Some bring a capon, some a rurall cake,
Some nuts, some apples; some that thinke they make
The better cheeses, bring 'hem; or else send
By their ripe daughters, whom they would commend
This way to husbands; and whose baskets beare
An embleme of themselves, in plum or peare.
Ben Jonson.
So the time walked away, for this family was not now of those "whom time
runneth withal,"--to the second summer of Mr. Didenhover's term.
One morning Mrs. Rossitur was seated in the breakfast-room at her usual
employment, mending and patching; no sinecure now. Fleda opened the
kitchen door and came in folding up a calico apron she had just taken off.
"You are tired, dear," said Mrs. Rossitur sorrowfully;--"you look pale."
"Do I?"--said Fleda, sitting down. "I am a little tired!"
"Why do you do so?"
"O it's nothing" said Fleda cheerfully;--"I haven't hurt myself. I shall
be rested again in a few minutes."
"What have you been doing?"
"O I tired myself a little before breakfast in the garden, I suppose. Aunt
Lucy, don't you think I had almost a bushel of peas?--and there was a
little over a half bushel last time, so I shall call it a bushel. Isn't
that fine?"
"You didn't pick them all yourself?"
"Hugh helped me a little while; but he had the horse to get ready, and I
was out before him this morning--poor fellow, he was tired from yesterday,
I dare say."
Mrs. Rossitur looked at her, a look between remonstrance and reproach, and
cast her eyes down without saying a word, swallowing a whole heartful of
thoughts and feelings. Fleda stooped forward till her own forehead softly
touched Mrs. Rossitur's, as gentle a chiding of despondency as a very
sunbeam could have given.
"Now aunt Lucy!--what do you mean? Don't you know it's good for me?--And
do you know, Mr. Sweet will give me four shillings a bushel; and aunt
Lucy, I sent three dozen heads of lettuce this morning besides. Isn't that
doing well? and I sent two dozen day before yesterday. It is time they
were gone, for they are running up to seed, this set; I have got another
fine set almost ready."
Mrs. Rossitur looked at her again, as if she had been a sort of
terrestrial angel.
"And how much will you get for them?"
"I don't know exactly--threepence, or sixpence perhaps,--I guess not so
much--they are so easily raised; though I don't believe there are so fine
as mine to be seen in this region.--If I only had somebody to water the
strawberries!--we should have a great many. Aunt Lucy, I am going to send
as many as I can without robbing uncle Rolf--he sha'n't miss them; but the
rest of us don't mind eating rather fewer than usual? I shall make a good
deal by them. And I think these morning rides do Hugh good; don't you
think so?"
"And what have you been busy about ever since breakfast, Fleda?"
"O--two or three things," said Fleda lightly.
"What?"
"I had bread to make--and then I thought while my hands were in I would
make a custard for uncle Rolf."
"You needn't have done that, dear! it was not necessary."
"Yes it was, because you know we have only fried pork for dinner to-day,
and while we have the milk and eggs it doesn't cost much--the sugar is
almost nothing. He will like it better, and so will Hugh. As for you,"
said Fleda, gently touching her forehead again, "you know it is of no
consequence!"
"I wish you would think yourself of some consequence," said Mrs. Rossitur.
"Don't I think myself of consequence!" naid Fleda affectionately. "I don't
know how you'd all get on without me. What do you think I have a mind to
do now, by way of resting myself?"
"Well?" said Mrs Rossitur, thinking of something else.
"It is the day for making presents to the minister, you know?"
"The minister?"--
"Yes, the new minister--they expect him to-day;--you have heard of
it;--the things are all to be carried to his house to-day. I have a great
notion to go and see the fun--if I only had anything in the world I could
possibly take with me--"
"Aren't you too tired, dear?"
"No--it would rest me--it is early yet--if I only had something to
take!--I couldn't go without taking something----"
"A basket of eggs?" said Mrs. Rossitur.
