was the flush of pleasure and exercise, and she did not let him get a good look at her eyes.

Why, you've got enough to dress up the front room chimney," said he. "That'll be the best thing you can do with 'em,

won't it?"

"The front room chimney! No, indeed I won't, grandpa. I don't want 'em where nobody can see them, and you know we are never in there now it is cold weather."

"Well, dear! anyhow you like to have it. But you ha'n't a jar in the house big enough for them, have you?"

"O, I'll manage-I've got an old broken pitcher without a handle, grandpa, that'll do very well."

"A broken pitcher! that isn't a very elegant vase," said he. "O, you wouldn't know it is a pitcher when I have fixed it. I'll cover up all the broken part with green you know. Are we going home now, grandpa?"

"No, I want to stop a minute at uncle Joshua's."

Uncle Joshua was a brother-in-law of Mr. Ringgan, a substantial farmer, and very well to do in the world. He was found not in the house, but abroad in the field with his men, loading an enormous basket wagon with corn-stalks. At Mr. Ringgan's shout he got over the fence, and came to the wagonside. His face showed sense and shrewdness, but nothing of the open nobility of mien which nature had stamped upon that of his brother.

"Fine morning, eh?" said he. stalks."

"So I see," said Mr. Ringgan. way of curing them answer?"

"I'm getting in my corn

"How do you find the new

"Fine as ever you see. Sweet as a nut. The cattle are mad after them. How are you going to be off for fodder this winter ?"

"There

"It's more that I can tell you," said Mr. Ringgan. ought to be more than plenty; but Didenhover contrives to bring everything out at the wrong end. I wish I was rid of him."

"He'll never get a berth with me, I can tell you," said uncle Joshua, laughing.

Brother," said Mr. Ringgan, lowering his tone again, "have you any loose cash you could let me have for six months or so?"

Uncle Joshua took a meditative look down the road, turned a quid of tobacco in his cheek, and finally brought his eyes again to Mr. Ringgan and answered.

66 Well, I don't see as I can," said he. "You see, Josh is just a going to set up for himself at Kenton, and he'll want

some help of me; and I expect that'll be about as much as I can manage to lay my hands on."

66 Do you know who has any that he would be likely to lend ?” said Mr. Ringgan.

No, I don't. Money is rather scarce. For your rent, eh?" "Yes, for my rent! The farm brings me in nothing but my living. That Didenhover is ruining me, brother Joshua." “He's feathering his own nest, I reckon.”

"You may swear to that. There wa'n't as many bushels of grain, by one-fourth, when they were threshed out last year, as I had calculated there would be in the field. I don't know what on earth he could have done with it. I suppose it'll be the same thing over this year."

66

May be he has served you as Deacon Travis was served by one of his help last season-the rascal bored holes in the granary floor and let out the corn so, and Travis couldn't contrive how his grain went till the floor was empty next spring, and then he see how it was.”

"Ha!-did he catch the fellow?"

"Not he-he had made tracks before that. A word in your ear-I wouldn't let Didenhover see much of his salary till you know how he will come out at the end."

"He has got it already!" said Mr. Ringgan, with a nervous twitch at the old mare's head; "he wheedled me out of several little sums on one pretence and another, he had a brother in New York that he wanted to send some to, and goods that he wanted to get out of pawn, and so on,-and I let him have it! and then there was one of those fatting steers that he proposed to me to let him have on account, and I thought it was as good a way of paying him as any; and that made up pretty near the half of what was due to him."

"I warrant you his'n was the fattest of the whole lot. Well, keep a tight hold of the other half, brother Elzevir, that's my advice to you."

"The other half he was to make upon shares."

"Whew!-well-I wish you well rid of him; and don't make such another bargain again. Good-day to ye!"

It was with a keen pang that little Fleda saw the down-hearted look of her grandfather as again he gave the old mare notice to move on. A few minutes passed in deep thought on both sides.

"Grandpa," said Fleda, "wouldn't Mr. Jolly perhaps know of somebody that might have some money to lend ?”

"I declare!" said the old gentleman, after a moment, "that's not a bad thought. I wonder I didn't have it myself."

They turned about, and without any more words measured

C

back their way to Queechy Run. Mr. Jolly came out again, brisk and alert as ever; but after seeming to rack his brains in search of any actual or possible money-lender, was obliged to confess that it was in vain; he could not think of one.

"But I'll tell you what, Mr. Ringgan," he concluded, "I'll turn it over in my mind to-night and see if I can think of anything that'll do, and if I can I'll let you know. If we hadn't such a nether mill-stone to deal with, it would be easy enough to work it somehow."

So they set forth homewards again.

"Cheer up, dear!" said the old gentleman, heartily, laying one hand on his little granddaughter's lap; “it will be arranged somehow. Don't you worry your little head with business. God will take care of us."

"Yes, grandpa !" said the little girl, looking up with an instant sense of relief at these words; and then looking down again immediately to burst into tears.

CHAPTER II.

Have you seen but a bright lily grow,
Before rude hands have touched it?
Ha' you mark'd but the fall o' the snow,
Before the soil hath smutch'd it?

BEN JONSON.

