"Some bring a capon, some a rurall cake,
Some nuts, some apples; some that thinke they make
The better cheeses, bring 'hem; or else send
By their ripe daughters, whom they would commend
This way to husbands; and whose baskets beare
An embleme of themselves in plum or pears."
BEN JOHNSON.

So the time walked away for this family was not now of those "whom time runneth withal" to the second summer of Mr. Didenhover's term.

One morning Mrs. Rossitur was seated in the breakfast-room at her usual employment, mending and patching no sinecure now. Fleda opened the kitchen door and came in, folding up a calico apron she had just taken off.

"You are tired, dear," said Mrs. Rossitur, sorrowfully; you look pale."

"Do I?" said Fleda, sitting down. "I am a little tired!"

"Why do you do so?"

"Oh, it's nothing," said Fleda, cheerfully; "I haven't hurt myself. I shall be rested again in a few minutes."

"What have you been doing?"

"Oh, I tired myself a little before breakfast in the garden, I suppose. Aunt Lucy, don't you think I had almost a bushel of pease? and there was a little over a half bushel last-time, so I shall call it a bushel. Isn't that fine?"

"You didn't pick them all yourself?"

"Hugh helped me a little while; but he had the horse to get ready, and I was out before him this morning poor fellow, he was tired from yesterday, I dare say."

Mrs. Rossitur looked at her, a look between remonstrance and reproach, and cast her eves down without saying a word, swallowing a whole heartful of thoughts and feelings. Fleda stooped forward till her own forehead softly touched Mrs. Rossitur's, as gentle a chiding of despondency as a very sunbeam could have given.

"Now, aunt Lucy! what do you mean? Don't you know it's good for me? And do you know, Mr. Sweet will give me four shillings a bushel? and, aunt Lucy, I sent three dozen heads of lettuce this morning besides. Isn't that doing well? and I sent two dozen day before yesterday. It is time they were gone, for they are running up to seed, this set; I have got another fine set almost ready."

Mrs. Rossitur looked at her again, as if she had been a sort of terrestrial angel.

"And how much will you get for them?"

"I don't know exactly threepence, or sixpence, perhaps I guess not so much they are so easily raised; though I don't believe there are so fine as mine to be seen in this region. If I only had somebody to water the strawberries! we should have a great many. Aunt Lucy, I am going to send as many as I can without robbing uncle Rolf he sha'n't miss them; but the rest of us don't mind eating rather fewer than usual? I shall make a good deal by them. And I think these morning rides do Hugh good; don't you think so?"

"And what have you been busy about ever since breakfast,
Fleda?"

"Oh two or three things," said Fleda, lightly.

"What?"

"I had bread to make and then I thought, while my hands were in, I would make a custard for uncle Rolf."

"You needn't have done that, dear, it was not necessary."

"Yes it was, because, you know, we have only fried pork for dinner to-day; and while we have the milk and eggs, it doesn't cost much the sugar is almost nothing. He will like it better, and so will Hugh. As for you," said Fleda, gently touching her forehead again, "you know it is of no consequence!"

"I wish you would think yourself of some consequence," said
Mrs. Rossitur.

"Don't I think myself of consequence?" said Fleda, affectionately. "I don't know how you'd all get on without me. What do you think I have a mind to do now, by way of resting myself?"

"Well?" said Mrs. Rossitur, thinking of something else.

"It is the day for making presents to the minister, you know?"

"The minister? "

"Yes, the new minister they expect him to-day; you have heard of it; the things are all to be carried to his house to- day. I have a great notion to go and see the fun If I only had anything in the world I could possibly take with me "

"Aren't you too tired, dear?"

"No it would rest me; it is early yet; if I only had something to take! I couldn't go without taking something "

"A basket of eggs?" said Mrs. Rossitur.

"Can't, aunt Lucy I can't spare them; so many of the hens are setting now. A basket of strawberries! that's the thing! I've got enough picked for that and to-night too. That will do!"

Fleda's preparations were soon made, and with her basket on her arm she was ready to set forth.

"If pride had not been a little put down in me," she said, smiling, "I suppose I should rather stay at home than go with such a petty offering. And no doubt every one that sees it or hears of it will lay it to anything but the right reason. So much the world knows about the people it judges! It is too bad to leave you all alone, aunt Lucy."