"Can't, aunt Lucy--I can't spare them; so many of the hens are setting
now.--A basket of strawberries!--that's the thing! I've got enough picked
for that and to-night too. That will do!"
Fleda's preparations were soon made, and with her basket on her arm she
was ready to set forth.
"If pride had not been a little put down in me," she said smiling, "I
suppose I should rather stay at home than go with such a petty offering.
And no doubt every one that sees it or hears of it will lay it to anything
but the right reason. So much the world knows about the people it
judges!--It is too bad to leave you all alone, aunt Lucy."
Mrs. Rossitur pulled her down for a kiss, a kiss in which how much was
said on both sides!--and Fleda set forth, choosing as she very commonly
did the old-time way through the kitchen.
"Off again?" said Barby, who was on her knees scrubbing the great
flag-stones of the hearth.
"Yes, I am going up to see the donation party."
"Has the minister come?"
"No, but he is coming to-day, I understand."
"He ha'n't preached for 'em yet, has he?"
"Not yet; I suppose he will next Sunday."
"They are in a mighty hurry to give him a donation party!" said Barby.
"I'd ha' waited till he was here first. I don't believe they'd be quite so
spry with their donations if they had paid the last man up as they ought.
I'd rather give a man what belongs to him, and make him presents
afterwards."
"Why, so I hope they will, Barby," said Fleda laughing. But Barby
said no more.
The parsonage-house was about a quarter of a mile, a little more, from the
saw-mill, in a line at right angles with the main road. Fleda took Hugh
from his work to see her safe there. The road ran north, keeping near the
level of the mid-hill where it branched off a little below the saw-mill;
and as the ground continued rising towards the east and was well clothed
with woods, the way at this hour was still pleasantly shady. To the left
the same slope of ground carried down to the foot of the hill gave them an
uninterrupted view over a wide plain or bottom, edged in the distance with
a circle of gently swelling hills. Close against the hills, in the far
corner of the plain, lay the little village of Queechy Run, hid from sight
by a slight intervening rise of ground; not a chimney shewed itself in the
whole spread of country. A sunny landscape just now; but rich in
picturesque associations of hay-cocks and winnows, spotting it near and
far; and close by below them was a field of mowers at work; they could
distinctly hear the measured rush of the scythes through the grass, and
then the soft clink of the rifles would seem to play some old delicious
tune of childish days. Fleda made Hugh stand still to listen. It was a
warm day, but "the sweet south that breathes upon a bank of violets,"
could hardly be more sweet than the air which coming to them over the
whole breadth of the valley had been charged by the new-made hay.
"How good it is, Hugh," said Fleda, "that one can get out of doors
and forget everything that ever happened or ever will happen within
four walls!"
"Do you?" said Hugh, rather soberly.
"Yes I do,--even in my flower-patch, right before the house-door; but
_here_--" said Fleda, turning away and swinging her basket of strawberries
as she went, "I have no idea I ever did such a thing as make bread!--and
how clothes get mended I do not comprehend in the least!"
"And have you forgotten the peas and the asparagus too?"
"I am afraid you haven't, dear Hugh," said Fleda, linking her arm within
his. "Hugh,--I must find some way to make money."
"More money?" said Hugh smiling.
"Yes--this garden business is all very well, but it doesn't come to any
very great things after all, if you are aware of it; and, Hugh, I want to
get aunt Lucy a new dress. I can't bear to see her in that old merino, and
it isn't good for her. Why, Hugh, she couldn't possibly see anybody, if
anybody should come to the house."
"Who is there to come?" said Hugh.
"Why nobody; but still, she ought not to be so."
"What more can you do, dear Fleda? You work a great deal too hard
already," said Hugh sighing. "You should have seen the way father and
mother looked at you last night when you were asleep on the sofa."
Fleda stifled her sigh, and went on.
"I am sure there are things that might be done--things for the
booksellers--translating, or copying, or something,--I don't know
exactly--I have heard of people's doing such things. I mean to write to
uncle Orrin and ask him. I am sure he can manage it for me."