WHERE a ray of light can enter the future, a child's hope can find a way-a way that nothing less airy and spiritual can travel. By the time they reached their own door Fleda's spirits were at par again.

"I am very glad we have got home, aren't you, grandpa?" she said, as she jumped down; "I'm so hungry. I guess we are both of us ready for supper, don't you think so?"

She hurried up stairs to take off her wrappings, and then came down to the kitchen, where, standing on the broad hearth and warming herself at the blaze, with all the old associations of comfort settling upon her heart, it occurred to her that foundations so established could not be shaken. The blazing fire seemed to welcome her home, and bid her dismiss fear; the kettle singing on its accustomed hook, looked as if quietly ridiculing the idea that they could be parted company; her grandfather was in his cushioned chair at the corner of the hearth, reading the newspaper, as she had seen him a thousand times; just in the same position, with that collected air of grave enjoyment, one leg crossed over the other, settled back in

his chair but upright, and scanning the columns with an intent but most un-careful face. A face it was that always had a rare union of fineness and placidness. The table stood spread in the usual place, warmth and comfort filled every corner of the room, and Fleda began to feel as if she had been in an uncomfortable dream, which was very absurd, but from which she was very glad she had awoke.

"What have you got in this pitcher, Cynthy?" said she. "Muffins!-O let me bake them, will you? I'll bake them."

“Now, Flidda,” said Cynthy, “just you be quiet. There ain't no place where you can bake 'em. I'm just going to clap 'em in the reflector-that's the shortest way I can take to do 'em. You keep yourself out o' muss."

66

They won't be muffins if you bake 'em in the reflector, Cynthy; they aren't half so good. Ah, do let me! I won't make a bit of muss."

"Where'll you do 'em?"

"In grandpa's room-if you'll just clean off the top of the stove for me; now do, Cynthy! I'll do 'em beautifully, and you won't have a bit of trouble. Come!"

"It'll make an awful smoke, Flidda; you'll fill your grandpa's room with the smoke, and he won't like that, I guess."

"Oh, he won't mind it," said Fleda. "Will you, grandpa ?" 66 What, dear?" said Mr. Ringgan, looking up at her from his paper, with a relaxing face which indeed promised to take nothing amiss that she might do.

"Will you mind if I fill your room with smoke?"

"No, dear!" said he, the strong heartiness of his acquiescence almost reaching a laugh; "no, dear!-fill it with anything you like!"

There was nothing more to be said; and while Fleda in triumph put on an apron and made her preparations, Cynthy on her part, and with a very good grace, went to get ready the stove; which, being a wood stove, made of sheet iron, with a smooth, even top, afforded, in Fleda's opinion, the very best possible field for muffins to come to their perfection. Now Fleda cared little in comparison for the eating part of the business; her delight was, by the help of her own skill and the stove-top, to bring the muffins to this state of perfection; her greatest pleasure in them was over when they were baked.

A little while had passed, Mr. Ringgan was still busy with his newspaper, Miss Cynthia Gall going in and out on various errands, Fleda shut up in the distant room with the muffins and the smoke; when there came a knock at the door, and Mr. Ringgan's "Come in!" was followed by the entrance of two strangers, young, well-dressed, and comely. They wore

the usual badges of seekers after game, but their guns were left outside.

The old gentleman's look of grave expectancy told his want of enlightening.

"I fear you do not remember me, Mr. Ringgan," said the foremost of the two, coming up to him,- 'my name is Rossitur -Charlton Rossitur-a cousin of your little granddaughter. I have only- "

"O, I know you now!" said Mr. Ringgan, rising and grasping his hand heartily,—" you are very welcome, sir. How do you do? I recollect you perfectly, but you took me by surprise. How do you do, sir? Sit down-sit down."

And the old gentleman had extended his frank welcome to the second of his visitors, almost before the first had time to

'My friend, Mr. Carleton."

"I couldn't imagine what was coming upon me,” said Mr. Ringgan, cheerfully, "for you weren't anywhere very near my thoughts; and I don't often see much of the gay world that is passing by me. You have grown since I saw you last, Mr. Rossitur. You are studying at West Point, I believe."

66

No, sir; I was studying there, but I had the pleasure of bringing that to an end last June."

"Ah! Well, what are you now? not a cadet any longer, I suppose."

No, sir; we hatch out of that shell lieutenants." 66 Hum; and do you intend to remain in the army?” Certainly, sir, that is my purpose and hope."

"Your mother would not like that, I should judge. I do not understand how she ever made up her mind to let you become that thing which hatches out into a lieutenant. Gentle creatures

а

she and her sister both were; how was it, Mr. Rossitur? were you a wild young gentleman that wanted training?"

I have had it, sir, whether I wanted it or no.'

"Hum! How is he, Mr. Carleton ?-sober enough to command men?"

I have not see him tried, sir," said this gentleman, smiling; "but from the inconsistency of the orders he issues to his dogs, I doubt it exceedingly."

"Why, Carleton would have no orders issued to them at all, I believe," said young Rossitur; "he has been saying 'hush' to me all day."

The old gentleman laughed in a way that indicated intelligence with one of the speakers-which appeared not.

"So you've been following the dogs to-day," said he. "Been successful?"