Mrs. Rossitur pulled her down for a kiss a kiss in which how much was said on both sides! and Fleda set forth, choosing, as she very commonly did, the old-time way through the kitchen.

"Off again?" said Barby, who was on her knees scrubbing the great flag-stones of the hearth.

"Yes, I am going up to see the donation party."

"Has the minister come?"

"No, but he is coming to-day, I understand."

"He ha'n't preached for 'em yet, has he?"

"Not yet; I suppose he will next Sunday."

"They are in a mighty hurry to give him a donation party!" said Barby. "I'd a' waited till he was here first. I don't believe they'd be quite so spry with their donations if they had paid the last man up as they ought. I'd rather give a man what belongs to him, and make him presents afterwards."

"Why, so I hope they will, Barby," said Fleda, laughing. But
Barby said no more.

The parsonage-house was about a quarter of a mile, a little more, from the saw-mill, in a line at right angles with the main road. Fleda took Hugh from his work, to see her safe there. The road ran north, keeping near the level of the mid- hill, where it branched off a little below the saw-mill; and as the ground continued rising towards the east, and was well clothed with woods, the way, at this hour, was still pleasantly shady. To the left, the same slope of ground carried down to the foot of the hill gave them an uninterrupted view over a wide plain or bottom, edged in the distance with a circle of gently swelling hills. Close against the hills, in the far corner of the plain, lay the little village of Queechy Run, hid from sight by a slight intervening rise of ground. Not a chimney showed itself in the whole spread of country. A sunny landscape just now; but rich in picturesque associations of hay-cocks and win-rows, spotting it near and far; and close by below them was a field of mowers at work; they could distinctly hear the measured rush of the scythes through the grass, and then the soft clink of the rifles would seem to play some old delicious tune of childish days. Fleda made Hugh stand still to listen. It was a warm day, but "the sweet south that breathes upon a bank of violets" could hardly be more sweet than the air which, coming to them over the whole breadth of the valley, had been charged by the new-made hay.

"How good it is, Hugh," said Fleda, "that one can get out of doors, and forget everything that ever happened or ever will happen within four walls!"

"Do you?" said Hugh, rather soberly.

"Yes, I do even in my flower-patch, right before the house- door; but here" said Fleda, turning away, and swinging her basket of strawberries as she went, "I have no idea I ever did such a thing as make bread, and how clothes get mended I do not comprehend in the least!"

"And have you forgotten the pease and the asparagus too?"

"I am afraid you haven't, dear Hugh," said Fleda, linking her arm within his. "Hugh I must find some way to make money."

"More money!" said Hugh, smiling.

"Yes this garden business is all very well, but it doesn't come to any very great things after all, if you are aware of it; and Hugh, I want to get aunt Lucy a new dress. I can't bear to see her in that old merino, and it isn't good for her. Why, Hugh, she couldn't possibly see anybody, if anybody should come to the house."

"Who is there to come?" said Hugh.

"Why, nobody; but still, she ought not to be so."

"What more can you do, dear Fleda? You work a great deal too hard already," said Hugh, sighing. "You should have seen the way father and mother looked at you last night when you were asleep on the sofa."

Fleda stifled her sigh, and went on.

"I am sure there are things that might be done things for the booksellers translating, or copying, or something I don't know exactly I have heard of people's doing such things. I mean to write to uncle Orrin, and ask him. I am sure he can manage it for me."

"What were you writing the other night?" said Hugh, suddenly.

"When!"

"The other night when you were writing by the fire-light? I saw your pencil scribbling away at a furious rate over the paper, and you kept your hand up carefully between me and your face, but I could see it was something very interesting. Ha!" said Hugh, laughingly trying to get another view of Fleda's face which was again kept from him. "Send that to uncle Orrin, Fleda; or show it to me first, and then I will tell you."

Fleda made no answer; and at the parsonage-door Hugh left her.

Two or three wagons were standing there, but nobody to be seen. Fleda went up the steps and crossed the broad piazza, brown and unpainted, but picturesque still, and guided by the sound of tongues turned to the right, where she found a large low room, the very centre of the stir. But the stir had not by any means reached the height yet. Not more than a dozen people were gathered. Here were aunt Syra and Mrs. Douglass, appointed a committee to receive and dispose the offerings as they were brought in.

"Why, there is not much to be seen yet," said Fleda. "I did not know I was so early."