"What were you writing the other night?" said Hugh suddenly.
"When?"
"The other night--when you were writing by the firelight? I saw your
pencil scribbling away at a furious rate over the paper, and you kept your
hand up carefully between me and your face, but I could see it was
something very interesting. Ha?--" said Hugh, laughingly trying to get
another view of Fleda's face which was again kept from him. "Send _that_
to uncle Orrin, Fleda;--or shew it to me first and then I will tell you."
Fleda made no answer; and at the parsonage door Hugh left her.
Two or three wagons were standing there, but nobody to be seen. Fleda went
up the steps and crossed the broad piazza, brown and unpainted, but
picturesque still, and guided by the sound of tongues turned to the right
where she found a large low room, the very centre of the stir. But the
stir had not by any means reached the height yet. Not more than a dozen
people were gathered. Here were aunt Syra and Mrs. Douglass, appointed a
committee to receive and dispose the offerings as they were brought in.
"Why there is not much to be seen yet," said Fleda. "I did not know I was
so early."
"Time enough," said Mrs. Douglass. "They'll come the thicker when
they do come. Good-morning, Dr. Quackenboss!--I hope you're a going
to give us something else besides a bow? and I won't take none of
your physic, neither."
"I humbly submit," said the doctor graciously, "that nothing ought to be
expected of gentlemen that--a--are so unhappy as to be alone; for they
really--a--have nothing to give,--but themselves."
There was a shout of merriment.
"And suppos'n that's a gift that nobody wants?" said Mrs, Douglass's sharp
eye and voice at once.
"In that case," said the doctor, "I really--Miss Ringgan, may I--a--may I
relieve your hand of this fair burden?"
"It is not a very fair burden, sir," said Fleda, laughing and
relinquishing her strawberries.
"Ah but, fair, you know, I mean,--we speak--in that sense----Mrs
Douglass, here is by far the most elegant offering that your hands will
have the honour of receiving this day."
"I hope so," said Mrs. Douglass, "or there won't be much to eat for the
minister. Did you never take notice how elegant things somehow made folks
grow poor?"
"I guess he'd as leave see something a little substantial," said
aunt Syra.
"Well now," said the doctor, "here is Miss Ringgan, who is
unquestionably--a--elegant!--and I am sure nobody will say that
she--looks poor!"
In one sense, surely not! There could not be two opinions. But with all
the fairness of health, and the flush which two or three feelings had
brought to her cheeks, there was a look as if the workings of the mind had
refined away a little of the strength of the physical frame, and as if
growing poor in Mrs. Douglass's sense, that is, thin, might easily be the
next step.
"What's your uncle going to give us, Fleda?" said aunt Syra.
But Fleda was saved replying; for Mrs. Douglass, who if she was sharp
could be good-natured too, and had watched to see how Fleda took the
double fire upon elegance and poverty, could beat no more trial of that
sweet gentle face. Without giving her time to answer she carried her off
to see the things already stored in the closet, bidding the doctor over
her shoulder "be off after his goods, whether he had got 'em or no."
There was certainly a promising beginning made for the future minister's
comfort. One shelf was already completely stocked with pies, and another
shewed a quantity of cake, and biscuits enough to last a good-sized family
for several meals.
"That is always the way," said Mrs. Douglass;--"it's the strangest thing
that folks has no sense! Now one-half o' them pies'll be dried up afore
they can eat the rest;--'tain't much loss, for Mis' Prin sent 'em down,
and if they are worth anything it's the first time anything ever come out
of her house that was. Now look at them biscuit!"--
"How many are coming to eat them?" said Fleda.
"How?"
"How large a family has the minister?"
"He ha'n't a bit of a family! He ain't married."
"Not!"
At the grave way in which Mrs. Douglass faced around upon her and
answered, and at the idea of a single mouth devoted to all that closetful,
Fleda's gravity gave place to most uncontrollable merriment.
