Volume I Part 8 (1/2)
”How do you know?” said Mr. Carleton, turning to her. ”By your wit as a fairy?”
”I know by the colour,” said Fleda, modestly; ”and by the shape too.”
”Fairy,” said Mr. Rossitur, ”if you have any of the stuff about you, I wish you would knock this gentleman over the head with your wand, and put the spirit of moving into him. He is going to sit dreaming here all day.”
”Not at all,” said his friend, springing up; ”I am ready for you; but I want other game than woodc.o.c.k just now, I confess.”
They walked along in silence, and had near reached the extremity of the table-land, which, towards the end of the valley, descended into ground of a lower level covered with woods; when Mr. Carleton, who was a little ahead, was startled by Fleda's voice, exclaiming, in a tone of distress, ”Oh, not the robins!” and turning about, perceived Mr. Rossitur standing still with levelled gun, and just in the act to shoot. Fleda had stopped her ears. In the same instant, Mr.
Carleton had thrown up the gun, demanding of Rossitur, with a singular change of expression ? ”what he meant!”
”Mean?” said the young gentleman, meeting with an astonished face the indignant fire of his companion's eyes ? ”why, I mean not to meddle with other people's guns, Mr. Carleton. What do _you_ mean?”
”Nothing, but to protect myself.”
”Protect yourself!” said Rossitur, heating as the other cooled ? ”from what, in the name of wonder?”
”Only from having my word blown away by your fire,” said Carleton, smiling. ”Come, Rossitur, recollect yourself ?
remember our compact.”
”Compact! one isn't bound to keep compacts with unearthly personages,” said Rossitur, half sulkily and half angrily; ”and besides, I made none.”
Mr. Carleton turned from him very coolly, and walked on.
They left the table-land and the wood, entered the valley again, and pa.s.sed through a large orchard, the last of the succession of fields which stretched along it. Beyond this orchard the ground rose suddenly, and on the steep hill-side there had been a large plantation of Indian corn. The corn was harvested, but the ground was still covered with numberless little stacks of the cornstalks. Halfway up the hill stood three ancient chestnut-trees; veritable patriarchs of the nut tribe they were, and respected and esteemed as patriarchs should be.
”There are no 'dropping nuts' to-day, either,” said Fleda, to whom the sight of her forest friends in the distance probably suggested the thought, for she had not spoken for some time.
”I suppose there hasn't been frost enough yet.”
”Why, you have a good memory, Fairy,” said Mr. Carleton. ”Do you give the nuts leave to fall of themselves?”
”Oh, sometimes grandpa and I go a nutting,” said the little girl, getting lightly over the fence ? ”but we haven't been this year.”
”Then it is a pleasure to come yet?”
”No,” said Fleda, quietly; ”the trees near the house have been stripped; and the only other nice place there is for us to go to, Mr. Didenhover let the Shakers have the nuts. I sha'n't get any this year.”
”Live in the woods and not get any nuts! that wont do, Fairy.
Here are some fine chestnuts we are coming to ? what should hinder our reaping a good harvest from these?”
”I don't think there will be any on them,” said Fleda; ”Mr.
Didenhover has been here lately with the men getting in the corn; I guess they have cleared the trees.”
”Who is Mr. Didenhover?”
”He is grandpa's man.”
”Why didn't you bid Mr. Didenhover let the nuts alone?”
”Oh, he wouldn't mind if he was told,” said Fleda. ”He does everything just as he has a mind to, and n.o.body can hinder him. Yes, they've cleared the trees ? I thought so.”