"Time enough," said Mrs. Douglass. "They'll come the thicker when they do come. Good morning, Dr. Quackenboss! I hope you're a-going to give us something else besides a bow? and I wont take none of your physic neither."

"I humbly submit," said the doctor, graciously, "that nothing ought to be expected of gentlemen that a are so unhappy as to be alone; for they really a have nothing to give but themselves."

There was a shout of merriment.

"And suppos'n that's a gift that nobody wants?" said Mrs.
Douglass's sharp eye and voice at once.

"In that case," said the doctor, "I really Miss Ringgan, may
I a may I relieve your hand of this fair burden?"

"It is not a very fair burden, Sir," said Fleda, laughing, and relinquishing her strawberries.

"Ah, but, fair, you know, I mean we speak in that sense Mrs. Douglass, here is by far the most elegant offering that your hands will have the honour of receiving this day."

"I hope so," said Mrs. Douglass, "or there wont be much to eat for the minister. Did you never take notice how elegant things somehow made folks grow poor?"

"I guess he'd as lieve see something a little substantial," said aunt Syra.

"Well, now," said the doctor, "here is Miss Ringgan, who is unquestionably a elegant! and I am sure nobody will say that she looks poor."

In one sense, surely not! There could not be two opinions. But with all the fairness of health, and the flush which two or three feelings had brought to her cheeks, there was a look as if the workings of the mind had refined away a little of the strength of the physical frame, and as if growing poor in Mrs. Douglass's sense that is, thin, might easily be the next step.

"What's your uncle going to give us, Fleda?" said aunt Syra.

But Fleda was saved replying; for Mrs. Douglass, who, if she was sharp, could be good-natured too, and had watched to see how Fleda took the double fire upon elegance and poverty, could bear no more trial of that sweet gentle face. Without giving her time to answer, she carried her off to see the things already stored in the closet, bidding the doctor, over her shoulder, "be off after his goods, whether he had got 'em or no."

There was certainly a promising beginning made for the future minister's comfort. One shelf was already completely stocked with pies, and another showed a quantity of cake, and biscuits enough to last a good-sized family for several meals.

"That is always the way," said Mrs. Douglass; "it's the strangest thing that folks has no sense! Now, one half o' them pies 'll be dried up afore they can eat the rest; 't aint much loss, for Mis' Prin sent 'em down, and if they are worth anything, it's the first time anything ever come out of her house that was. Now look at them biscuit!"

"How many are coming to eat them?" said Fleda.

"How?"

"How large a family has the minister?"

"He ha'n't a bit of a family! He ain't married."

"Not!"

At the grave way in which Mrs. Douglass faced round upon her and answered, and at the idea of a single mouth devoted to all that closetful Fleda's gravity gave place to most uncontrollable merriment.

"No," said Mrs. Douglass, with a curious twist of her mouth, but commanding herself, "he aint, to be sure, not yet. He ha'n't any family but himself and some sort of a housekeeper, I suppose; they'll divide the house between 'em."

"And the biscuits, I hope," said Fleda. "But what will he do with all the other things, Mrs. Douglass?"

"Sell 'em if he don't want 'em," said Mrs. Douglass, quizzically. "Shut up, Fleda, I forget who sent them biscuit somebody that calculated to make a show for a little, I reckon. My sakes! I believe it was Mis' Springer herself! she didn't hear me though," said Mrs. Douglass, peeping out of the half-open door. "It's a good thing the world aint all alike; there's Mis' Plumfield stop now, and I'll tell you all she sent; that big jar of lard, there's as good as eighteen or twenty pound and that basket of eggs, I don't know how many there is and that cheese, a real fine one, I'll be bound, she wouldn't pick out the worst in her dairy; and Seth fetched down a hundred weight of corn meal, and another of rye flour; now, that's what I call doing things something like; if everybody else would keep up their end as well as they keep up their'n, the world wouldn't be quite so one-sided as it is. I never see the time yet when I couldn't tell where to find Mis' Plumfield."

"No, nor anybody else," said Fleda, looking happy.

"There's Mis' Silbert couldn't find nothing better to send than a kag of soap," Mrs. Douglass went on, seeming very much amused; "I was beat when I saw that walk in! I should think she'd feel streaked to come here by and by, and see it a- standing between Mis' Plumfield's lard and Mis' Clavering's pork that's a handsome kag of pork, aint it? What's that man done with your strawberries? I'll put 'em up here, afore somebody takes a notion to 'em. I'll let the minister know who he's got to thank for 'em," said she, winking at Fleda. "Where's Dr. Quackenboss?"

