Queechy Volume I Part 50

"Oh, part of the time in New York, and part of the time in Paris, and some other places."

"Well, you ha'n't seen anything better than Queechy, or Queechy bread and b.u.t.ter, have you?"

"No, indeed!"

"Come, you shall give me another kiss for that," said he, suiting the action to the word; "and now sit down and eat as much bread and b.u.t.ter as you can. It's just as good as it used to be. Come, mother, I guess breakfast is ready by the looks of that coffee-pot."

"Breakfast ready!" said Fleda.

"Ay indeed; it's a good half-hour since it ought to ha' been ready. If it aint, I can't stop for it. Them boys will be running their furrows like sarpents if I aint there to start them."

"Which like sarpents," said Fleda, ? "the furrows or the men?"

"Well, I was thinking of the furrows," said he, glancing at her. "I guess there aint cunning enough in the others to trouble them. Come, sit down, and let me see whether you have forgot a Queechy appet.i.te."

"I don't know," said Fleda, doubtfully; "they will expect me at home."

"I don't care who expects you ? sit down! you aint going to eat any bread and b.u.t.ter this morning but my mother's ? you haven't got any like it at your house. Mother, give her a cup of coffee, will you, and set her to work."

Fleda was too willing to comply with the invitation, were it only for the charm of old times. She had not seen such a table for years, and little as the conventionalities of delicate taste were known there, it was not without a comeliness of its own in its air of wholesome abundance and the extreme purity of all its arrangements. If but a piece of cold pork were on aunt Miriam's table, it was served with a nicety that would not have offended the most fastidious; and amid irregularities that the fastidious would scorn, there was a sound excellence of material and preparation that they very often fail to know.

Fleda made up her mind she would be wanted at home; all the rather, perhaps, for Hugh's mysterious "hush;" and there was something in the hearty kindness and truth of these friends that she felt particularly genial. And if there was a lack of silver at the board, its place was more than filled with the pure gold of a.s.sociation. They sat down to table, but aunt Miriam's eyes devoured Fleda. Mr. Plumfield set about his more material breakfast with all despatch.

"So Mr. Rossitur has left the city for good?" said aunt Miriam. "How does he like it?"

"He hasn't been here but a day, you know, aunt Miriam," said Fleda evasively.

"Is he anything of a farmer?" asked her cousin.

"Not much," said Fleda.

"Is he going to work the farm himself?"

"How do you mean?"

"I mean, is he going to work the farm himself, or hire it out, or let somebody else work it on shares?"

"I don't know," said Fleda ? "I think he is going to have a farmer, and oversee things himself."

"He'll get sick o' that," said Seth; "unless he's the luck to get hold of just the right hand."

"Has he hired anybody yet?" said aunt Miriam, after a little interval of supplying Fleda with "bread and b.u.t.ter."

"Yes, Ma'am, I believe so."

"What's his name?"

"Donohan ? an Irishman, I believe; uncle Rolf hired him in New York."

"For his head man?" said Seth, with a sufficiently intelligible look.

"Yes," said Fleda. "Why?"

But he did not immediately answer her.

"The land's in poor heart now," said he, "a good deal of it; it has been wasted; it wants first-rate management to bring it in order, and make much of it for two or three years to come.

I never see an Irishman's head yet that was worth more than a joke. Their hands are all of 'em that's good for anything."

"I believe uncle Rolf wants to have an American to go with this man," said Fleda.

Seth said nothing; but Fleda understood the shake of his head as he reached over after a pickle.

"Are you going to keep a dairy, Fleda?" said her aunt.

"I don't know, Ma'am ? I haven't heard anything about it."

"Does Mrs. Rossitur know anything about country affairs?"

"No ? nothing," Fleda said, her heart sinking perceptibly with every new question.

"She hasn't any cows yet?"

She? ? any cows! ? But Fleda only said they had not come; she believed they were coming.

"What help has she got?"

"Two women ? Irishwomen," said Fleda.

"Mother, you'll have to take hold and learn her," said Mr.

Plumfield.

"Teach her?" cried Fleda, repelling the idea ? "aunt Lucy? she cannot do anything ? she isn't strong enough; not anything of that kind."

"What did she come here for?" said Seth.

"You know," said his mother, "that Mr. Rossitur's circ.u.mstances obliged him to quit New York."

"Ay, but that aint my question. A man had better keep his fingers off anything he can't live by. A farm's one thing or t'other, just as it's worked. The land wont grow specie ? it must be fetched out of it. Is Mr. Rossitur a smart man?"

"Very," Fleda said, "about everything but farming."

"Well, if he'll put himself to school, maybe he'll learn,"

Seth concluded, as he finished his breakfast and went off.

Fleda rose too, and was standing thoughtfully by the fire, when aunt Miriam came up and put her arms round her. Fleda's eyes sparkled again.

"You're not changed ? you're the same little Fleda," she said.

"Not quite so little," said Fleda, smiling.