Volume I Part 53 (2/2)
”I got it honestly. It is mine, aunt Lucy,” said Fleda, smiling. ”Uncle Orrin gave me some money, just before we came away, to do what I liked with; and I haven't wanted to do anything with it till now.”
But this seemed to hurt Mrs. Rossitur more than all the rest.
Leaning her head forward upon Fleda's breast, and clasping her arms about her, she cried worse tears than Fleda had seen her shed. If it had not been for the emergency, Fleda would have broken down utterly too.
”That it should have come to this! ? I can't take it, dear Fleda! ?”
”Yes, you must, aunt Lucy,” said Fleda, soothingly. ”I couldn't do anything else with it that would give me so much pleasure. I don't want it; it would lie in my drawer till I don't know when. We'll let these people be off as soon as they please. Don't take it so; uncle Rolf will have money again ?
only just now he is out, I suppose ? and we'll get somebody else in the kitchen that will do nicely; you see if we don't.”
Mrs. Rossitur's embrace said what words were powerless to say.
”But I don't know how we're to find any one here in the country ? I don't know who'll go to look ? I am sure your uncle wont want to; and Hugh wouldn't know ?”
”I'll go,” said Fleda, cheerfully ? ”Hugh and I. We can do famously, if you'll trust me. I wont promise to bring home a French cook.”
”No, indeed; we must take what we can get. But you can get no one to-day, and they will be off by the morning's coach; what shall we do to-morrow ? for dinner? ? your uncle ?”
”I'll get dinner,” said Fleda, caressing her; ”I'll take all that on myself. It sha'n't be a bad dinner either. Uncle Rolf will like what I do for him, I dare say. Now, cheer up, aunt Lucy; do; that's all I ask of you. Wont you ? for me?”
She longed to speak a word of that quiet hope with which in every trouble she secretly comforted herself ? she wanted to whisper the words that were that moment in her own mind, ”Truly, I know that it shall be well with them that fear G.o.d;”
but her natural reserve and timidity kept her lips shut to her grief.
The women were paid off and dismissed, and departed in the next day's coach from Montepoole. Fleda stood at the front door to see them go, with a curious sense that there was an empty house at her back, and indeed upon her back. And in spite of all the cheeriness of her tone to her aunt, she was not without some shadowy feeling that soberer times might be coming upon them.
”What is to be done now?” said Hugh, close beside her.
”Oh, we are going to get somebody else,” said Fleda.
”Where?”
”I don't know! You and I are going to find out.”
”You and I!”
”Yes. We are going out after dinner, Hugh, dear,” said she, turning her bright merry face towards him ? ”to pick up somebody.”
Linking her arm within his, she went back to the deserted kitchen premises, to see how her promise about talking Mary's place was to be fulfilled.
”Do you know where to look?” said Hugh.
”I've a notion; but the first thing is dinner, that uncle Rolf mayn't think the world is turning topsy-turvy. There is nothing at all here, Hugh ? nothing in the world but bread ?
it's a blessing there is that. Uncle Rolf will have to be satisfied with a coffee dinner to-day, and I'll make him the most superb omelette that my skill is equal to! Hugh, dear, you shall set the table. ? You don't know how? ? then you shall make the toast, and I will set it the first thing of all. You perceive it is well to know how to do everything, Mr.
Hugh Rossitur.”
”Where did you learn to make omelettes?” said Hugh, with laughing admiration, as Fleda bared two pretty arms, and ran about, the very impersonation of good-humoured activity. The table was set ? the coffee was making ? and she had him established at the fire with two great plates, a pile of slices of bread, and the toasting-iron.
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