"Coming, Ma'am!" sounded from the hall, and forthwith, at the open door, entered the doctor's head, simultaneously with a large cheese, which he was rolling before him, the rest of the doctor's person being thrown into the background in consequence a curious natural representation of a wheelbarrow, the wheel being the only artificial part.

"Oh! that's you, doctor, is it?" said Mrs. Douglass.

"This is me, Ma'am," said the doctor, rolling up to the closet door; "this has the honour to be a myself, bringing my service to the feet of Miss Ringgan."

" 'Tain't very elegant," said the sharp lady.

Fleda thought if his service was at her feet, her feet should be somewhere else, and accordingly stepped quietly out of the way, and went to one of the windows, from whence she could have a view both of the comers and the come; and by this time, thoroughly in the spirit of the thing, she used her eyes upon both with great amusement. People were constantly arriving now, in wagons and on foot; and stores of all kinds were most literally pouring in. Bags, and even barrels of meal, flour, pork, and potatoes; strings of dried apples, salt, hams, and beef; hops, pickles, vinegar, maple-sugar and molasses; rolls of fresh butter, cheese, and eggs; cake, bread, and pies, without end. Mr. Penny, the storekeeper, sent a box of tea. Mr. Winegar, the carpenter, a new ox-sled. Earl Douglass brought a handsome axe-helve of his own fashioning; his wife, a quantity of rolls of wool. Zan Finn carted a load of wood into the wood-shed, and Squire Thornton another. Home-made candles, custards, preserves, and smoked liver, came in a batch from two or three miles off, up on the mountain. Half-a- dozen chairs from the factory-man; half-a-dozen brooms from the other storekeeper at the Deepwater settlement; a carpet for the best room from the ladies of the township, who had clubbed forces to furnish it and a home-made concern it was, from the shears to the loom.

The room was full now, for every one, after depositing his gift, turned aside to see what others had brought and were bringing; and men and women, the young and old, had their several circles of gossip in various parts of the crowd. Apart from them all Fleda sat in her window, probably voted "elegant" by others than the doctor, for they vouchsafed her no more than a transitory attention, and sheered off to find something more congenial. She sat watching the people, smiling very often as some odd figure, or look, or some peculiar turn of expression or tone of voice, caught her ear or her eye.

Both ear and eye were fastened by a young countryman, with a particularly fresh face, whom she saw approaching the house. He came up on foot, carrying a single fowl slung at his back by a stick thrown across his shoulder, and, without stirring hat or stick, he came into the room, and made his way through the crowd of people, looking to the one hand and the other, evidently in a maze of doubt to whom he should deliver himself and his chicken, till brought up by Mrs. Douglass's sharp voice.

"Well, Philetus, what are you looking for?"

"Do, Mis' Douglass!" it is impossible to express the abortive attempt at a bow which accompanied this salutation "I want to know if the minister 'll be in town to-day."

"What do you want of him?"

"I don't want nothin' of him. I want to know if he'll be in town to-day?"

"Yes; I expect he'll be along directly. Why, what then?"

" 'Cause I've got teu chickens for him here, and mother said they hadn't ought to be kept no longer, and if he wan't to hum, I were to fetch 'em back, straight."

"Well, he'll be here, so let's have 'em," said Mrs. Douglass, biting her lips.

"What's become o' t'other one?" said Earl, as the young man's stick was brought round to the table: "I guess you've lost it, ha'n't you?"

"My gracious!" was all Philetus's powers were equal to. Mrs. Douglass went off into fits, which rendered her incapable of speaking, and left the unlucky chicken-bearer to tell his story his own way, but all he brought forth was, "Du tell! I am beat!"

"Where's t'other one?" said Mrs. Douglass, between paroxysms.

"Why, I ha'n't done nothin' to it," said Philetus, dismally; "there was teu on 'em afore I started, and I took and tied 'em together, and hitched 'em onto the stick, and that one must ha' loosened itself off some way I believe the darned thing did it o' purpose."

"I guess your mother knowed that one wouldn't keep till it got here," said Mrs. Douglass.

