Volume I Part 87 (1/2)
”He has tuk himself off out o' town.”
”Where to?”
”I can't tell where teu ? he aint coming back, tain't likely.”
”How do you know?”
” 'Cause he's tuk all his traps and went, and he said farming didn't pay, and he wa'n't a-going to have nothin' more to deu with it; ? he telled Mis' Simpson so ? he lived to Mis'
Simpson's; and she telled Mr. Ten Eyck.”
”Are you sure, Philetus?”
”Sure as 'lection! ? he telled Mis' Simpson so, and she telled Mr. Ten Eyck; and he's cleared out.”
Fleda and Hugh again looked at each other. Mr. Skillcorn having now delivered himself of his news, went out to the woodyard.
”I hope he ha'n't carried off our cows along with him,” said Barby, as she, too, went out to some other part of her premises.
”He was to have made us quite a payment on the first of March,” said Fleda.
”Yes, and that was to have gone to uncle Orrin,” said Hugh.
”We shall not see a cent of it. And we wanted a little of it for ourselves. I have that money from the _Excelsior_, but I can't touch a penny of it, for it must go to Philetus's wages.
What Barby does without hers, I do not know; she has had but one five dollars in six months. Why she stays I cannot imagine; unless it is for pure love.”
”As soon as the spring opens, I can go to the mill again,”
said Hugh, after a little pause. Fleda looked at him sorrowfully, and shook her head as she withdrew her eyes.
”I wish father would give up the farm,” Hugh went on, under his breath. ”I cannot bear to live upon uncle Orrin so.”
Fleda's answer was to clasp her hands. Her only words were, ”Don't say anything to aunt Lucy.”
”It is of no use to say anything to anybody,” said Hugh. ”But it weighs me to the ground, Fleda.”
”If uncle Rolf doesn't come home by spring ? I hope, I hope he will! but if he does not, I will take desperate measures. I will try farming myself, Hugh. I have thought of it, and I certainly will. I will get Earl Dougla.s.s, or somebody else, to play second fiddle, but I will have but one head on the farm, and I will try what mine is worth.”
”You could not do it, Fleda.”
”One can do anything! with a strong enough motive.”
”I'm afraid you'd soon be tired, Fleda.”
”Not if I succeeded ? not so tired as I am now.”
”Poor Fleda! I dare say you are tired!”
”It wasn't _that_ I meant,” said Fleda, slightly drawing her breath; ”I meant this feeling of everything going wrong, and uncle Orrin, and all.”
”But you _are_ weary,” said Hugh, affectionately. ”I see it in your face.”