"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 doesn't know at all how things are at home-he hasn't an ilea 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.

That 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. Your uncle at home?"

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. Iugh, 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 for 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 Vieda. 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.

St

term.

CHAPTER XXII.

Some bring a capon, some a rurall cake,

Some nuts, some apples; some that thinke they make
The better cheeses, bring 'hem; or else send

By their ripe daughters, whom they would commend

This way to husbands; and whose baskets beare

An embleme of themselves, in plum or peare.-Een Jonson.

O the time walked away, for this family was not now of those "whom time runneth withal," to the second summer of Mr. Didenhover's

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

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"You are tired, dear," said Mrs. Rossitur sorrowfully; "you look pale." "Do I?" said Fleda sitting down. "I am a little tired!" "Why do you do so?"

"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 peas? 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?"

"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,es.erday, 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. Isn't that doing well? and I sent two dozen the day before yesterday. It is time they were gone for they are running up to seed, this set; I have got another fine set almost ready."

Mrs. Rossitur looked at her again, as if she had been a sort of terrestrial angel.

"And how much will you get for them?"

"I don't know exactly-threepence or sixpence perhaps, I guess not so much-they are so easily raised; though I don't believe there are so fine as mine to be seen in this region. If I only had somebody to water the strawberries! we should have a great many. Aunt Lucy, I am going to send as many as I can without robbing Uncle Rolf-he shan't miss them; but the rest of us don't mind eating rather fewer than usual? I shall make a good deal by them. And I think these morning rides do Hugh good; don't you think so?

"And what have you been busy about ever since breakfast, Fleda?” “Oh, two or three things,” said Fleda lightly.

"What?"

"I had bread to make, and then I thought while my hands were in I would make a custard for Uncle Rolf."

"You needn't have done that, dear! it was not necessary." "Yes it was, because you know we have only fried pork for dinner today, and while we have the milk and eggs it doesn't cost much—the sugar is almost nothing. He will like it better, and so will Hugh. As for you,” said Fleda, gently touching her forehead again, “you know it is of no consequence!

"I wish you would think yourself of some consequence,” said Mrs. Rossitur.

"Don't I think myself of consequence !” said Fleda affectionately. don't know how you'd all get on without me.

mind to do now, by way of resting myself ?"

"I

What do you think I have a

“Well?” said Mrs. Rossitur, thinking of something else.

"It is the day for making presents to the minister you know?” "The minister?"

"Yes, the new minister-they expect him to-day; you have heard of it; the things are all to be carried to his house to-day. I have a great notion to go and see the fun—if I only had anything in the world I could possibly take with me."

"Aren't you too tired, dear?"

"No-it would rest me-it is early yet-if I only had something to take! I couldn't go without taking something

"A basket of eggs?" said Mrs. Rossitur.

"Can't, aunt Lucy-I can't spare them; so many of the hens are setting now. A basket of strawberries !—that's the thing! I've got enough picked for that and to-night too. That will do !"

Fleda's preparations were soon made, and with her basket on her arm she was ready to set forth.

"If pride had not been a little put down in me," she said smiling, "I suppose I should rather stay at home than go with such a petty offering. And no doubt every one that sees it or hears of it will lay it to anything but

the right reason. So much the world knows about the people it judges! It is too bad to leave you all alone, Aunt Lucy."

Mrs. Rossitur pulled her down for a kiss, a kiss in which how much was said on both sides!-and Fleda set forth, choosing as she very commonly did the old-time way through the kitchen.

“Off again?” said Barby, who was on her knees scrubbing the great flagstones of the hearth.

“Yes, I am going up to see the donation party.”

"Has the minister come ?"

"No, but he is coming to day, I understand." "He ha'n't preached for 'em yet, has he?”

"Not yet; I suppose he will next Sunday."

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They are in a mighty hurry to give him a donation party!" said Barby. "I'd ha' waited till he was here first. I don't believe they'd be quite so spry with their donations if they had paid the last man up as they ought. I'd rather give a man what belongs to him, and make him presents afterwards."

"Why so I hope they will, Barby," said Fleda laughing. But Barby said no more.

The parsonage-house was about a quarter of a mile, a little more, from the saw-mill, in a line at right angles with the main road. Fleda took Hugh from his work to see her safe there. The road ran north, keeping near the level of the mid-hill where it branched off a little below the saw mill; and as the ground continued rising towards the east and was well clothed with woods, the way at this hour was still pleasantly shady. To the left, the same slope of ground carried down to the foot of the hill gave them an uninterrupted view over a wide plain or bottom, edged in the distance with a circle of gently swelling hills. Close against the hills, in the far corner of the plain, lay the little village of Queechy Run, hid from sight by a slight intervening rise of ground; not a chimney shewed itself in the whole spread of country. A sunny landscape just now; but rich in picturesque associations of haycocks and winrows, spotting it near and far ; and close by below them was a field of mowers at work; they could distinctly hear the measured rush of the scythes through the grass, and then the soft clink of the rifles would seem to play some old delicious tune of childish days. Fleda made Hugh stand still to listen. It was a warm day, but "the sweet south that breathes upon a bank of violets," could hardly be more sweet than the air which coming to them over the whole breadth of the valley had been charged by the new-made hay.

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'How good it is, Hugh,” said Fleda, “that one can get out of doors and forget everything that ever happened or ever will happen within four walls!"

"Do you ?” said Hugh, rather soberly.

"Yes I do, even in my flower-patch, right before the house door; but here-" said Fleda, turning away and swinging her basket of strawberries as she went, "I have no idea I ever did such a thing as make bread! and how clothes get mended I do not comprehend in the least!

"And have you forgotten the peas and the asparagus too?”

"I am afraid you haven't, dear Hugh," said Fleda, linking her arm within his. "Hugh, I must find some way to make money."

"More money?" said Hugh smiling.

“Yes--this garden business is all very well, but it doesn't come to any very great things after all, if you are aware of it; and Hugh, I want to get aunt Lucy a new dress. I can't bear to see her in that old merino and it isn't good for her. Why Hugh, she couldn't possibly see anybody, if anybody should come to the house."

"Who is there to come?" said Hugh.

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Why nobody; but still, she ought not to be so.

"What more can you do, dear Fleda? You work a great deal too hard already," said Hugh sighing. "You should have seen the way father and mother looked at you last night when you were asleep on the sofa." Fleda stifled her sigh and went on.

"I am sure there are things that might be done-things for the booksellers-translating, or copying, or something, I don't know exactly—I have heard of people's doing such things. I mean to write to uncle Orrin and ask him. I am sure he can manage it for me."

"What were you writing the other night?" said Hugh suddenly.

"When?"

"The other night-when you were writing by the firelight? I saw your pencil scribbling away at a furious rate over the paper, and you kept your hand up carefully between me and your face, but I could see it was something very interesting. Ha?" said Hugh, laughingly trying to get another view of Fleda's face which was again kept from him. "Send that to uncle Orrin, Fleda; or shew it to me first and then I will tell you."

Fleda made no answer; and at the parsonage door Hugh left her. Two or three wagons were standing there but nobody to be seen. Fleda went up the steps and crossed the broad piazza, brown and unpainted, but picturesque still, and guided by the sound of tongues turned to the right where she found a large low room, the very centre of the stir. But the stir had not by any means reached the height yet. Not more than a dozen people were gathered. Here were aunt Syra and Mrs. Douglass, appointed a committee to receive and dispose the offerings as they were brought in.

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'Why there is not much to be seen yet," said Fleda. "I did not know I was so early."

"Time enough," said Mrs. Douglass. "They'll come the thicker when