The room was now all one shout, in the midst of which poor Philetus took himself off as speedily as possible. Before Fleda had dried her eyes, her attention was taken by a lady and gentleman who had just got out of a vehicle of more than the ordinary pretension, and were coming up to the door. The gentleman was young the lady was not; both had a particularly amiable and pleasant appearance; but about the lady there was something that moved Fleda singularly, and, somehow, touched the spring of old memories, which she felt stirring at the sight of her. As they neared the house she lost them; then they entered the room and came through it slowly, looking about them with an air of good-humoured amusement. Fleda's eye was fixed, but her mind puzzled itself in vain to recover what, in her experience, had been connected with that fair and lady-like physiognomy, and the bland smile that was overlooked by those acute eyes. The eyes met hers, and then seemed to reflect her doubt, for they remained as fixed as her own, while the lady, quickening her steps, came up to her.

"I am sure," she said, holding out her hand, and with a gentle graciousness that was very agreeable, "I am sure you are somebody I know. What is your name?"

"Fleda Ringgan."

"I thought so!" said the lady, now shaking her hand warmly, and kissing her; "I knew nobody could have been your mother but Amy Charlton! How like her you look! Don't you know me? don't you remember Mrs. Evelyn?"

"Mrs. Evelyn!" said Fleda, the whole coming back to her at once.

"You remember me now? How well I recollect you! and all that old time at Montepoole. Poor little creature that you were! and dear little creature, as I am sure you have been ever since! And how is your dear aunt Lucy?"

Fleda answered that she was well.

"I used to love her very much that was before I knew you before she went abroad. We have just got home this spring; and now we are staying at Montepoole for a few days. I shall come and see her to-morrow I knew you were somewhere in this region, but I did not know exactly where to find you; that was one reason why I came here to-day, I thought I might hear something of you. And where are your aunt Lucy's children? and how are they?"

"Hugh is at home," said Fleda, "and rather delicate Charlton is in the army."

"In the army! In Mexico! "

"In Mexico he has been "

"Your poor aunt Lucy!"

" In Mexico he has been, but he is just coming home now he has been wounded, and he is coming home to spend a long furlough."

"Coming home. That will make you all very happy. And Hugh is delicate; and how are you, love? you hardly look like a country-girl. Mr. Olmney!" said Mrs. Evelyn, looking round for her companion, who was standing quietly a few steps off, surveying the scene. "Mr. Olmney! I am going to do you a favour, Sir, in introducing you to Miss Ringgan, a very old friend of mine. Mr. Olmney, these are not exactly the apple- cheeks and robustious demonstrations we are taught to look for in country-land."

This was said with a kind of sly funny enjoyment, which took away everything disagreeable from the appeal; but Fleda conceived a favourable opinion of the person to whom it was made from the fact that he paid her no compliment, and made no answer beyond a very pleasant smile.

"What is Mrs. Evelyn's definition of a very old friend?" said he, with another smile, as that lady moved off to take a more particular view of what she had come to see. "To judge by the specimen before me, I should consider it very equivocal."

"Perhaps Mrs. Evelyn counts friendships by inheritance," said
Fleda. "I think they ought to be counted so."

" 'Thine own friend, and thy father's friend, forsake not,' " said the young man.

Fleda looked up and smiled a pleased answer.

"There is something very lovely in the faithfulness of tried friendship, and very uncommon."

"I know that it is uncommon only by hearsay," said Fleda. "I have so many good friends."

He was silent for an instant, possibly thinking there might be a reason for that, unknown only to Fleda herself.

"Perhaps one must be in peculiar circumstances to realize it," he said, sighing; "circumstances that leave one of no importance to any one in the world. But it is a kind lesson, one learns to depend more on the one friendship that can never disappoint."

Fleda's eyes again gave an answer of sympathy; for she thought from the shade that had come upon his face, that these circumstances had probably been known to himself.

"This is rather an amusing scene," he remarked presently, in a low tone.

"Very," said Fleda. "I have never seen such a one before."

"Nor I," said he. "It is a pleasant scene, too; it is pleasant to see so many evidences of kindness and good feeling on the part of all these people."

"There is all the more show of it, I suppose, to-day," said Fleda, "because we have a new minister coming; they want to make a favourable impression."

"Does the old proverb of the 'new broom' hold good here too?" said he, smiling. "What's the name of your new minister?"

"I am not certain," said Fleda; "there were two talked of; the
last I heard was, that it was an old Mr. Carey; but from what
I hear this morning, I suppose it must be the other a Mr.
Ollum, or some such queer name, I believe."

