"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 a maze and waited for the question to be repeated:

"I say, where's the soft soap?

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

"I was trying to think, Aunt Lucy-I don't believe there is any." "Where is it?" said Barby.

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

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

"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 firearms 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."