Volume I Part 60 (1/2)

”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 circ.u.mstances? 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 b.u.t.ter, 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 n.o.body 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.