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Plumfield's!" said Fleda. "What's your old friend Mr. Carleton doing in New York?" said Charlton. "Is he there still?" said Mrs. Rossitur. "As large as life," answered her son. "Which, though you might not suppose it, aunt Lucy, is about the height of Capt. Rossitur, with I should judge a trifle less weight." "Your eyes are observant!" said Charlton. "Of a good many things," said Fleda lightly.
He hoped to do something where he was. It was just then the beginning of the sugar season, and Mrs. Douglass having renewed and urged Earl's offer of help, Fleda sent Philetus down to ask him to come the next day with his team. Seth Plumfield's, which had drawn the wood in the winter, was now busy in his own sugar business. On Earl Douglass's ground there happened to be no maple-trees.
"I have nothing to conceal," said Fleda. "How do you know he is here, Hugh?" "I was anxiously asked the other day," said Hugh with a slight smile, "whether you had come home; and then told that Mr. Thorn was in Queechy. There is no mistake about it, for my imformant had actually seen him, and given him the direction to Mr. Plumfield's, for which he was inquiring." "The direction to Mr.
They had been slowly walking along the fence towards the furthest of Mr. Plumfield's coadjutors, upon whom his eye had been curiously fixed as he was speaking; a young man who was an excellent sample of what is called "the raw material." He had just come to a sudden stop in the midst of the furrow when his employer called to him; and he answered somewhat lack-a-daisically,
We can't get her out of the room," she added, bringing her eyes to bear, for an instant, upon the young gentleman, "she stays in there the hull time since morning, I've tried, and Mis' Plumfield's tried, and everybody has tried, and there can't none of us manage it; she will stay in there, and it's an awful cold room when there aint no fire."
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, ain't 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?"
Carleton's first words were as coolly and as gravely spoken as if they had just come out from a philosophical lecture; and with an immediate spring of relief she enjoyed every step of the way and every word of the conversation which was kept up with great life, till they reached Mrs. Plumfield's door. No one was in the sitting-room. Fleda left Mr.
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. Douglass," said Fleda smiling, "he only thinks that this will catch a little more."
"That's Mis' Plumfield's niece, mother." "She's a handsome little creetur, aint she?" They all laughed at that, and Fleda's cheeks growing crimson, Mrs.
Plumfield's!" said Fleda. "What's your old friend, Mr. Carleton, doing in New York?" said Charlton. "Is he there still?" said Mrs. Rossitur. "Large as life," answered her son. "Which, though you might not suppose it, aunt Lucy, is about the height of Captain Rossitur, with I should judge a trifle less weight." "Your eyes are observant!" said Charlton.
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