Queechy Volume I Part 88

"To make little spouts, you know, for the sap to run in. And then, my dear Hugh, they must be sharpened at one end so as to fit where the chisel goes in. I am afraid I have given you a day's work of it. How sorry I am you must go to-morrow to the mill! ? and yet I am glad too."

"Why need you go round yourself with these people?" said Hugh.

"I don't see the sense of it."

"They don't know where the trees are," said Fleda.

"I am sure I do not. Do you?"

"Perfectly well. And besides," said Fleda, laughing, "I should have great doubts of the discreetness of Philetus's auger if it were left to his simple direction. I have no notion the trees would yield their sap as kindly to him as to me. But I didn't bargain for Dr. Quackenboss."

Dr. Quackenboss arrived punctually the next morning with his oxen and sled; and, by the time it was loaded with the sap- troughs, Fleda, in her black cloak, yarn shawl, and grey little hood, came out of the house to the wood-yard. Earl Dougla.s.s was there, too, not with his team, but merely to see how matters stood, and give advice.

"Good day, Mr. Dougla.s.s!" said the doctor. "You see I'm so fortunate as to have got the start of you."

"Very good," said Earl, contentedly; "you may have it: the start's one thing, and the pull's another. I'm willin' anybody should have the start, but it takes a pull to know whether a man's got stuff in him or no."

"What do you mean?" said the doctor.

"I don't mean nothin' at all. You make a start to-day, and I'll come ahint and take the pull to-morrow. Ha' you got anythin' to boil down in, Fleda? There's a potash kittle somewheres, aint there? I guess there is. There is in most houses."

"There is a large kettle ? I suppose large enough," said Fleda.

"That'll do, I guess. Well, what do you calculate to put the syrup in? Ha' you got a good big cask, or plenty o' tubs and that? or will you sugar off the hull lot every night, and fix it that way? You must do one thing or t'other, and it's good to know what you're a-going to do afore you come to do it."

"I don't know, Mr. Dougla.s.s," said Fleda. "Whichever is the best way: we have no cask large enough, I am afraid."

"Well, I tell you what I'll do. I know where there's a tub, and where they aint usin' it, nother, and I reckon I can get 'em to let me have it ? I reckon I can; and I'll go round for't and fetch it here to-morrow mornin' when I come with the team. 'Twont be much out of my way. It's more handier to leave the sugarin' off till the next day; and it had ought to have a settlin' besides. Where'll you have your fire built? ? in doors or out?"

"Out, I would rather, if we can. But can we?"

"La! 'tain't nothin' easier; it's as easy out as in. All you've got to do is to take and roll a couple of pretty sized billets for your fireplace, and stick a couple o' crotched sticks for to hang the kittle over: I'd as lieve have it out as in, and if anythin', a leetle liever. If you'll lend me Philetus, me and him 'll fix it all ready agin you come back; 'tain't no trouble at all; and if the sticks aint here, we'll go into the woods after 'em, and have it all sot up."

But Fleda represented that the services of Philetus were just then in requisition, and that there would be no sap brought home till to-morrow.

"Very good!" said Earl, amicably ? "_very_ good! it's just as easy done one day as another ? it don't make no difference to me: and if it makes any difference to you, of course, we'll leave it to-day, and there'll be time enough to do it to- morrow. Me and him 'll knock it up in a whistle. What's them little shingles for?"

Fleda explained the use and application of Hugh's mimic spouts. He turned one about, whistling, while he listened to her.

"That's some o' Seth Plumfield's new jigs, aint it? I wonder if he thinks now the sap's a-goin' to run any sweeter out o'

that 'ere than it would off the end of a chip that wa'n't quite so handsome?"

"No, Mr. Dougla.s.s," said Fleda smiling, "he only thinks that this will catch a little more."

"His sugar wont never tell where it come from," remarked Earl, throwing the spout down. "Well, you shall see more o' me to- morrow. Good-bye, Dr. Quackenboss."

"Do you contemplate the refining process?" said the doctor, as they moved off.

"I have often contemplated the want of it," said Fleda; "but it is best not to try to do too much. I should like to make sure of something worth refining in the first place."

"Mr. Dougla.s.s and I," said the doctor ? "I hope ? a ? he's a very good-hearted man, Miss Fleda, but, ha! ha! ? he wouldn't suffer loss from a little refining himself. Haw! you rascal ?

where are you going? Haw! I tell ye" ?

"I am very sorry, Dr. Quackenboss," said Fleda, when she had the power and the chance to speak again ? "I am very sorry you should have to take this trouble; but, unfortunately, the art of driving oxen is not among Mr. Skillcorn's accomplishments."

"My dear Miss Ringgan!" said the doctor, "I ? I ? nothing, I a.s.sure you, could give me greater pleasure than to drive my oxen to any place where you would like to have them go."

Poor Fleda wished she could have despatched them and him in one direction while she took another; the art of driving oxen _quietly_ was certainly not among the doctor's accomplishments.

She was almost deafened. She tried to escape from the immediate din by running before to show Philetus about tapping the trees and fixing the little spouts, but it was a longer operation than she had counted upon, and by the time they were ready to leave the tree the doctor was gee-hawing alongside of it; and then if the next maple was not within sight she could not in decent kindness leave him alone. The oxen went slowly, and though Fleda managed to have no delay longer than to throw down a trough as the sled came up with each tree which she and Philetus had tapped, the business promised to make a long day of it. It might have been a pleasant day in pleasant company; but Fleda's spirits were down to set out with, and Doctor Quackenboss was not the person to give them the needed spring; his long-winded complimentary speeches had not interest enough even to divert her. She felt that she was entering upon an untried and most weighty undertaking; charging her time and thoughts with a burden they could well spare. Her energies did not flag, but the spirit that should have sustained them was not strong enough for the task.

