are dying off—Barby says it is because they were in such poor condition at the beginning of winter, and I dare say she is right."

"He ought to have had a thorough good man at the beginning, to get along well.”

O yes!—but he hadn't, you see, and so we have just been growing poorer every month. And now, aunt Miriam, I really don't know from day to day what to do to get dinner. You know, for a good while after we came we used to have our marketing brought every few days from Albany, but we have run up such a bill there already at the butcher's as I don't know when in the world will get paid, and aunt Lucy and I will do anything before we will send for any more; and if it wasn't for her and Hugh I wouldn't care, but they haven't much appetite, and I know that all this takes what little they have away-this, and seeing the effect it has upon uncle Rolf."

"Does he think so much more of eating than of anything else?" said aunt Miriam.

66 O no, it is not that,” said Fleda, earnestly, “it is not that at all-he is not a great eater—but he can't bear to have things different from what they used to be, and from what they ought to be-O no, don't think that! I don't know whether I ought to have said what I have said, but I couldn't help it."

Fleda's voice was lost for a little while.

"He is changed from what he used to be-a little thing vexes him now, and I know it is because he is not happy;-he used to be so kind and pleasant, and he is still sometimes; but aunt Lucy's face-Oh, aunt Miriam !"

"Why, dear?" said aunt Miriam, tenderly.

"It is so changed from what it used to be!"

Poor Fleda covered her own, and aunt Miriam came to her side to give softer and gentler expression to sympathy than words could do, till the bowed face was raised again and hid in her neck.

"I can't see thee do so, my child-my dear child! Hope for brighter days, dear Fleda."

"I could bear it," said Fleda, after a little interval, "if it wasn't for aunt Lucy and Hugh-oh, that is the worst!",

"What about Hugh ?" said aunt Miriam, soothingly.

"Oh, he does what he ought not to do, aunt Miriam, and there is no help for it-and he did last summer, when we wanted men; and in the hot haying-time he used to work, I know, beyond his strength, and aunt Lucy and I did not know what to do with ourselves."

Fleda's head, which had been raised, sunk again, and more heavily.

"Where was his father?" said Mrs. Plumfield.

66

Oh, he was in the house-he didn't know it he didn't think about it."

"Didn't think about it?

"No-oh, he didn't think Hugh was hurting himself, but he was; he showed it for weeks afterward. I have said what I ought not now," said Fleda, looking up, and seeming to check her tears, and the spring of them at once.

"So much security any woman has in a man without religion," said aunt Miriam, going back to her work. Fleda would have said something if she could; she was silent; she stood looking into the fire, while the tears seemed to come as it were by stealth, and ran down her face unregarded.

"Is Hugh not well?"

I don't know," said Fleda, faintly; he is not ill, but he never was very strong, and he exposes himself now, I know, in a way he ought not. I am sorry I have just come and troubled you with all this now, aunt Miriam," she said, after a little pause; "I shall feel better by and by-I don't very often get such a fit."

"My dear little Fleda!”—and there was unspeakable tenderness in the old lady's voice, as she came up, and drew Fleda's head again to rest upon her-"I would not let a rough wind touch thee if I had the holding of it. But we may be glad the arranging of things is not in my hand-I should be a poor friend after all, for I do not know what is best. Canst thou trust Him who does know, my child?"

"I do, aunt Miriam-oh, I do," said Fleda, burying her face in her bosom-" I don't often feel so as I did to-day."

"There comes not a cloud that its shadow is not wanted," said aunt Miriam. “I cannot see why, but it is that thou mayest bloom the brighter, my dear one."

66

"I know it"-Fleda's words were hardly audible-"I will try."

ว

66 Remember His own message to every one under a cloud'Cast all thy care upon Him, for He careth for thee;'-thou mayest keep none of it; and then the peace that passeth understanding shall keep thee. 'So He giveth his beloved sleep.""

Fleda wept for a minute on the old lady's neck, and then she looked up, dried her tears, and sat down with a face greatly quieted and lightened of its burden, while aunt Miriam once more went back to her work. The one wrought

and the other looked on in silence.

The cruller were all done at last-the great bread-trough was filled and set away-the remnant of the fat was carefully

disposed of, and aunt Miriam's handmaid was called in to "take the watch." She herself and her visitor adjourned to the

sitting-room.

"Well," said Fleda, in a tone again steady and clear, “I must go home to see about getting up a dinner. I am the greatest hand at making something out of nothing, aunt Miriam, that ever you saw. There is nothing like practice. I only wish the man uncle Orrin talks about would come along once in a while."

"Who was that?" said aunt Miriam.

"A man that used to go about from house to house," said Fleda, laughing, "when the cottagers were making soup, with a ham-bone to give it a relish, and he used to charge them so much for a dip, and so much for a willor."

66

Come, come, I can do as much for you as that," said aunt Miriam, proceeding to her store-pantry-" see here-wouldn't this be as good as a ham-bone?" said she, bringing out of it a fat fowl; "how would a wallop of this do?"

66

Admirably!-only-the ham-bone used to come out again, and I am confident this never would."

"Well, I guess I'll stand that," said aunt Miriam, smiling— you wouldn't mind carrying this under your cloak, would you?"