"No," said Mrs. Douglass, with a curious twist of her mouth but
commanding herself,--"he ain't to be sure--not yet. He ha'n't any family
but himself and some sort of a housekeeper, I suppose; they'll divide the
house between 'em."
"And the biscuits, I hope," said Fleda. "But what will he do with all the
other things, Mrs. Douglass?"
"Sell 'em if he don't want 'em," said Mrs. Douglass quizzically. "Shut up,
Fleda, I forget who sent them biscuit--somebody that calculated to make a
shew for a little, I reckon.--My sakes! I believe it was Mis' Springer
herself!--she didn't hear me though," said Mrs. Douglass peeping out of
the half-open door. "It's a good thing the world ain't all alike;--there's
Mis' Plumfield--stop now, and I'll tell you all she sent;--that big jar of
lard, there's as good as eighteen or twenty pound,--and that basket of
eggs, I don't know how many there is,--and that cheese, a real fine one
I'll be bound, she wouldn't pick out the worst in her dairy,--and Seth
fetched down a hundred weight of corn meal and another of rye flour; now
that's what I call doing things something like; if everybody else would
keep up their end as well as they keep up their'n the world wouldn't be
quite so one-sided as it is. I never see the time yet when I couldn't tell
where to find Mis' Plumfield."
"No, nor anybody else," said Fleda looking happy.
"There's Mis' Silbert couldn't find nothing better to send than a kag of
soap," Mrs. Douglass went on, seeming very much amused;--"I _was_ beat
when I saw that walk in! I should think she'd feel streaked to come here
by and by and see it a standing between Mis' Plumfield's lard and Mis'
Clavering's pork--that's a handsome kag of pork, ain't it? What's that man
done with your strawberries?--I'll put 'em up here afore somebody takes a
notion to 'em.--I'll let the minister know who he's got to thank for 'em,"
said she, winking at Fleda. "Where's Dr. Quackenboss?"
"Coming, ma'am!" sounded from the hall, and forthwith at the open door
entered the doctor's head, simultaneously with a large cheese which he was
rolling before him, the rest of the doctor's person being thrown into the
background in consequence. A curious natural representation of a
wheelbarrow, the wheel being the only artificial part.
"Oh!--that's you, doctor, is it?" said Mrs. Douglass.
"This is me, ma'am," said the doctor, rolling up to the closet
door,--"this has the honour to be--a--myself,--bringing my service to the
feet of Miss Ringgan."
"'Tain't very elegant," said the sharp lady.
Fleda thought if his service was at her feet, her feet should be somewhere
else, and accordingly stepped quietly out of the way and went to one of
the windows, from whence she could have a view both of the comers and the
come; and by this time thoroughly in the spirit of the thing she used her
eyes upon both with great amusement. People were constantly arriving now,
in wagons and on foot; and stores of all kinds were most literally pouring
in. Bags and even barrels of meal, flour, pork, and potatoes; strings of
dried apples, _salt_, hams and beef; hops, pickles, vinegar, maple sugar
and molasses; rolls of fresh butter, cheese, and eggs; cake, bread, and
pies, without end. Mr. Penny, the storekeeper, sent a box of tea. Mr.
Winegar, the carpenter, a new ox-sled. Earl Douglass brought a handsome
axe-helve of his own fashioning; his wife a quantity of rolls of wool. Zan
Finn carted a load of wood into the wood-shed, and Squire Thornton
another. Home-made candles, custards, preserves, and smoked liver, came in
a batch from two or three miles off up on the mountain. Half a dozen
chairs from the factory man. Half a dozen brooms from the other
store-keeper at the Deepwater settlement. A carpet for the best room from
the ladies of the township, who had clubbed forces to furnish it; and a
home-made concern it was, from the shears to the loom.
The room was full now, for every one after depositing his gift turned
aside to see what others had brought and were bringing; and men and women,
the young and old, had their several circles of gossip in various parts of
the crowd. Apart from them all Fleda sat in her window, probably voted
"elegant" by others than the doctor, for they vouchsafed her no more than
a transitory attention and sheered off to find something more congenial.
