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Hum why it's up in Wyandot County some five or six miles from the Montepoole Spring what's this they call it? Queechy! By the way!" said he, reading Fleda's countenance, "it is the very place where your father was born! it is! I didn't think of that before." Fleda's hands were clasped. "Oh, I am very glad!" she said. "It's my old home.
"You are, eh? Well I don't know but I know that I have been inquired of by two several and distinct people as to your coming. Ah, you needn't open your bright eyes at me, because I shall not tell you. Only let me ask, you have no notion of fencing off my Queechy rose with a hedge of blackthorn, or anything of that kind, have you?"
Carleton knew from the unmistakable lines of the face was only because tears were waiting another time; quiet now, it would not be by and by. He came and stood at the window with her. "Do you know," he said, after a little, "that Mr. Rossitur purposes to leave Queechy?" "Does he?" said Fleda rather starting, but she added not another word, simply because she felt she could not safely.
Barby sobbed for a few minutes with the strength of a strong nature that rarely gave way in that manner; and then dashed her tears right and left, not at all as if she were ashamed of them, but with a resolution not to be overcome. "There won't be nothing good left in Queechy, when you're gone, you and Mis' Plumfield without I go and look at the place where Hugh lies "
I only wish it wa'n't out o' Queechy." Fleda thought on the whole as she walked home that she did not wish any such thing. Queechy seemed dismantled, and she thought she would rather go to a new place now that she had taken such a leave of every thing here. Two things remained however to be taken leave of; the house and Barby. Happily Fleda had little time for the former.
Here is this girl, sir, was coming to me a little while ago, complaining that she wanted something fresh, and begging me to take her back to Queechy, forsooth, to find it, with two feet of snow on the ground. Who wants to see you at Queechy?" he said, facing round upon her with a look half fierce, half quizzical.
"Yes, but you don't answer my question," said her uncle, putting his hand under her chin and smiling at the blushing face he brought round to view; "Who got them?" "I did." "You have been out in the rain?" "O Queechy rain don't hurt me, uncle Rolf." "And don't it wet you either?" "Yes sir a little." "How much?" "My sleeves, O I dried them long ago."
Still she went on and enjoyed herself; but the mere thought of his patient smile as she passed would have kept her from too much elation of spirits, if there had been any danger. There never was any. "That's a lovely little cousin of yours," said Thorn, one evening, when he and Rossitur, on horseback, were leisurely making their way along the up-and-down road between Montepoole and Queechy.
Rossitur was persuaded, more times than one, to put herself in her plainest remaining French silk and entertain the whole party, with the addition of one or two of Charlton's friends, at her Queechy farm-house. Fleda enjoyed it all with the quick spring of a mind habitually bent to the patient fulfilment of duty and habitually under the pressure of rather sobering thoughts.
"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.
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