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"No," said he, quietly: "I've got my farm boots on. I guess I wont see anybody but you."
But Fleda would not suffer that; and finding she could not move him, she brought her aunt out into the kitchen. Mrs.
Rossitur's manner of speaking, and thanking him, quite charmed Seth, and he went away with a kindly feeling towards those gentle, bright eves, which he never forgot.
"Now, we've something for to-morrow, Hugh !" said Fleda; "and such a chicken-pie, I can tell you, as you never saw. Hugh, isn't it odd, how different a thing is in different circ.u.mstances? You don't know how glad I was when I put my hands upon that warm pie-dish, and knew what it was; and when did I ever care in New York about Emile's doings?"
"Except the almond gauffres," said Hugh, smiling.
"I never thought to be so glad of a chicken-pie," said Fleda, shaking her head.
Aunt Miriam's dish bore out Fleda's praise, in the opinion of all that tasted it; for such fowls, such b.u.t.ter, and such cream, as went to its composition, could hardly be known but in an unsophisticated state of society. But one pie could not last for ever; and as soon as the signs of dinner were got rid of, Thanksgiving-day though it was, poor Fleda was fain to go up the hill, to consult aunt Miriam about the possibility of getting "help."
"I don't know, dear Fleda," said she; "if you cannot get Lucy Flinn, I don't know who else there is you can get. Mrs. Toles wants both her daughters at home, I know, this winter, because she is sick; and Marietta Winchel is working at aunt Syra's. I don't know ? do you remember Barby Elster, that used to live with me?"
"O yes!"
"She might go ? she has been staying at home these two years, to take care of her old mother, that's the reason she left me; but she has another sister come home now ? Hetty, that married, and went to Montepoole; she's lost her husband and come home to live; so perhaps Barby would go out again. But I don't know ? how do you think your aunt Lucy would get along with her?"
"Dear aunt Miriam, you know we must do as we can. We must have somebody."
"Barby is a little quick," said Mrs. Plumfield, "but I think she is good-hearted, and she is thorough and faithful as the day is long. If your aunt and uncle can put up with her ways."
"I am sure we can, aunt Miriam. Aunt Lucy's the easiest person in the world to please; and I'll try and keep her away from uncle Rolf. I think we can get along. I know Barby used to like me."
"But then Barby knows nothing about French cooking, my child; she can do nothing but the common, country things. What will your uncle and aunt say to that?"
"I don't know," said Fleda, "but anything is better than nothing. I must try and do what she can't do. I'll come up and get you to teach me, aunt Miriam."
Aunt Miriam hugged and kissed her before speaking.
"I'll teach you what I know, my darling: ? and now we'll go right off and see Barby ? we shall catch her just in a good time."
It was a poor little unpainted house, standing back from the road, and with a double row of' boards laid down to serve as a path to it. But this board walk was scrubbed perfectly clean.
They went in without knocking. There was n.o.body there but an old woman seated before the fire, shaking all over with the St. Vitus's Dance. She gave them no salutation, calling instead on "Barby!" ? who presently made her appearance from the inner door.
"Barby! who's this?"
"That's Mis' Plumfield, mother," said the daughter, speaking loud as to a deaf person.
The old lady immediately got up and dropped a very quick and what was meant to be a very respect-showing courtesy, saying at the same time, with much deference, and with one of her involuntary twitches, "I ' 'maun ' to know!" The sense of the ludicrous and the feeling of pity together, were painfully oppressive. Fleda turned away to the daughter, who came forward and shook hands with a frank look of pleasure at the sight of her elder visitor.
"Barby," said Mrs. Plumfield, "this is little Fleda Ringgan ?
do you remember her?"
"I 'mind to know!" said Barby, transferring her hand to Fleda's, and giving it a good squeeze. "She's growed a fine gal, Mis' Plumfield. You ha'n't lost none of your good looks ?
- ha' you kept all your old goodness along with 'em?"
Fleda laughed at this abrupt question, and said she didn't know.
"If you ha'n't, I wouldn't give much for your eyes," said Barby, letting go her hand.
Mrs. Plumfield laughed too at Barby's equivocal mode of complimenting.
"Who's that young gal, Barby?" inquired Mrs. Elster.
"That's Mis' Plumfield's niece, mother."
"She's a handsome little creetur, aint she?"
They all laughed at that, and Fleda's cheeks growing crimson, Mrs. Plumfield stepped forward to ask after the old lady's health; and while she talked and listened, Fleda's eyes noted the spotless condition of the room ? the white table, the nice rag-carpet, the bright many-coloured patchwork counterpane on the bed, the brilliant cleanliness of the floor, where the small carpet left the boards bare, the tidy look of the two women; and she made up her mind that she could get along with Miss Barbara very well. Barby was rather tall, and in face decidedly a fine-looking woman, though her figure had the usual scantling proportions which nature or fas.h.i.+on a.s.signs to the hard-working dwellers in the country. A handsome, quick, gray eye, and the mouth, were sufficiently expressive of character, and perhaps of temper, but there were no lines of anything sinister or surly; you could imagine a flash, but not a cloud.
"Barby, you are not tied at home any longer, are you?" said.
Mrs. Plumfield, coming back from the old lady and speaking rather low; ? "now that Hetty is here, can't your mother spare you?"
"Well, I reckon she could, Mis' Plumfield, if I could work it so that she'd be more comfortable by my being away."
"Then you'd have no objection to go out again?"
"Where to?"
"Fleda's uncle, you know, has taken my brother's old place, and they have no help. They want somebody to take the whole management ? just you, Barby. Mrs. Rossitur isn't strong."
"Nor don't want to be, does she? I've heerd tell of her, Mis'
Plumfield ? I should despise to have as many legs and arms as other folks, and not be able to help myself!"
"But you wouldn't despise to help other folks, I hope," said Mrs. Plumfield, smiling.
"People that want you very much, too," said Fleda; for she quite longed to have that strong hand and healthy eye to rely upon at home. Barby looked at her with a relaxed face, and, after a little consideration, said she guessed "she'd try."
"Mis' Plumfield," cried the old lady, as they were moving ?
"Mis' Plumfield, you said you'd send me a piece of pork."
"I haven't forgotten it, Mrs. Elster ? you shall have it."
"Well, you get it out for me yourself," said the old woman, speaking very energetically ? "don't you send no one else to the barrel for't, because I know you'll give me the biggest piece."
Mrs. Plumfield laughed and promised.
"I'll come up and work it out some odd day," said the daughter, nodding intelligently, as she followed them to the door.
"We'll talk about that," said Mrs. Plumfield.
"She was wonderful pleased with the pie," said Barby, "and so was Hetty; she ha'n't seen anything so good, she says, since she quit Queechy."
"Well, Barby," said Mrs. Plumfield, as she turned and grasped her hand, "did you remember your thanksgiving over it?"
"Yes, Mis' Plumfield," and the fine grey eyes fell to the floor; "but I minded it only because it had come from you. I seemed to hear you saying just that out of every bone I picked."
"You minded my message," said the other, gently.