going to get anybody! But don't say
anything to aunt Lucy about it."
"Well, we can keep Thanksgiving-day, Fleda, without a dinner,"
said Hugh, cheerfully.
"Yes, indeed I am sure I can after being among these
people to-night. How much I have that they want! Look at the
Great Bear over there! Isn't that better than New York?"
"The Great Bear hangs over New York, too," Hugh said, with a
smile.
"Ah! but it isn't the same thing. Heaven hasn't the same eyes
for the city and the country."
As Hugh and Fleda went quick up to the kitchen-door, they
overtook a dark figure, at whom looking narrowly as she
passed, Fleda recognised Seth Plumfield. He was joyfully let
into the kitchen, and there proved to be the bearer of a huge
dish, carefully covered with a napkin.
"Mother guessed you hadn't any Thanksgiving ready," he said,
"and she wanted to send this down to you; so I thought I would
come and fetch it myself."
"Oh, thank her! and thank you, cousin Seth; how good you are!"
"Mother ha'n't lost her old trick at 'em," said he; "so I hope
that's good."
"Oh, I know it is," said Fleda. "I remember aunt Miriam's
Thanksgiving chicken-pies. Now, cousin Seth, you must come in,
and see aunt Lucy."
"No," said he, quietly: "I've got my farm boots on. I guess I
wont see anybody but you."
But Fleda would not suffer that; and finding she could not
move him, she brought her aunt out into the kitchen. Mrs.
Rossitur's manner of speaking, and thanking him, quite charmed
Seth, and he went away with a kindly feeling towards those
gentle, bright eves, which he never forgot.
"Now, we've something for to-morrow, Hugh !" said Fleda; "and
such a chicken-pie, I can tell you, as you never saw. Hugh,
isn't it odd, how different a thing is in different
circumstances? You don't know how glad I was when I put my
hands upon that warm pie-dish, and knew what it was; and when
did I ever care in New York about Emile's doings?"
"Except the almond gauffres," said Hugh, smiling.
"I never thought to be so glad of a chicken-pie," said Fleda,
shaking her head.
Aunt Miriam's dish bore out Fleda's praise, in the opinion of
all that tasted it; for such fowls, such butter, and such
cream, as went to its composition, could hardly be known but
in an unsophisticated state of society. But one pie could not
last for ever; and as soon as the signs of dinner were got rid
of, Thanksgiving-day though it was, poor Fleda was fain to go
up the hill, to consult aunt Miriam about the possibility of
getting "help."
"I don't know, dear Fleda," said she; "if you cannot get Lucy
Flinn, I don't know who else there is you can get. Mrs. Toles
wants both her daughters at home, I know, this winter, because
she is sick; and Marietta Winchel is working at aunt Syra's. I
don't know do you remember Barby Elster, that used to live
with me?"
"O yes!"
"She might go she has been staying at home these two years,
to take care of her old mother, that's the reason she left me;
but she has another sister come home now Hetty, that
married, and went to Montepoole; she's lost her husband and
come home to live; so perhaps Barby would go out again. But I
don't know how do you think your aunt Lucy would get along
with her?"
"Dear aunt Miriam, you know we must do as we can. We must have
somebody."
"Barby is a little quick," said Mrs. Plumfield, "but I think
she is good-hearted, and she is thorough and faithful as the
day is long. If your aunt and uncle can put up with her ways."
"I am sure we can, aunt Miriam. Aunt Lucy's the easiest person
in the world to please; and I'll try and keep her away from
uncle Rolf. I think we can get along. I know Barby used to
like me."
"But then Barby knows nothing about French cooking, my child;
she can do nothing but the common, country things. What will
your uncle and aunt say to that?"
"I don't know," said Fleda, "but anything is better than
nothing. I must try and do what she can't do. I'll come up and
get you to teach me, aunt Miriam."
Aunt Miriam hugged and kissed her before speaking.
"I'll teach you what I know, my darling: and now we'll go
right off and see Barby we shall catch her just in a good
time."
It was a poor little unpainted house, standing back from the
road, and with a double row of' boards laid down to serve as a
path to it. But this board walk was scrubbed perfectly clean.
They went in without knocking. There was nobody there but an
old woman seated before the fire, shaking all over with the
St. Vitus's Dance. She gave them no salutation, calling
instead on "Barby!" who presently made her appearance from
the inner door.
"Barby! who's this?"
"That's Mis' Plumfield, mother," said the daughter, speaking
loud as to a deaf person.
The old lady immediately got up and dropped a very quick and
what was meant to be a very respect-showing courtesy, saying
at the same time, with much deference, and with one of her
involuntary twitches, "I ' 'maun ' to know!" The sense of the
ludicrous and the feeling of pity together, were painfully
oppressive. Fleda turned away to the daughter, who came
forward and shook hands with a frank look of pleasure at the
sight of her elder visitor.
"Barby," said Mrs. Plumfield, "this is little Fleda Ringgan
do you remember her?"
"I 'mind to know!" said Barby, transferring her hand to
Fleda's, and giving it a good squeeze. "She's growed a fine
gal, Mis' Plumfield. You ha'n't lost none of your good looks
- ha' you kept all your old goodness along with 'em?"
Fleda laughed at this abrupt question, and said she didn't
know.
"If you ha'n't, I wouldn't give much for your eyes," said
Barby, letting go her hand.
Mrs. Plumfield laughed too at Barby's equivocal mode of
complimenting.
"Who's that young gal, Barby?" inquired Mrs. Elster.
"That's Mis' Plumfield's niece, mother."
"She's a handsome little creetur, aint she?"
