Volume Ii Part 39 (1/2)
”You ha'n't got one speck o' good by _this_ journey to New York,” was Miss Elster's vexed salutation.
”Do you think so?” said Fleda, rousing herself. ”I wouldn't venture to say as much as that, Barby.”
”If you have, 'tain't in your cheeks,” said Barby, decidedly.
”You look just as if you was made of anything that wouldn't stand wear, and that isn't the way you used to look.”
”I have been up a good while without breakfast ? my cheeks will be a better colour when I have had that, Barby ? they feel pale.”
The second breakfast was a cheerfuller thing. But when the second traveller was despatched, and the rest fell back upon their old numbers, Fleda was very quiet again. It vexed her to be so, but she could not change her mood. She felt as if she had been whirled along in a dream, and was now just opening her eyes to daylight and reality. And reality ? she could not help it ? looked rather dull after dream-land. She thought it was very well she was waked up; but it cost her some effort to appear so. And then she charged herself with ingrat.i.tude, her aunt and Hugh were so exceedingly happy in her company.
”Earl Dougla.s.s is quite delighted with the clover hay, Fleda.
said Hugh, as the three sat at an early dinner.
”Is he?” said Fleda.
”Yes ? you know he was very unwilling to cure it in your way, and he thinks there never was anything like it now.”
”Did you ever see finer ham, Fleda?” inquired her aunt. ”Mr.
Plumfield says it could not be better.”
”Very good!” said Fleda, whose thoughts had somehow got upon Mr. Carleton's notions about female education, and were very busy with them.
”I expected you would have remarked upon our potatoes before now,” said Hugh. ”These are the Elephants ? have you seen anything like them in New York?”
”There cannot be more beautiful potatoes,” said Mrs. Rossitur.
”We had not tried any of them before you went away, Fleda, had we?”
”I don't know, aunt Lucy ? no, I think not.”
”You needn't talk to Fleda, mother,” said Hugh, laughing ?
”she is quite beyond attending to all such ordinary matters; her thoughts have learned to take a higher flight since she has been in New York.”
”It is time they were brought down, then, said Fleda, smiling; ”but they have not learned to fly out of sight of home, Hugh.”
”Where were they, dear Fleda?” said her aunt.
”I was thinking, a minute ago, of something I heard talked about in New York, aunt Lucy; and, afterwards, I was trying to find out by what possible or imaginable road I had got round to it.”
”Could you tell?”
Fleda said, ”No,” and tried to bear her part in the conversation. But she did not know whether to blame the subjects which had been brought forward, or herself, for her utter want of interest in them. She went into the kitchen, feeling dissatisfied with both.
”Did you ever see potatoes that would beat them Elephants?”
said Barby.
”Never, certainly,” said Fleda, with a most involuntary smile.
”I never did,” said Barby. ”They beat all, for bigness and goodness both. I can't keep 'em together. There's thousands of 'em, and I mean to make Philetus eat 'em for supper ? such potatoes and milk is good enough for him, or anybody. The cow has gained on her milk wonderful, Fleda, since she begun to have them roots fed out to her.”
”Which cow?” said Fleda.