66

"I have no doubt I shall go home lighter with it than without it, ma'am—thank you, dear aunty!-dear aunt Miriam !"

There was a change of tone, and of eye, as Fleda sealed each thank with a kiss.

"But how is it ?-does all the charge of the house come upon you, dear ?"

Oh, this kind of thing, because aunt Lucy doesn't understand it, and can't get along with it so well. She likes better to sew, and I had quite as lief do this."

"And don't you sew, too?"

"Oh, a little. She does as much as she can," said Fleda, gravely.

"Where is your other cousin?" said Mrs. Plumfield, abruptly. "Marion ?—she is in England, I believe—we don't hear from her very often."

66 No, no-I mean the one who is in the army.

"Charlton!-Oh, he is just ordered off to Mexico," said Fleda, sadly, and that is another great trouble to aunt Lucy. This miserable war!"

"Does he never come home?"

Only once since we came from Paris-while we were in New York. He has been stationed away off at the West." "He has a captain's pay now, hasn't he?"

"Yes, but he dosen't know at all how things are at home; he hasn't an idea of it-and he will not have. Well, good-bye, dear aunt Miriam-I must run home to take care of my chicken."

She ran away; and if her eyes many a time on the way down the hill filled and overflowed, they were not bitter nor dark tears; they were the gushings of high and pure and generous affections, weeping for fulness not for want.

That chicken was not wasted in soup; it was converted into the nicest possible little fricassee, because the toast would make so much more of it; and to Fleda's own dinner, little went beside the toast, that a greater portion of the rest might be for her aunt and Hugh.

The same evening, Seth Plumfield came into the kitchen, while Fleda was there.

"Here is something belongs to you, I believe," said he, with a covert smile, bringing out from under his cloak the mate to Fleda's fowl-"mother said somethin' had run away with t'other one, and she didn't know what to do with this one alone. uncle at home ?"

Your

The next news that Fleda heard was, that Seth had taken a lease of the saw-mill for two years.

Mr. Didenhover did not disappoint Fleda's expectations. Very little could be got from him, or the farm under him, beyond the immediate supply wanted for the use of the family; and that in kind, not in cash. Mrs. Rossitur was comforted by knowing that some portion of rent had also gone to Dr. Gregory -how large or how small a portion, she could not find out. But this left the family in increasing straits, which narrowed and narrowed during the whole first summer and winter of Didenhover's administration. Very straitened they would have been, but for the means of relief adopted by the two children, as they were always called. Hugh, as soon as the spring opened, had a quiet hint through Fleda, that if he had a mind to take the working of the saw-mill he might, for a consideration merely nominal. This offer was immediately and gratefully closed with; and Hugh's earnings were thenceforward very important at home. Fleda had her own ways and means. Mr. Rossitur, more low-spirited and gloomy than ever, seemed to have no heart to anything. He would have worked, perhaps, if he could have done it alone; but to join Didenhover and his men, or any other gang of workmen, was too much for his magnanimity. He helped nobody but Fleda. For her he would do anything, at any time; and in the garden, and among her flowers in the flowery courtyard, he might often be seen at work with her. But nowhere else.

CHAPTER XXII.

Some bring a capon some a rural cake.

Some nuts some apples: some that thinke they make
Tot better cheeses, orig nem
by their ripe dauginers whom they would commend
cr eise send
Itus way to abstands; and whose baskets beare
An enoletne of themselves in plant or peare."

BEN JONSON.

So the time walked away-for this family was not now of those * whom time runneth withal to the second summer of Mr. Didenhover's term.

One morning Mrs. Rossitur was seated in the breakfast-room at her usual employment, mending and patching-no sinecure Fleda opened the kitchen door and came in, folding up a calico apron she had just taken off

now.

You are tired, dear," said Mrs. Rossitur, sorrowfully- "you look pale."

*Do I?" said Fleda, sitting down.
"Why do you do so?”

..

I am a little tired."

"Oh, it's nothing," said Fleda, cheerfully; I haven't hurt myself. I shall be rested again in a few minutes.”

"What have you been doing ?"

"Oh, I tired myself a little before breakfast in the garden, I suppose. Aunt Lucy, don't you think I had almost a bushel of pease?--and there was a little over a half-bushel last time, so I shall call it a bushel. Isn't that fine?"

"You didn't pick them all yourself?"

66

Hugh helped me a little while; but he had the horse to get ready, and I was out before him this morning-poor fellow, he was tired from yesterday, I dare say.”

Mrs. Rossitur looked at her, a look between remonstrance and reproach, and cast her eyes down without saying a word, swallowing a whole heartful of thoughts and feelings. Fleda stooped forward till her own forehead softly touched Mrs. Rossitur's, as gentle a chiding of despondency as a very sunbeam could have given.

"Now, aunt Lucy!-what do you mean? Don't you know it's good for me? And do you know, Mr. Sweet will give me four shillings a bushel? and, aunt Lucy, I sent three dozen heads of lettuce this morning besides. and I sent two dozen day before yesterday. It is time they Isn't that doing well? were gone, for they are running up to seed, this set; I have got another fine set almost ready."