Fleda thought her hearer looked very much amused, and followed his eye into the room, where Mrs. Evelyn was going about in all quarters looking at everything, and finding occasion to enter into conversation with at least a quarter of the people who were present. Whatever she was saying, it seemed at that moment to have something to do with them, for sundry eyes turned in their direction; and presently Dr. Quackenboss came up, with even more than common suavity of manner.

"I trust Miss Ringgan will do me the favour of making me acquainted with a with our future pastor!" said the doctor, looking, however, not at all at Miss Ringgan, but straight at the pastor in question. "I have great pleasure in giving you the first welcome, Sir or, I should say, rather the second; since, no doubt, Miss Ringgan has been in advance of me. It is not un a appropriate, Sir, for I may say we a divide the town between us. You are, I am sure, a worthy representative of Peter and Paul; and I am a a pupil of Esculapius, Sir! You are the intellectual physician, and I am the external."

"I hope we shall both prove ourselves good workmen, Sir," said the young minister, shaking the doctor's hand heartily.

"This is Dr. Quackenboss; Mr. Olmney," said Fleda, making a tremendous effort. But though she could see corresponding indications about her companion's eyes and mouth, she admired the kindness and self-command with which he listened to the doctor's civilities and answered them; expressing his grateful sense of the favours received, not only from him, but from others.

"Oh a little to begin with," said the doctor, looking round upon the room, which would certainly have furnished that for fifty people; "I hope we aint done yet by considerable But here is Miss Ringgan, Mr. a Ummin, that has brought you some of the fruits of her own garden, with her own fair hands a basket of fine strawberries, which, I am sure a will make you forget everything else!"

Mr. Olmney had the good-breeding not to look at Fleda, as he answered, "I am sure the spirit of kindness was the same in all, Dr. Quackenboss, and I trust not to forget that readily."

Others now came up; and Mr. Olmney was walked off to be "made acquainted" with all, or with all the chief of his parishioners then and there assembled. Fleda watched him going about, shaking hands, talking and smiling, in all directions, with about as much freedom of locomotion as a fly in a spider's web; till, at Mrs. Evelyn's approach, the others fell off a little, and taking him by the arm, she rescued him.

"My dear Mr. Olmney," she whispered, with an intensely amused face, "I shall have a vision of you every day for a month to come, sitting down to dinner, with a rueful face, to a whortleberry pie; for there are so many of them, your conscience will not let you have anything else cooked, you cannot manage more than one a day."

"Pies!" said the young gentleman, as Mrs. Evelyn left talking, to indulge her feelings in ecstatic quiet laughing "I have a horror of pies!"

"Yes, yes," said Mrs. Evelyn, nodding her head delightedly, as she drew him towards the pantry "I know! Come and see what is in store for you. You are to do penance for a month to come with tin pans of blackberry jam, fringed with pie crust no, they can't be blackberries, they must be raspberries, the blackberries are not ripe yet. And you may sup upon cake and custards, unless you give the custards for the little pig out there, he will want something."

"A pig!" said Mr. Olmney, in amaze Mrs. Evelyn again giving out in distress. "A pig!" said Mr. Olmney.

"Yes, a pig a very little one," said Mrs. Evelyn, convulsively. "I am sure he is hungry now."

They had reached the pantry, and Mr. Olmney's face was all that was wanting to Mrs. Evelyn's delight. How she smothered it, so that it should go no further than to distress his self- command, is a mystery known only to the initiated. Mrs. Douglass was forthwith called into council.

"Mrs. Douglass," said Mr. Olmney, "I feel very much inclined to play the host, and beg my friends to share with me some of these good things they have been so bountifully providing."

"He would enjoy them much more than he would alone, Mrs.
Douglass," said Mrs. Evelyn, who still had hold of Mr.
Olmney's arm, looking round to the lady with a most benign
face.

"I reckon some of 'em would be past enjoying by the time he got to 'em, wouldn't they?" said the lady. "Well, they'll have to take 'em in their fingers, for our crockery ha'n't come yet I shall have to jog Mr. Flatt's elbow; but hungry folks aint curious."

"In their fingers, or any way, provided you have only a knife to cut them with," said Mr. Olmney, while Mrs. Evelyn squeezed his arm in secret mischief; "and pray, if we can muster two knives, let us cut one of these cheeses, Mrs. Douglass."

