I become not a cart as well as another
man, a plague on my bringing up.
Shakspeare.
Every day could not be as bright as the last, even
by the help of pitch pine knots. They blazed
indeed, many a time, but the blaze shone upon faces
that it could not sometimes light up. Matters
drew gradually within a smaller and smaller compass.
Another five dollars came from uncle Orrin, and the
hope of more; but these were carefully laid by to pay
Philetus; and for all other wants of the household
excepting those the farm supplied the family were
dependent on mere driblets of sums. None came
from Mr. Rossitur. Hugh managed to collect a
very little. That kept them from absolute distress;
that, and Fleda’s delicate instrumentality.
Regular dinners were given up, fresh meat being now
unheard-of, unless when a kind neighbour made them
a present; and appetite would have lagged sadly but
for Fleda’s untiring care. She thought no
time nor pains ill bestowed which could prevent her
aunt and Hugh from feeling the want of old comforts;
and her nicest skill was displayed in varying the combinations
of their very few and simple stores. The diversity
and deliciousness of her bread stuffs, Barby said,
was “beyond everything!” and a cup of rich
coffee was found to cover all deficiencies of removes
and entremets; and this was always served, Barby said
further, as if the President of the United States
was expected. Fleda never permitted the least
slackness in the manner of doing this or anything
else that she could control.
Mr. Plumfield had sent down an opportune present of
a fine porker. One cold day in the beginning
of February Fleda was busy in the kitchen making something
for dinner, and Hugh at another table was vigorously
chopping sausage meat.
“I should like to have some cake again,”
said Fleda.
“Well, why don’t you?” said Hugh,
chopping away.
“No eggs, Mr. Rossitur,—and can’t
afford ’em at two shillings a dozen. I
believe I am getting discontented—I have
a great desire to do something to distinguish myself—I
would make a plum pudding if I had raisins, but there
is not one in the house.”
“You can get ’em up to Mr. Hemps’s
for sixpence a pound,” said Barby.
But Fleda shook her head at the sixpence and went
on moulding out her biscuits diligently.
“I wish Philetus would make his appearance with
the cows—it is a very odd thing they should
be gone since yesterday morning and no news of them.”
“I only hope the snow ain’t so bright
it’ll blind his eyes,” said Barby.
“There he is this minute,” said Hugh.
“It is impossible to tell from his countenance
whether successful or not.”
“Well where are the cows, Mr. Skillcorn?”
said Barby as he came in.
“I have went all over town,” said the
person addressed, “and they ain’t no place.”
