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"Yes, and forget there is anything better than the present, I suppose," said Fleda.

76 So we mustn't fret at the ways our Father takes to keep us from hurting ourselves,” said aunt Miriam, cheerfully.

"Oh no!" said Fleda, looking up brightly, in answer to the tender manner in which these words were spoken ;-" and I didn't mean that this is much of a trouble-only I am very glad to think that somebody is coming to-morrow."

Aunt Miriam thought that gentle unfretful face could no stand in need of much discipline.

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FLEDA waited for Barby's coming the next day with a little anxiety. The introduction and installation, however, were happily got over. Mrs. Rossitur, as Fleda knew, was most easily pleased, and Barby Elster's quick eye was satisfied with the unaffected and universal gentleness and politeness of her new employer. She made herself at home in half an hour; and Mrs. Rossitur and Fleda were comforted to perceive, by unmistakable signs, that their presence was not needed in the kitchen, and they might retire to their own premises and forget there was another part of the house. Fleda had forgotten it utterly, and deliciously enjoying the rest of mind and body, she was stretched upon the sofa, luxuriating over some volume from her remnant of a library, when the inner door was suddenly pushed open far enough to admit of the entrance of Miss Elster's head.

"Where's the soft soap?"

Fleda's book went down, and her heart jumped to her mouth, for her uncle was sitting over by the window. Mrs. Rossitur looked up in amaze, and waited for the question to be repeated. "I say, where is the soft soap?"

"Soft soap!" said Mrs. Rossitur-"I don't know whether there is any Fleda, do you know?"

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I was trying to think, aunt Lucy-I don't believe there is

any."

"Where is it?" said Barby.

(6 There is none, I believe," said Mrs. Rossitur.

Where was it, then ?"

"Nowhere there has not been any in the house," said Fleda, raising herself up to see over the back of her sofa.

There ha'n't been none !" said Miss Elster, in a tone more significant than her words, and shutting the door as abruptly as she had opened it.

"What upon earth does the woman mean ?" exclaimed Mr. Rossitur, springing up and advancing towards the kitchen door. Fleda threw herself before him.

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Nothing at all, uncle Rolf-she doesn't mean anything at all-she doesn't know any better."

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"I will improve her knowledge-get out of the way, Fleda." But, uncle Rolf, just hear me one moment-please don't!— she didn't mean any harm-these people don't know any manners-just let me speak to her, please, uncle Rolf!" said Fleda, laying both hands upon her uncle's arms—“I'll manage her."

Mr. Rossitur's wrath was high, and he would have run over or knocked down anything less gentle that had stood in his way; but even the harshness of strength shuns to set itself in array against the meekness that does not oppose; if the touch of those hands had been a whit less light, or the glance of her eye less submissively appealing, it would have availed nothing. As it was, he stopped and looked at her, at first scowling, but then with a smile.

"You manage her!" said he.

"Yes," said Fleda, laughing, and now exerting her force, she gently pushed him back towards the seat he had quitted—"yes, uncle Rolf, you've enough else to manage, don't undertake our 'help.' Deliver over all your displeasure upon me when anything goes wrong-I will be the conductor to carry it off safely into the kitchen, and discharge it just at that point where I think it will do most execution. Now, will you, uncle Rolf? Because we have got a new-fashioned piece of fire-arms in the other room, that I am afraid will go off unexpectedly if it is meddled with by an unskilful hand; and that would leave us without arms, you see, or with only aunt Lucy's and mine, which are not reliable."

"You saucy girl!" said her uncle, who was laughing partly at and partly with her, "I don't know what you deserve exactly. Well, keep this precious new operative of yours out of my way, and I'll take care to keep out of hers. But mind, you must manage not to have your piece snapping in my face in this fashion, for I won't stand it."

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And so, quieted, Mr. Rossitur sat down to his book again; and Fleda, leaving hers open, went to attend upon Barby.

"There ain't much yallow soap neither," said this personage, "if this is all. There's one thing-if we ha'n't got it, we can make it. I must get Mis' Rossitur to have a leach-tub sot up right away. I'm a dreadful hand for havin' plenty o' soap." "What is a leach-tub?" said Fleda.

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'Why, a leach-tub, for to leach ashes in. I'll fix it, afore we're any on us much older.

That's easy enough.
If Mr. Rossitur 'll

keep me in good hard wood, I sha'n't cost him hardly anything for potash."

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"I'll see about it,” said Fleda; "and I will see about having the leach-tub, or whatever it is, put up for you. And, Barby, whenever you want anything, will you just speak to me about it?-and if I am in the other room, ask me to come out here; because my aunt is not strong, and does not know where things are as well as I do; and when my uncle is in there, he sometimes does not like to be disturbed with hearing any such talk. If you'll tell me, I'll see and have everything done for you."

"Well-you get me a leach sot up-that's all I'll ask of you just now," said Barby, good-humouredly, "and help me to find the soap-grease, if there is any. As to the rest, I don't want to see nothin' o' him in the kitchen, so I'll relieve him if he don't want to see much o' me in the parlour. I shouldn't wonder if there wa'n't a speck of it in the house."

Not a speck was there to be found.