She sat watching the people; smiling very often as some odd figure, or
look, or some peculiar turn of expression or tone of voice, caught her ear
or her eye.
Both ear and eye were fastened by a young countryman with a particularly
fresh face whom she saw approaching the house. He came up on foot,
carrying a single fowl slung at his back by a stick thrown across his
shoulder, and without stirring hat or stick he came into the room and made
his way through the crowd of people, looking to the one hand and the other
evidently in a maze of doubt to whom he should deliver himself and his
chicken, till brought up by Mrs. Douglass's sharp voice.
"Well, Philetus! what are you looking for?"
"Do, Mis' Douglass!"--it is impossible to express the abortive attempt at
a bow which accompanied this salutation,--"I want to know if the minister
'll be in town to-day?"
"What do you want of him?"
"I don't want nothin' of him. I want to know if he'll be in town to-day?"
"Yes--I expect he'll be along directly--why, what then?"
"Cause I've got ten chickens for him here, and mother said they hadn't
ought to be kept no longer, and if he wa'n't to hum I were to fetch 'em
back, straight."
"Well he'll be here, so let's have 'em," said Mrs. Douglass biting her
lips.
"What's become o' t'other one?" said Earl, as the young man's stick was
brought round to the table;--"I guess you've lost it, ha'n't you?"
"My gracious!" was all Philetus's powers were equal to. Mrs. Douglass went
off into fits which rendered her incapable of speaking and left the
unlucky chicken-bearer to tell his story his own way, but all he brought
forth was "Du tell!--I _am_ beat!--"
"Where's t'other one?" said Mrs. Douglass between paroxysms.
"Why I ha'n't done nothin' to it," said Philetus dismally,--there was
teu on 'em afore I started, and I took and tied 'em together and hitched
'em onto the stick, and that one must ha' loosened itself off some way.--I
believe the darned thing did it o' purpose."
"I guess your mother knowed that one wouldn't keep till it got here," said
Mrs. Douglass.
The room was now all one shout, in the midst of which poor Philetus took
himself off as speedily as possible. Before Fleda had dried her eyes her
attention was taken by a lady and gentleman who had just got out of a
vehicle of more than the ordinary pretension and were coming up to the
door. The gentleman was young, the lady was not, both had a particularly
amiable and pleasant appearance; but about the lady there was something
that moved Fleda singularly and somehow touched the spring of old
memories, which she felt stirring at the sight of her. As they neared the
house she lost them--then they entered the room and came through it
slowly, looking about them with an air of good-humoured amusement. Fleda's
eye was fixed but her mind puzzled itself in vain to recover what in her
experience had been connected with that fair and lady-like physiognomy and
the bland smile that was overlooked by those acute eyes. The eyes met
hers, and then seemed to reflect her doubt, for they remained as fixed as
her own while the lady quickening her steps came up to her.
"I am sure," she said, holding out her hand, and with a gentle
graciousness that was very agreeable,--"I am sure you are somebody I know.
What is your name?"
"Fleda Ringgan."
"I thought so!" said the lady, now shaking her hand warmly and kissing
her,--"I knew nobody could have been your mother but Amy Charlton! How
like her you look!--Don't you know me? don't you remember Mrs. Evelyn?"
"Mrs. Evelyn!" said Fleda, the whole coming back to her at once.
"You remember me now?--How well I recollect you! and all that old time at
Montepoole. Poor little creature that you were! and dear little creature,
as I am sure you have been ever since. And how is your dear aunt Lucy?"
Fleda answered that she was well.
"I used to love her very much--that was before I knew you--before she
went abroad. _We_ have just got home--this spring; and now we are staying
at Montepoole for a few days. I shall come and see her to-morrow--I knew
you were somewhere in this region, but I did not know exactly where to
find you; that was one reason why I came here to-day--I thought I might
hear something of you. And where are your aunt Lucy's children? and how
are they?"
