Queechy Volume Ii Part 5

"He doos not," said Philetus ? "he doosn't keep to hum for a long spell."

"Who does send them, then?" said Constance.

"Who doos? It's Miss Fliddy Ringgan."

"Mamma!" exclaimed Constance, looking up.

"What does she have to do with it?" said Mrs. Evelyn.

"There don't n.o.body else have nothin' to deu with it ? I guess she's pretty much the hull," said her coadjutor. "Her and me was a-picking 'em afore sunrise."

"All that basketful?"

" 't aint all strawberries ? there's garden sa.s.s up to the top."

"And does she send that, too?"

"She sends that teu," said Philetus, succinctly.

"But hasn't she any help in taking care of the garden?" said Constance.

"Yes, Marm ? I calculate to help considerable in the back garden ? she wont let no one into the front where she grows her posies."

"But where is Mr. Hugh?"

"He's to hum."

"But has he nothing to do with all this? Does he leave it all to his cousin?"

"He's to the mill."

"And Miss Ringgan manages farm, and garden, and all?" said Mrs. Evelyn.

"She doos," said Philetus.

And receiving a gratuity, which he accepted without demonstration of any kind whatever, the basket-bearer, at length released, moved off.

"Poor Fleda!" said Miss Evelyn, as he disappeared with his load.

"She's a very clever girl," said Mrs. Evelyn, dismissing the subject.

"She's too lovely for anything!" said Constance. "Mr.

Carleton, if you will just imagine we are in China, and introduct a pair of familiar chopsticks into this basket, I shall be repaid for the loss of a strawberry by the expression of ecstasy which will immediately spread itself over your features. I intend to patronize the natural mode of eating in future. I find the ends of my fingers decidedly odoriferous."

He smiled a little as he complied with the young lady's invitation, but the expression of ecstasy did not come.

"Are Mr. Rossitur's circ.u.mstances so much reduced?" he said, drawing nearer to Mrs. Evelyn.

"Do you know them?" exclaimed both the daughters at once.

"I knew Mrs. Rossitur very well some years ago, when she was in Paris."

"They are all broken to pieces," said Mrs. Evelyn, as Mr.

Carleton's eye went back to her for his answer; "Mr. Rossitur failed and lost everything ? bankrupt ? a year or two after they came home."

"And what has he been doing since?"

"I don't know ? trying to farm it here; but I am afraid he has not succeeded well ? I am afraid not. They don't look like it.

Mrs. Rossitur will not see anybody, and I don't believe they have done any more than struggle for a living since they came here."

"Where is Mr. Rossitur now?"

"He is at the West, somewhere ? Fleda tells me he is engaged in some agencies there; but I doubt," said Mrs. Evelyn, shaking her head, compa.s.sionately, "there is more in the name of it than anything else. He has gone down hill sadly since his misfortunes. I am very sorry for them."

"And his niece takes care of his farm in the meantime?"

"Do you know her?" asked both the Miss Evelyns again.

"I can hardly say that," he replied. "I had such a pleasure formerly. Do I understand that she is the person to fill Mr.

Rossitur's place when he is away?"

"So she says."

"And so she acts," said Constance. "I wish you had heard her yesterday. It was beyond everything. We were conversing very amicably, regarding each other through a friendly vista formed by the sugar-bowl and tea-pot, when a horrid man, that looked as if he had slept all his life in a hayc.o.c.k, and only waked up to turn it over, stuck his head in, and immediately introduced a clover-field; and Fleda and he went to tumbling about the c.o.c.ks till, I do a.s.sure you, I was deluded into a momentary belief that hay-making was the princ.i.p.al end of human nature, and looked upon myself as a burden to society; and after I had recovered my locality, and ventured upon a sentence of gentle commiseration for her sufferings, Fleda went off into a eulogium upon the intelligence of hay-makers in general, and the strength of mind barbarians are universally known to possess."

The manner, still more than the matter of this speech, was beyond the withstanding of any good-natured muscles, though the gentleman's smile was a grave one, and quickly lost in gravity. Mrs. Evelyn laughed and reproved in a breath, but the laugh was admiring, and the reproof was stimulative. The bright eye of Constance danced in return with the mischievous delight of a horse that has slipped his bridle and knows you can't catch him.

"And this has been her life ever since Mr. Rossitur lost his property?"

"Entirely, ? sacrificed!" said Mrs. Evelyn, with a compa.s.sionately resigned air; ? education, advantages, and everything given up, and set down here, where she has seen n.o.body from year's end to year's end but the country people about ? very good people ? but not the kind of people she ought to have been brought up among."

"Oh, Mamma!" said the eldest Miss Evelyn, in a deprecatory tone, "you shouldn't talk so ? it isn't right ? I am sure she is very nice ? nicer now than anybody else I know, and clever too."

"Nice!" said Edith. "I wish I had such a sister."

"She is a good girl? a very good girl," said Mrs. Evelyn, in a tone which would have deterred any one from wishing to make her acquaintance.

"And happy, Mamma ? Fleda don't look miserable ? she seems perfectly happy and contented."

"Yes," said Mrs. Evelyn, "she has got accustomed to this state of things ? it's her life ? she makes delicious bread and puddings for her aunt, and raises vegetables for market, and oversees her uncle's farmers; and it isn't a hardship to her ?

she finds her happiness in it. She is a very good girl, but she might have been made something much better than a farmer's wife."

"You may set your mind at rest on that subject, Mamma," said Constance, still using her chopsticks with great complacency; "it's my opinion that the farmer is not in existence who is blessed with such a conjugal futurity. I think Fleda's strong pastoral tastes are likely to develop themselves in a new direction."

Mrs. Evelyn looked, with a partial smile, at the pretty features which the business of eating the strawberries displayed in sundry novel and picturesque points of view, and asked what she meant?

"I don't know," said Constance, intent upon her basket; "I feel a friend's distress for Mr. Thorn ? it's all your doing, Mamma ? you wont be able to look him in the face when we have Fleda next fall. I am sure I shall not want to look at his.

He'll be too savage for anything."