It was a bl.u.s.tering day of early March, with that uncompromising brightness of sky and land which has no shadow of sympathy with a heart overcast. The snow still lay a foot thick over the ground, thawing a little in sunny spots; the trees quite bare and brown, the buds even of the early maples hardly showing colour; the blessed evergreens alone doing their utmost to redeem the waste, and speaking of patience and fort.i.tude that can brave the blast and outstand the long waiting, and cheerfully bide the time when "the winter shall be over and gone." Poor Fleda thought they were like her in their circ.u.mstances, but she feared she was not like them in their strong endurance. She looked at the pines and hemlocks as she pa.s.sed, as if they were curious preachers to her; and when she had a chance, she prayed quietly that she might stand faithfully like them to cheer a desolation far worse, and she feared far more abiding than snows could make or melt away.

She thought of Hugh, alone in his mill-work that rough chilly day, when the wind stalked through the woods and over the country as if it had been the personification of March just come of age and taking possession of his domains. She thought of her uncle, doing what? ? in Michigan ? leaving them to fight with difficulties as they might ? why? ? why? and her gentle aunt at home sad and alone, pining for the want of them all, but most of him, and fading with their fortunes. And Fleda's thoughts travelled about from one to the other, and dwelt with them all by turns till she was heart-sick; and tears, tears fell hot on the snow many a time when her eyes had a moment's shield from the doctor and his somewhat more obtuse coadjutor. She felt half superst.i.tiously, as if with her taking the farm were beginning the last stage of their falling prospects, which would leave them with none of hope's colouring. Not that in the least she doubted her own ability and success; but her uncle did not deserve to have his affairs prosper under such a system, and she had no faith that they would.

"It is most grateful," said the doctor, with that sideway twist of his jaw and his head at once, in harmony ? "it is a most grateful thing to see such a young lady ? Haw! there now!

? what are you about? ? haw ? haw? then! It is a most grateful thing to see ?"

But Fleda was not at his side ? she had bounded away and was standing under a great maple-tree a little a-head, making sure that Philetus screwed his auger _up_ into the tree instead of _down_, which he had several times shown an unreasonable desire to do. The doctor had steered his oxen by her little grey hood and black cloak all the day. He made for it now.

"Have we arrived at the termination of our ? a ? adventure?"

said he, as he came up and threw down the last trough.

"Why, no, Sir," said Fleda, "for we have yet to get home again."

" 'Tain't so fur going that way as it were this'n," said Philetus. "My! aint I glad?"

"Glad of what?" said the doctor. "Here's Miss Ringgan's walked the whole way, and she a lady ? aint you ashamed to speak of being tired?"

"I ha'n't said the first word o' being tired!" said Philetus, in an injured tone of voice ? "but a man ha'n't no right to kill hisself, if he aint a gal!"

"I'll qualify to your being safe enough," said the doctor.

"But, Miss Ringgan, my dear, you are ? a ? you have lost something since you came out ?"

"What?" said Fleda, laughing. "Not my patience?"

"No," said the doctor, "no ? you're ? a ? you're an angel! but your cheeks, my dear Miss Ringgan, show that you have exceeded your ? a ?"

"Not my intentions, doctor," said Fleda, lightly. "I am very well satisfied with our day's work, and with my share of it, and a cup of coffee will make me quite up again. Don't look at my cheeks till then."

"I shall disobey you constantly," said the doctor; "but, my dear Miss Fleda, we must give you some felicities for reaching home, or Mrs. Rossitur will be ? a ? distressed when she sees them. Might I propose ? that you should just bear your weight on this wood-sled, and let my oxen and me have the honour ?

The cup of coffee, I am confident, would be at your lips considerably earlier ?"

"The sun wont be a great haighth by the time we get there,"

said Philetus, in a cynical manner; "and I ha'n't took the first thing to-day!"

"Well, who has?" said the doctor; "you aint the only one.

Follow your nose down hill, Mr. Skillcorn, and it'll smell supper directly. Now, my dear Miss Ringgan, will you?"

Fleda hesitated, but her relaxed energies warned her not to despise a homely mode of relief. The wood-sled was pretty clean, and the road decently good over the snow. So Fleda gathered her cloak about her, and sat down flat on the bottom of her rustic vehicle ? too grateful for the rest to care if there had been a dozen people to laugh at her ? but the doctor was only delighted, and Philetus regarded every social phenomenon as coolly, and in the same business light, as he would the b.u.t.ter to his bread, or any other infallible every- day matter.

Fleda was very glad presently that she had taken this plan, for, besides the rest of body, she was happily relieved from all necessity of speaking. The doctor, though but a few paces off, was perfectly given up to the care of his team, in the intense anxiety to show his skill and gallantry in saving her harmless from every ugly place in the road that threatened a jar or a plunge. Why his oxen didn't go distracted was a question; but the very vehemence and iteration of his cries at last drowned itself in Fleda's ear, and she could hear it like the wind's roaring, without thinking of it. She presently subsided to that. With a weary frame, and with that peculiar quietness of spirits that comes upon the ending of a day's work in which mind and body have both been busily engaged, and the sudden ceasing of any call upon either, fancy asked no leave, and dreamily roved hither and thither between the material and the spirit world; the will too subdued to stir.