Queechy
Chapter 87 : "He has tuk himself off out o' town.""Where to?""I can�

"He has tuk himself off out o' town."

"Where to?"

"I can't tell where teu ? he aint coming back, tain't likely."

"How do you know?"

" 'Cause he's tuk all his traps and went, and he said farming didn't pay, and he wa'n't a-going to have nothin' more to deu with it; ? he telled Mis' Simpson so ? he lived to Mis'

Simpson's; and she telled Mr. Ten Eyck."

"Are you sure, Philetus?"

"Sure as 'lection! ? he telled Mis' Simpson so, and she telled Mr. Ten Eyck; and he's cleared out."

Fleda and Hugh again looked at each other. Mr. Skillcorn having now delivered himself of his news, went out to the woodyard.

"I hope he ha'n't carried off our cows along with him," said Barby, as she, too, went out to some other part of her premises.

"He was to have made us quite a payment on the first of March," said Fleda.

"Yes, and that was to have gone to uncle Orrin," said Hugh.

"We shall not see a cent of it. And we wanted a little of it for ourselves. I have that money from the _Excelsior_, but I can't touch a penny of it, for it must go to Philetus's wages.

What Barby does without hers, I do not know; she has had but one five dollars in six months. Why she stays I cannot imagine; unless it is for pure love."

"As soon as the spring opens, I can go to the mill again,"

said Hugh, after a little pause. Fleda looked at him sorrowfully, and shook her head as she withdrew her eyes.

"I wish father would give up the farm," Hugh went on, under his breath. "I cannot bear to live upon uncle Orrin so."

Fleda's answer was to clasp her hands. Her only words were, "Don't say anything to aunt Lucy."

"It is of no use to say anything to anybody," said Hugh. "But it weighs me to the ground, Fleda."

"If uncle Rolf doesn't come home by spring ? I hope, I hope he will! but if he does not, I will take desperate measures. I will try farming myself, Hugh. I have thought of it, and I certainly will. I will get Earl Dougla.s.s, or somebody else, to play second fiddle, but I will have but one head on the farm, and I will try what mine is worth."

"You could not do it, Fleda."

"One can do anything! with a strong enough motive."

"I'm afraid you'd soon be tired, Fleda."

"Not if I succeeded ? not so tired as I am now."

"Poor Fleda! I dare say you are tired!"

"It wasn't _that_ I meant," said Fleda, slightly drawing her breath; "I meant this feeling of everything going wrong, and uncle Orrin, and all."

"But you _are_ weary," said Hugh, affectionately. "I see it in your face."

"Not so much body as mind, after all. Oh, Hugh! this is the worst part of being poor ? the constant occupation of one's mind on a miserable succession of trifles. I am so weary sometimes! If I only had a nice book to rest myself for a while, and forget all these things, I would give so much for it! ?"

"Dear Fleda, I wish you had!"

"That was one delight of being in New York; I forgot all about money, from one end of it to the other; I put all that away; and not having to think of meals till I came to eat them. You can't think how tired I get of ringing the changes on pork and flour, and Indian meal, and eggs, and vegetables!"

Fleda looked tired, and pale; and Hugh looked sadly conscious of it.

"Don't tell aunt Lucy I have said all this!" she exclaimed, after a moment, rousing herself; "I don't always feel so; only once in a while I get such a fit. And now, I have just troubled you by speaking of it."

"You don't trouble any one in that way very often, dear Fleda," said Hugh, kissing her.

"I ought not at all ? you have enough else to think of; but it is a kind of relief sometimes. I like to do these things in general ? only now and then I get tired, as I was just now, I suppose, and then one sees everything through a different medium."

"I am afraid it would tire you more to have the charge of Earl Dougla.s.s and the farm upon your mind; and mother could be no help to you, ? nor I, if I am at the mill."

"But there's Seth Plumfield. Oh, I've thought of it all. You don't know what I am up to, Mr. Rossitur. You shall see how I will manage ? unless uncle Rolf comes home, in which case I will very gladly forego all my honours and responsibilities together."

"I hope he will come!" said Hugh.

But this hope was to be disappointed. Mr. Rossitur wrote again about the first of March, saying, that he hoped to make something of his lands in Michigan, and that he had the prospect of being engaged in some land agencies, which would make it worth his while to spend the summer there. He bade his wife let anybody take the farm that could manage it, and would pay; and to remit to Dr. Gregory whatever she should receive, and could spare. He hoped to do something where he was.

It was just then the beginning of the sugar season, and Mrs.

Dougla.s.s 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 Dougla.s.s's ground there happened to be no maple-trees. His lands were of moderate extent, and almost entirely cultivated as a sheep farm; and Mr. Dougla.s.s himself, though in very comfortable circ.u.mstances, was in the habit of a.s.sisting, on advantageous terms, all. the farmers in the neighbourhood.

Philetus came back again in a remarkably short time; and announced that he had met Dr. Quackenboss in the way, who had offered to come with his team for the desired service.

"Then you have not been to Mr. Dougla.s.s's?"

"I have not," said Philetus ? "I thought likely you wouldn't calculate to want him teu."

"How came the doctor to know what you were going for?"

"I told him."

"But how came you to tell him?''

"Waul, I guess he had a mind to know," said Philetus; "so I didn't keep it no closer than I had teu."

"Well," said Fleda, biting her lips, "you will have to go down to Mr. Dougla.s.s's, nevertheless, Philetus, and tell him the doctor is coming to-morrow, but I should be very much obliged to him if he will be here next day. Will you?"

"Yes, marm!"

"Now, dear Hugh, will you make me those little spouts for the trees? ? of some dry wood : you can get plenty out here. You want to split them, up with a hollow chisel, about a quarter of an inch thick, and a little more than half an inch broad.

Have you got a hollow chisel?"

"No, but I can get one up the hill. Why must it be hollow?"