Volume I Part 70 (1/2)
”I do not measure a man by his inches,” said Fleda.
”Then you have no particular predilection for shooting-men?”
”I have no predilection for shooting anything, Sir?”
”Then I am safe!” said he, with an arrogant little air of satisfaction. ”I was born under an indolent star, but I confess to you, privately, of the two I would rather gather my harvests with the sickle than the sword. How does your uncle find it?”
”Find what, Sir?”
”The wors.h.i.+p of Ceres? ? I remember he used to be devoted to Apollo and the Muses.”
”Are they rival deities?”
”Why ? I have been rather of the opinion that they were too many for one house to hold,” said Thorn, glancing at Mr.
Rossitur. ”But perhaps the Graces manage to reconcile them.”
”Did you ever hear of the Graces getting supper?” said Fleda.
”Because Ceres sometimes sets them at that work. Uncle Rolf,”
she added as she pa.s.sed him ? ”Mr. Thorn is inquiring after Apollo ? will you set him right, while I do the same for the tablecloth?”
Her uncle looked from her sparkling eyes to the rather puzzled expression of his guest's face.
”I was only asking your lovely niece,” said Mr. Thorn, coming down from his stilts, ”how you liked this country life.”
Dr. Quackenboss bowed, probably in approbation of the epithet.
”Well, Sir, what information did she give you on the subject?”
”Left me in the dark, Sir, with a vague hope that you would enlighten me.”
”I trust Mr. Rossitur can give a favourable report?” said the doctor, benignly.
But Mr. Rossitur's frowning brow looked very little like it.
”What do you say to our country life, Sir?”
”It's a confounded life, Sir,” said Mr. Rossitur, taking a pamphlet from the table to fold and twist as he spoke; ”it is a confounded life; for the head and the hands must either live separate, or the head must do no other work but wait upon the hands. It is an alternative of loss and waste, Sir.”
”The alternative seems to be of ? a ? limited application,”
said the doctor, as Fleda, having found that Hugh and Barby had been beforehand with her, now came back to the company. ”I am sure this lady would not give such a testimony.”
”About what?” said Fleda, colouring under the fire of so many eyes.
”The blighting influence of Ceres' sceptre,” said Mr. Thorn.
”This country life,” said her uncle ? ”do you like it, Fleda?”
”You know, uncle,” said she, cheerfully, ”I was always of the old Dougla.s.s's mind ? I like better to hear the lark sing than the mouse squeak.”