It was impossible, it was impossible, to do dishonour
to all this hospitality and kindness and pride that
was brought out for them. Early or late, they
must eat, in mere gratitude. The difficulty was
to avoid eating everything. Hugh and Fleda managed
to compound the matter with each other, one taking
the cake and pears, and the other the ham and cheese.
In the midst of all this over flow of good will Fleda
bethought her to ask if Miss Flora knew of any girl
or woman that would go out to service. Miss Flora
took the matter into grave consideration as soon as
her anxiety on the subject of their cups of tea had
subsided. She did not commit herself, but thought
it possible that one of the Finns might be willing
to go out.
“Where do they live?”
“It’s—a—not far
from Queechy Run,” said the doctor, whose now
and then hesitation in the midst of his speech was
never for want of a thought but simply and merely
for the best words to clothe it in.
“Is it in our way to-night?”
He could make it so, the doctor said, with pleasure,
for it would give him permission to gallant them a
little further.
They had several miles yet to go, and the sun went
down as they were passing through Queechy Run.
Under that still cool clear autumn sky Fleda would
have enjoyed the ride very much, but that her unfulfilled
errand was weighing upon her, and she feared her aunt
and uncle might want her services before she could
be at home. Still, late as it was, she determined
to stop for a minute at Mrs. Finn’s and go home
with a clear conscience. At her door, and not
till there, the doctor was prevailed upon to part
company, the rest of the way being perfectly plain.
“Not I!—at least I think not.
But, Hugh, don’t say anything about all this
to aunt Lucy. She would be troubled.”
Fleda had certainly when she came away no notion of
improving her acquaintance with Miss Anastasia; but
the supper, and the breakfast and the dinner of the
next day, with all the nameless and almost numberless
duties of housework that filled up the time between,
wrought her to a very strong sense of the necessity
of having some kind of “help” soon.
Mrs. Rossitur wearied herself excessively with doing
very little, and then looked so sad to see Fleda working
on, that it was more disheartening and harder to bear
than the fatigue. Hugh was a most faithful and
invaluable coadjutor, and his lack of strength was
like her own made up by energy of will; but neither
of them could bear the strain long; and when the final
clearing away of the dinner-dishes gave her a breathing-time
she resolved to dress herself and put her thimble in
her pocket and go over to Miss Finn’s quilting.
Miss Lucy might not be like Miss Anastasia; and if
she were, anything that had hands and feet to move
instead of her own would be welcome.
Hugh went with her to the door and was to come for
her at sunset.