"Hugh is at home," said Fleda, "and rather delicate--Charlton is in
the army.'
"In the army. In Mexico!"--
"In Mexico he has been"--
"Your poor aunt Lucy!"
--"In Mexico he has been, but he is just coming home now--he has been
wounded, and he is coming home to spend a long furlough."
"Coming home. That will make you all very happy. And Hugh is delicate--and
how are you, love? you hardly look like a country-girl. Mr. Olmney!--"
said Mrs. Evelyn looking round for her companion, who was standing quietly
a few steps off surveying the scene,--"Mr. Olmney!--I am going to do you a
favour, sir, in introducing you to Miss Ringgan--a very old friend of
mine. Mr. Olmney,--these are not exactly the apple-cheeks and _robustious_
demonstrations we are taught to look for in country-land?"
This was said with a kind of sly funny enjoyment which took away
everything disagreeable from the appeal; but Fleda conceived a favourable
opinion of the person to whom it was made from the fact that he paid her
no compliment and made no answer beyond a very pleasant smile.
"What is Mrs. Evelyn's definition of a _very old_ friend?" said he with
with another smile, as that lady moved off to take a more particular view
of what she had come to see. "To judge by the specimen before me I should
consider it very equivocal."
"Perhaps Mrs. Evelyn counts friendships by inheritance," said Fleda. "I
think they ought to be counted so."
"'Thine own friend and thy father's friend forsake not'?" said the
young man.
Fleda looked up and smiled a pleased answer.
"There is something very lovely in the faithfulness of tried
friendship--and very uncommon."
"I know that it is uncommon only by hearsay," said Fleda, "I have so many
good friends."
He was silent for an instant, possibly thinking there might be a reason
for that unknown only to Fleda herself.
"Perhaps one must be in peculiar circumstances to realize it," he said
sighing;--"circumstances that leave one of no importance to any one in the
world.--But it is a kind lesson I--one learns to depend more on the one
friendship that can never disappoint."
Fleda's eyes again gave an answer of sympathy, for she thought from the
shade that had come upon his face that these circumstances had probably
been known to himself.
"This is rather an amusing scene," he remarked presently in a low tone.
"Very," said Fleda. "I have never seen such a one before."
"Nor I," said he. "It is a pleasant scene too, it is pleasant to see
so many evidences of kindness and good feeling on the part of all
these people."
"There is all the more shew of it, I suppose, to-day," said Fleda,
"because we have a new minister coming;--they want to make a favourable
impression."
"Does the old proverb of the 'new broom' hold good here too?" said he,
smiling. "What's the name of your new minister?"
"I am not certain," said Fleda,--"there were two talked of--the last I
heard was that it was an old Mr. Carey; but from what I hear this
morning I suppose it must be the other--a Mr. Ollum, or some such queer
name, I believe."
Fleda thought her hearer looked very much amused, and followed his eye
into the room, where Mrs. Evelyn was going about in all quarters looking
at everything, and finding occasion to enter into conversation with at
least a quarter of the people who were present. Whatever she was saying it
seemed at that moment to have something to do with them, for sundry eyes
turned in their direction; and presently Dr. Quackenboss came up, with
even more than common suavity of manner.
"I trust Miss Ringgan will do me the favour of making me acquainted
with--a--with our future pastor!" said the doctor, looking however not at
all at Miss Ringgan but straight at the pastor in question. "I have great
pleasure in giving you the first welcome, sir,--or, I should say, rather
the second; since no doubt Miss Ringgan has been in advance of me. It is
not un--a--appropriate, sir, for I may say we--a--divide the town between
us. You are, I am sure, a worthy representative of Peter and Paul; and I
am--a--a pupil of Esculapus, sir! You are the intellectual physician, and
I am the external."
"I hope we shall both prove ourselves good workmen, sir," said the young
minister, shaking the doctor's hand heartily.