And presently Fleda saw pieces of pie walking about in all directions, supported by pieces of cheese. And then Mrs. Evelyn and Mr. Olmney came out from the pantry and came towards her, the latter bringing her, with his own hands, a portion in a tin pan. The two ladies sat down in the window together to eat and be amused.

"My dear Fleda, I hope you are hungry," said Mrs. Evelyn, biting her pie, Fleda could not help thinking, with an air of good-humoured condescension.

"I am, Ma'am," she said, laughing.

"You look just as you used to do," Mrs. Evelyn went on, earnestly.

"Do I?" said Fleda, privately thinking that the lady must have good eyes for features of resemblance.

"Except that you have more colour in your cheeks and more sparkles in your eyes. Dear little creature that you were; I want to make you know my children. Do you remember that Mr. and Mrs. Carleton that took such care of you at Montepoole?"

"Certainly I do! very well."

"We saw them last winter; we were down at their country place in shire. They have a magnificent place there everything you can think of to make life pleasant. We spent a week with them. My dear Fleda, I wish I could show you that place! you never saw anything like it."

Fleda ate her pie.

"We have nothing like it in this country; of course, cannot have. One of those superb English country seats is beyond even the imagination of an American."

"Nature has been as kind to us, hasn't she?" said Fleda.

"O yes; but such fortunes, you know. Mr. Olmney, what do you think of those overgrown fortunes? I was speaking to Miss Ringgan just now of a gentleman who has forty thousand pounds a year income sterling, Sir; forty thousand pounds a year sterling. Somebody says, you know, that 'he who has more than enough is a thief of the rights of his brother' what do you think?"

But Mr. Olmney's attention was at the moment forcibly called off by the "income" of a parishioner.

"I suppose," said Fleda, "his thievish character must depend entirely on the use he makes of what he has."

"I don't know," said Mrs. Evelyn, shaking her head; "I think the possession of great wealth is very hardening."

"To a fine nature?" said Fleda.

Mrs. Evelyn shook her head again, but did not seem to think it worth while to reply; and Fleda was trying the question in her own mind whether wealth or poverty might be the most hardening in its effects; when Mr. Olmney, having succeeded in getting free again, came and took his station beside them, and they had a particularly pleasant talk, which Fleda, who had seen nobody in a great while, enjoyed very much. They had several such talks in the course of the day; for though the distractions caused by Mr. Olmney's other friends were many and engrossing, he generally contrived in time to find his way back to their window. Meanwhile, Mrs. Evelyn had a great deal to say to Fleda, and to hear from her; and left her at last under an engagement to spend the next day at the Pool.

Upon Mr. Olmney's departure with Mrs. Evelyn, the attraction which had held the company together was broken, and they scattered fast. Fleda presently finding herself in the minority, was glad to set out with Miss Anastasia Finn, and her sister Lucy, who would leave her but very little way from her own door. But she had more company than she bargained for. Dr. Quackenboss was pleased to attach himself to their party, though his own shortest road certainly lay in another direction; and Fleda wondered what he had done with his wagon, which, beyond a question, must have brought the cheese in the morning. She edged herself out of the conversation as much as possible, and hoped it would prove so agreeable that he would not think of attending her home. In vain. When they made a stand at the cross roads the doctor stood on her side.

"I hope now you've made a commencement, you will come to see us again, Fleda," said Miss Lucy.

"What's the use of asking?" said her sister, abruptly. "If she has a mind to, she will, and if she ha'n't, I am sure we don't want her."

They turned off.

"Those are excellent people," said the doctor, when they were beyond hearing; "really respectable!"

"Are they?" said Fleda.

"But your goodness does not look, I am sure, to find a
Parisian graces in so remote a circle?"

"Certainly not," said Fleda.

"We have had a genial day!" said the doctor, quitting the
Finns.

"I don't know," said Fleda, permitting a little of her inward merriment to work off; "I think it has been rather too hot."

"Yes," said the doctor, "the sun has been ardent; but I referred rather to the a to the warming of affections, and the pleasant exchange of intercourse on all sides which has taken place. How do you like our a the stranger?"

"Who, Sir?"

"The new-comer this young Mr. Ummin?"

Fleda answered, but she hardly knew what, for she was musing whether the doctor would go away or come in. They reached the door, and Fleda invited him, with terrible effort after her voice; the doctor having just blandly offered an opinion upon the decided polish of Mr. Olmney's manners.