Volume I Part 89 (2/2)

You see how dangerous it is to meddle with such equivocal things as compliments. But we are worth looking at, aren't we?

I have been standing here this half hour.”

He did not say this time what he thought.

”Pretty, isn't it?” said Fleda. ”Stand a little further back, Mr. Olmney; isn't it quite a wild looking scene, in that peculiar light, and with the snowy background? Look at Philetus now, with that bundle of sticks. Hugh, isn't he exactly like some of the figures in the old pictures of the martyrdoms, bringing billets to feed the fire? that old martyrdom of St. Lawrence ? whose was it ? Spagnoletto! ? at Mrs. Decatur's ? don't you recollect? It is fine, isn't it, Mr. Olmney?”

”I am afraid,” said he, shaking his head a little, ”my eye wants training. I have not been once in your company, I believe, without your showing me something I could not see.”

”That young lady, Sir,” said Dr. Quackenboss, from the far side of the fire, where he was busy giving it more wood; ”that young lady, Sir, is a patron to her ? a ? to all young ladies.”

”A patron!” said Mr. Olmney.

”Pa.s.sively, not actively, the doctor means,” said Fleda, softly.

”Well, I wont say but she's a good girl,” said Mr. Dougla.s.s, in an abstracted manner, busy with his iron ladle: ”she means to be a good girl, she's as clever a girl as you need to have.”

n.o.body's gravity stood this, excepting Philetus, in whom the principle of fun seemed not to be developed.

”Miss Ringgan, Sir,” Dr. Quackenboss went on, with a most benign expression of countenance ? ”Miss Ringgan, Sir, Mr.

Olmney, sets an example to all ladies who ? a ? have had elegant advantages. She gives her patronage to the agricultural interest in society.”

”Not exclusively, I hope?” said Mr. Olmney, smiling, and making the question with his eye of Fleda. But she did not meet it.

”You know,” she said, rather quickly, and drawing back from the fire, ”I am of an agricultural turn, perforce; in uncle Rolf's absence, I am going to be a farmer myself.”

”So I have heard? so Mrs. Rossitur told me; but I fear, pardon me, you do not look fit to grapple with such a burden of care.”

Hugh sighed, and Fleda's eyes gave Mr. Olmney a hint to be silent.

”I am not going to grapple with any thing, Sir; I intend to take things easily.”

”I wish I could take an agricultural turn, too,” said he, smiling, ”and be of some service to you.”

”Oh, I shall have no lack of service,” said Fleda, gaily; ”I am not going unprovided into the business. There is my cousin Seth Plumfield who has engaged himself to be my counsellor and instructor in general; I could not have a better; and Mr.

Dougla.s.s is to be my right hand, I occupying only the quiet and una.s.suming post of the will, to convey the orders of the head to the hand. And for the rest, Sir, there is Philetus!”

Mr. Olmney looked, half laughing, at Mr. Skillcorn, who was at that moment standing with his hands on his sides, eyeing with concentrated gravity the movements of Earl Dougla.s.s and the doctor.

”Don't shake your head at him!” said Fleda. ”I wish you had come an hour earlier, Mr. Olmney.”

”Why?”

”I was just thinking of coming out here,” said Fleda, her eyes flas.h.i.+ng with hidden fun; ”and Hugh and I were both standing in the kitchen, when we heard a tremendous shout from the woodyard. Don't laugh, or I can't go on. We all ran out towards the lantern which we saw standing there, and so soon as we got near we heard Philetus singing out, 'Ho, Miss Elster! I'm dreadfully on't!' ? Why he called upon Barby I don't know, unless from some notion of her general efficiency, though, to be sure, he was nearer her than the sap-boilers, and perhaps thought her aid would come quickest. And he was in a hurry, for the cries came thick, ? 'Miss Elster! ? here! ?

I'm dreadfully on't' ?”

”I don't understand ?”

”No,” said Fleda, whose amus.e.m.e.nt seemed to be increased by the gentleman's want of understanding, ”and neither did we till we came up to him. The silly fellow had been sent up for more wood, and, splitting a log, he had put his hand in to keep the cleft, instead of a wedge, and when he took out the axe the wood pinched him; and he had the fate of Milo before his eyes, I suppose, and could do nothing but roar. You should have seen the supreme indignation with which Barby took the axe and released him, with, 'You're a smart man, Mr.

Skillcorn!' ”

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