"This is Dr. Quackenboss, Mr. Olmney," said Fleda, making a tremendous
effort. But though she could see corresponding indications about her
companion's eyes and mouth, she admired the kindness and self-command
with which he listened to the doctor's civilities and answered them;
expressing his grateful sense of the favours received not only from him
but from others.
"O--a little to begin with," said the doctor, looking round upon the room,
which would certainly have furnished _that_ for fifty people;--"I hope we
ain't done yet by considerable--But here is Miss Ringgan, Mr.--a--Ummin,
that has brought you some of the fruits of her own garden, with her own
fair hands--a basket of fine strawberries--which I am sure--a--will make
you forget everything else!"
Mr. Olmney had the good-breeding not to look at Fleda, as he answered, "I
am sure the spirit of kindness was the same in all, Dr. Quackenboss, and I
trust not to forget that readily."
Others now came up; and Mr. Olmney was walked off to be "made acquainted"
with all or with all the chief of his parishioners then and there
assembled. Fleda watched him going about, shaking hands, talking and
smiling, in all directions, with about as much freedom of locomotion as a
fly in a spider's web; till at Mrs. Evelyn's approach the others fell off
a little, and taking him by the arm she rescued him.
"My dear Mr. Olmney!" she whispered, with an intensely amused face,--"I
shall have a vision of you every day for a month to come, sitting down to
dinner with a rueful face to a whortleberry pie; for there are so many of
them your conscience will not let you have anything else cooked--you
cannot manage more than one a day."
"Pies!" said the young gentleman, as Mrs. Evelyn left talking to indulge
her feelings in ecstatic quiet laughing,--"I have a horror of pies!"
"Yes, yes," said Mrs. Evelyn nodding her head delightedly as she drew him
towards the pantry,--"I know!--Come and see what is in store for you. You
are to do penance for a month to come with tin pans of blackberry jam
fringed with pie-crust--no, they can't be blackberries, they must be
raspberries--the blackberries are not ripe yet. And you may sup upon cake
and custards--unless you give the custards for the little pig out
there--he will want something."
"A pig!--" said Mr. Olmney in a maze; Mrs. Evelyn again giving out in
distress. "A pig?" said Mr. Olmney.
"Yes--a pig--a very little one," said Mrs. Evelyn convulsively. "I am sure
he is hungry now!--"
They had reached the pantry, and Mr. Olmney's face was all that was
wanting to Mrs. Evelyn's delight. How she smothered it, so that it should
go no further than to distress his self-command, is a mystery known only
to the initiated. Mrs. Douglass was forthwith called into council.
"Mrs. Douglass," said Mr. Olmney, "I feel very much inclined to play the
host, and beg my friends to share with me some of these good things they
have been so bountifully providing."
"He would enjoy them much more than he would alone, Mrs. Douglass," said
Mrs. Evelyn, who still had hold of Mr. Olmney's arm, looking round to the
lady with a most benign face.
"I reckon some of 'em would be past enjoying by the time he got to 'em,
wouldn't they?" said the lady. "Well, they'll have to take 'em in their
fingers, for our crockery ha'n't come yet--I shall have to jog Mr. Flatt's
elbow--but hungry folks ain't curious."
"In their fingers, or any way, provided you have only a knife to cut them
with," said Mr. Olmney, while Mrs. Evelyn squeezed his arm in secret
mischief;--"and pray if we can muster two knives let us cut one of these
cheeses, Mrs. Douglass."
And presently Fleda saw pieces of pie walking about in all directions
supported by pieces of cheese. And then Mrs. Evelyn and Mr. Olmney came
out from the pantry and came towards her, the latter bringing her with his
own hands a portion in a tin pan. The two ladies sat down in the window
together to eat and be amused.
"My dear Fleda, I hope you are hungry!" said Mrs. Evelyn, biting her pie
Fleda could not help thinking with an air of good-humoured condescension.
"I am, ma'am," she said laughing.
"You look just as you used to do," Mrs. Evelyn went on earnestly.