They all laughed at that, and Fleda's cheeks growing crimson,
Mrs. Plumfield stepped forward to ask after the old lady's
health; and while she talked and listened, Fleda's eyes noted
the spotless condition of the room the white table, the nice
rag-carpet, the bright many-coloured patchwork counterpane on
the bed, the brilliant cleanliness of the floor, where the
small carpet left the boards bare, the tidy look of the two
women; and she made up her mind that she could get along with
Miss Barbara very well. Barby was rather tall, and in face
decidedly a fine-looking woman, though her figure had the
usual scantling proportions which nature or fashion assigns to
the hard-working dwellers in the country. A handsome, quick,
gray eye, and the mouth, were sufficiently expressive of
character, and perhaps of temper, but there were no lines of
anything sinister or surly; you could imagine a flash, but not
a cloud.
"Barby, you are not tied at home any longer, are you?" said.
Mrs. Plumfield, coming back from the old lady and speaking
rather low; "now that Hetty is here, can't your mother spare
you?"
"Well, I reckon she could, Mis' Plumfield, if I could work it
so that she'd be more comfortable by my being away."
"Then you'd have no objection to go out again?"
"Where to?"
"Fleda's uncle, you know, has taken my brother's old place,
and they have no help. They want somebody to take the whole
management just you, Barby. Mrs. Rossitur isn't strong."
"Nor don't want to be, does she? I've heerd tell of her, Mis'
Plumfield I should despise to have as many legs and arms as
other folks, and not be able to help myself!"
"But you wouldn't despise to help other folks, I hope," said
Mrs. Plumfield, smiling.
"People that want you very much, too," said Fleda; for she
quite longed to have that strong hand and healthy eye to rely
upon at home. Barby looked at her with a relaxed face, and,
after a little consideration, said she guessed "she'd try."
"Mis' Plumfield," cried the old lady, as they were moving
"Mis' Plumfield, you said you'd send me a piece of pork."
"I haven't forgotten it, Mrs. Elster you shall have it."
"Well, you get it out for me yourself," said the old woman,
speaking very energetically "don't you send no one else to
the barrel for't, because I know you'll give me the biggest
piece."
Mrs. Plumfield laughed and promised.
"I'll come up and work it out some odd day," said the
daughter, nodding intelligently, as she followed them to the
door.
"We'll talk about that," said Mrs. Plumfield.
"She was wonderful pleased with the pie," said Barby, "and so
was Hetty; she ha'n't seen anything so good, she says, since
she quit Queechy."
"Well, Barby," said Mrs. Plumfield, as she turned and grasped
her hand, "did you remember your thanksgiving over it?"
"Yes, Mis' Plumfield," and the fine grey eyes fell to the
floor; "but I minded it only because it had come from you. I
seemed to hear you saying just that out of every bone I
picked."
"You minded my message," said the other, gently.
"Well, I don't mind the things I had ought to most," said
Barby, in a subdued voice "never! 'cept mother I aint
very apt to forget her."
Mrs. Plumfield saw a tell-tale glittering beneath the drooping
eyelid. She added no more but a sympathetic strong squeeze of
the hand she held, and turned to follow Fleda who had gone on
ahead.
"Mis' Plumfield," said Barby, before they had reached the
stile that led into the road, where Fleda was standing, "will
I be sure of having the money regular down yonder? You know, I
hadn't ought to go otherways, on account of mother."
"Yes, it will be sure," said Mrs. Plumfield, "and regular;"
adding quietly, "I'll make it so."
There was a bond for the whole amount in aunt Miriam's eyes;
and, quite satisfied, Barby went back to the house.
"Will she expect to come to our table, aunt Miriam'? said
Fleda, when they had walked a little way.
"No, she will not expect that; but Barby will want a different
kind of managing from those Irish women of yours. She wont
bear to be spoken to in a way that don't suit her notions of
what she thinks she deserves; and perhaps your aunt and uncle
will think her notions rather high I don't know."
"There is no difficulty with aunt Lucy," said Fleda; "and I
guess I can manage uncle Rolf I'll try. _I_ like her very
much."
"Barby is very poor," said Mrs. Plumfield; "she has nothing
but her own earnings to support herself and her old mother,
and now, I suppose, her sister and her child; for Hetty is a
poor thing never did much, and now I suppose does nothing."
"Are those Finns poor, aunt Miriam?"
"O no not at all they are very well off."
"So I thought they seemed to have plenty of everything, and
silver spoons and all. But why then do they go out to work?"
"They are a little too fond of getting money, I expect," said
aunt Miriam. "And they are a queer sort of people rather the
mother is queer, and the children are queer they aint like
other folks exactly never were."
"I am very glad we are to have Barby, instead of that Lucy
Finn," said Fleda. "Oh, aunt Miriam! you can't think how much
easier my heart feels."
"Poor child!" said aunt Miriam, looking at her. "But it isn't
best, Fleda, to have things work too smooth in this world."
"No, I suppose not," said Fleda, sighing. "Isn't it very
strange, aunt Miriam, that it should make people worse instead
of better to have everything go pleasantly with them?"
"It is because they are apt then to be so full of the present,
that they forget the care of the future."
"Yes, and forget there is anything better than the present, I
suppose," said Fleda.
"So we mustn't fret at the ways our Father takes to keep us
from hurting ourselves," said aunt Miriam, cheerfully.
"O no!" said Fleda, looking up brightly, in answer to the
tender manner in which these words were spoken; "and I
didn't mean that _this_ is much of a trouble only I am very
glad to think that somebody is coming to-morrow."
Aunt Miriam thought that gentle unfretful face could not stand
in need of much discipline.