Volume I Part 61 (2/2)
”Where's the soft soap?”
Fleda's book went down, and her heart jumped to her mouth, for her uncle was sitting over by the window. Mrs. Rossitur looked up in amaze, and waited for the question to be repeated.
”I say, where's the soft soap?”
”Soft soap!” said Mrs. Rossitur ? ”I don't know whether there is any ? Fleda, do you know?”
”I was trying to think, aunt Lucy ? I don't believe there is any.”
”_Where_ is it?” said Barby.
”There is none, I believe,” said Mrs. Rossitur
”Where _was_ it, then?”
”Nowhere ? there has not been any in the house,” said Fleda, raising herself up to see over the back of her sofa.
”There ha'n't been none!” said Miss Elster, in a tone more significant than her words, and shutting the door as abruptly as she had opened it.
”What upon earth does the woman mean?” exclaimed Mr. Rossitur, springing up and advancing towards the kitchen door. Fleda threw herself before him.
”Nothing at all, uncle Rolf ? she doesn't mean anything at all ? she doesn't know any better.”
”I will improve her knowledge ? get out of the way, Fleda.”
”But, uncle Rolf, just hear me one moment ? please don't! ?
she didn't mean any harm ? these people don't know any manners ? just let me speak to her, please, uncle Rolf!” said Fleda, laying both hands upon her uncle's arms ? ”I'll manage her.”
Mr. Rossitur's wrath was high, and he would have run over or knocked down anything less gentle that had stood in his way; hut even the harshness of strength shuns to set itself in array against the meekness that does not _oppose;_ if the touch of those hands had been a whit less light, or the glance of her eye less submissively appealing, it would have availed nothing. As it was, he stopped and looked at her, at first scowling, but then with a smile.
”_You_ manage her!” said he.
”Yes,” said Fleda, laughing, and now exerting her force, she gently pushed him back towards the seat he had quitted ? ”yes, uncle Rolf, you've enough else to manage, don't undertake our 'help.' Deliver over all your displeasure upon me when anything goes wrong ? I will be the conductor to carry it off safely into the kitchen, and discharge it just at that point where I think it will do most execution. Now, will you, uncle Rolf? ? Because we have got a new-fas.h.i.+oned piece of fire-arms in the other room, that I am afraid will go off unexpectedly if it is meddled with by an unskilful hand; and that would leave us without arms, you see, or with only aunt Lucy's and mine, which are not reliable.”
”You saucy girl!” said her uncle, who was laughing partly at and partly with her, ”I don't know what you deserve exactly.
Well, keep this precious new operative of yours out of my way, and I'll take care to keep out of hers. But mind, you must manage not to have your piece snapping in my face in this fas.h.i.+on, for I wont stand it.”
And so, quieted, Mr. Rossitur sat down to his book again; and Fleda, leaving hers open, went to attend upon Barby.
”There ain't much yallow soap neither,” said this personage, ”if this is all. There's one thing ? if we ha'n't got it, we can make it. I must get Mis' Rossitur to have a leach-tub sot up right away. I'm a dreadful hand for havin' plenty o' soap.”
”What is a leach-tub?” said Fleda.
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