"Do I?" said Fleda, privately thinking that the lady must have good eyes
for features of resemblance.
"Except that you have more colour in your cheeks and more sparkles in your
eyes. Dear little creature that you were! I want to make you know my
children. Do you remember that Mr. and Mrs. Carleton that took such care
of you at Montepoole?"
"Certainly I do!--very well."
"We saw them last winter--we were down at their country-place in----
shire. They have a magnificent place there--everything you can think of to
make life pleasant. We spent a week with them. My dear Fleda!--I wish I
could shew you that place! you never saw anything like it."
Fleda eat her pie.
"We have nothing like it in this country--of course--cannot have. One of
those superb English country-seats is beyond even the imagination of an
American."
"Nature has been as kind to us, hasn't she?" said Fleda.
"O yes, but such fortunes you know. Mr. Olmney, what do you think of
those overgrown fortunes? I was speaking to Miss Ringgan just now of a
gentleman who has forty thousand pounds a year income--sterling,
sir;--forty thousand pounds a year sterling. Somebody says, you know, that
'he who has more than enough is a thief of the rights of his
brother,'--what do you think?"
But Mr. Olmney's attention was at the moment forcibly called off by the
"income" of a parishioner.
"I suppose," said Fleda, "his thievish character must depend entirely on
the use he makes of what he has."
"I don't know," said Mrs. Evelyn shaking her head,--"I think the
possession of great wealth is very hardening."
"To a fine nature?" said Fleda.
Mrs. Evelyn shook her head again, but did not seem to think it worth while
to reply; and Fleda was trying the question in her own mind whether wealth
or poverty might be the most hardening in its effects; when Mr. Olmney
having succeeded in getting free again came and took his station beside
them; and they had a particularly pleasant talk, which Fleda who had seen
nobody in a great while enjoyed very much. They had several such talks in
the course of the day; for though the distractions caused by Mr. Olmney's
other friends were many and engrossing, he generally contrived in time to
find his way back to their window. Meanwhile Mrs. Evelyn had a great deal
to say to Fleda and to hear from her; and left her at last under an
engagement to spend the next day at the Pool.
Upon Mr. Olmney's departure with Mrs. Evelyn the attraction which had held
the company together was broken, and they scattered fast. Fleda presently
finding herself in the minority was glad to set out with Miss Anastasia
Finn and her sister Lucy, who would leave her but very little way from her
own door. But she had more company than she bargained for. Dr. Quackenboss
was pleased to attach himself to their party, though his own shortest road
certainly lay in another direction; and Fleda wondered what he had done
with his wagon, which beyond a question must have brought the cheese in
the morning. She edged herself out of the conversation as much as
possible, and hoped it would prove so agreeable that he would not think of
attending her home. In vain. When they made a stand at the cross-roads the
doctor stood on her side.
"I hope, now you've made a commencement, you will come to see us again,
Fleda," said Miss Lucy.
"What's the use of asking?" said her sister abruptly. "If she has a mind
to she will, and if she ha'n't I am sure we don't want her."
They turned off.
"Those are excellent people," said the doctor when they were beyond
hearing;--"really respectable!"
"Are they?" said Fleda.
"But your goodness does not look, I am sure, to find--a--Parisian graces
in so remote a circle?"
"Certainly not!" said Fleda.
"We have had a genial day!" said the doctor, quitting the Finns.
"I don't know," said Fleda, permitting a little of her inward merriment to
work off,--"I think it has been rather too hot."
"Yes," said the doctor, "the sun has been ardent; but I referred rather to
the--a--to the warming of affections, and the pleasant exchange of
intercourse on all sides which has taken place. How do you like
our--a--the stranger?"
"Who, sir?"
"The new-comer,--this young Mr. Ummin?"
Fleda answered, but she hardly knew what, for she was musing whether the
doctor would go away or come in. They reached the door, and Fleda invited
him, with terrible effort after her voice; the doctor having just blandly
offered an opinion upon the decided polish of Mr. Olmney's manners!