"Your uncle's pockets must ha' had a good hole in 'em oy this time," remarked Barby, as they came back from the cellar. However, there never was a crock so empty it couldn't be filled. You get me a leach-tub sot up, and I'll find work

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for it."

From that time, Fleda had no more trouble with her uncle and Barby. Each seemed to have a wholesome appreciation of the other's combative qualities, and to shun them. With Mrs. Rossitur, Barby was soon all-powerful. It was enough that she wanted a thing, if Mrs. Rossitur's own resources could compass it. For Fleda, to say that Barby had presently a perfect understanding with her, and joined to that, a most affectionate, careful regard, is not, perhaps, saying much; for it was true of every one, without exception, with whom Fleda had much to do. Barby was to all of them a very great comfort and stand-by.

It was well for them that they had her within doors to keep things, as she called it, "right and tight;" for abroad the only system in vogue was one of fluctuation and uncertainty. Mr.

Rossitur's Irishman, Donohan, stayed his year out, doing as little good, and as much, at least, negative harm, as he well could; and then went, leaving them a good deal poorer than he found them. Dr. Gregory's generosity had added to Mr. Rossitur's own s nall stock of ready money, giving him the means to make some needed outlays on the farm. But the outlay, ill-applied, had been greater than the income; a scarcity of money began to be more and more felt; and the comfort of the family accordingly drew within more and more narrow bounds. The temper of the head of the family suffered in at least equal degree.

From the first of Barby's coming, poor Fleda had done her utmost to prevent the want of Mons. Emile from being felt. Mr. Rossitur's table was always set by her careful hand, and all the delicacies that came upon it were, unknown to him, of her providing-even the bread. One day, at breakfast, Mr. Rossitur had expressed his impatient displeasure at that of Miss Elster's manufacture. Fleda saw the distressed shade that came over her aunt's face, and took her resolution. It was the last time. She had followed her plan of sending for the receipts, and she studied them diligently, both at home and under aunt Miriam. Natural quickness of eye and hand came in aid of her affectionate zeal, and it was not long before she could trust herself to undertake any operation in the whole range of her cookery-book. But, meanwhile, materials were growing scarce, and hard to come by. The delicate French rolls which were now always ready for her uncle's plate in the morning, had sometimes nothing to back them, unless the unfailing water-cress from the good little spring in the meadow. Fleda could not spare her eggs, for, perhaps, they might have nothing else to depend upon for dinner. It was no burden to her to do these things; she had a sufficient reward in seeing that her aunt and Hugh ate the better, and that her uncle's brow was clear; but it was a burden when her hands were tied by the lack of means, for she knew the failure of the usual supply was bitterly felt, not for the actual want, but for that other want which it implied and prefigured.

On the first dismissal of Donohan, Fleda hoped for a good turn of affairs. But Mr. Rossitur, disgusted with his first experiment, resolved this season to be his own head man ; and appointed Lucas Springer the second in command, with a possé of labourers to execute his decrees. It did not work well. Mr. Rossitur found he had a very tough prime minister, who would have every one of his plans to go through a kind of winnowing process by being tossed about in an argument. The arguments were interminable, until Mr. Rossitur not unfrequently quitted

the field with, "Well, do what you like about it!"--not conquered, but wearied. The labourers, either from want of ready money, or of what they called “manners” in their employer, fell off at the wrong times, just when they were most wanted. Hugh threw himself then into the breach and wrought beyond his strength; and that tried Fleda worst of all. She was glad to see haying and harvest pass over; but the change of seasons seemed to bring only a change of disagreeableness, and she could not find that hope had any better breathing-time in the short days of winter than in the long days of summer. gentle face grew more gentle than ever, for under the shade of sorrowful patience, which was always there now, its meekness had no eclipse.

Her

Mrs. Rossitur was struck with it one morning. She was coming down from her room and saw Fleda standing on the landing-place gazing out of the window. It was before breakfast one cold morning in winter. Mrs. Rossitur put her arms round her softly and kissed her.

"What are you thinking about, dear Fleda?—you ought not to be standing here."

"I was looking at Hugh," said Fleda, and her eye went back to the window. Mrs. Rossitur's followed it. The window gave them a view of the ground behind the house; and there was Hugh, just coming in with a large armful of heavy wood which he had been sawing.

"He isn't strong enough to do that, aunt Lucy,” said Fleda, softly.

"I know it," said his mother, in a subdued tone, and not moving her eye, though Hugh had disappeared.

"It is too cold for him; he is too thinly clad to bear this exposure," said Fleda, anxiously.

"I know it," said his mother, again.

66 Can't you tell uncle Rolf? can't you get him to do it? I am afraid Hugh will hurt himself, aunt Lucy."

"I did tell him the other day-I did speak to him about it," said Mrs. Rossitur; "but he said there was no reason why Hugh should do it-there were plenty of other people

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"But how can he say so when he knows we never can ask Lucas to do anything of the kind, and that other man always contrives to be out of the way when he is wanted? Oh, what is he thinking of?" said Fleda, bitterly, as she saw Hugh again at his work.

It was so rarely that Fleda was seen to shed tears, that they always were a signal of dismay to any of the household. There was even agony in Mrs. Rossitur's voice as she implored her not to give way to them. But, notwithstanding that,

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