Queechy Volume I Part 56

Yielding to the apparent impossibility of getting anything out of Dr. Quackenboss, except civility, and to the real difficulty of disappointing such very earnest good will, Fleda and Hugh did what older persons would not have done ? alighted and walked up to the house.

"This is quite a fortuitous occurrence," the doctor went on.

"I have often had the pleasure of seeing Mr. Rossitur's family in church ? in the little church at Queechy Run ? and that enabled me to recognise your cousin, as soon as I saw him in the wagon. Perhaps, Miss ? a ? you may have possibly heard of my name? ? Quackenboss ? I don't know that you understood ?"

"I have heard it, Sir."

"My Irishmen, Miss ? a ? my Irish labourers, can't get hold of but one end of it ? they call me Boss ? ha, ha, ha!"

Fleda hoped his patients did not get hold of the other end of it, and trembled, visibly.

"Hard to pull a man's name to pieces before his face ? ha, ha!

but I am ? a ? not one thing myself ? a kind of heterogynous ?

I am a piece of a physician, and a little in the agricultural line also; so it's all fair."

"The Irish treat my name as hardly, Dr. Quackenboss ? they call me nothing but Miss Ring-again."

And then Fleda could laugh ? and laugh she did ? so heartily, that the doctor was delighted.

"Ring-again! ha, ha! ? very good! Well, Miss ? a ? I shouldn't think that anybody in your service would ever ? a ? ever let you put your name in practice."

But Fleda's delight at the excessive gallantry and awkwardness of this speech was almost too much; or, as the doctor pleasantly remarked, her nerves were too many for her; and every one of them was dancing by the time they reached the hall door. The doctor's flourishes lost not a bit of their angularity from his tall, ungainly figure, and a lantern-jawed face, the lower member of which had now and then a somewhat lateral play when he was speaking, which curiously aided the quaint effect of his words. He ushered his guests into the house, seeming in a flow of self-gratulation.

The supper-table was spread, sure enough, and hovering about it was the doctor's sister; a lady in whom Fleda only saw a Dutch face, with eyes that made no impression, disagreeable fair hair, and a string of gilt beads round her neck. A painted yellow floor under foot, a room that looked excessively _wooden_ and smelt of cheese, bare walls, and a well-filled table, was all that she took in besides.

"I have the honour of presenting you to my sister," said the doctor, with suavity. "Flora, the Irish domestics of this young lady call her name Miss Ring-again ? if she will let us know how it ought to be called, we shall be happy to be informed."

Dr. Quackenboss was made happy.

"Miss _Ringgan_ ? and this young gentleman is young Mr. Rossitur ? the gentleman that has taken Squire Ringgan's old place. We were so fortunate as to have them lose their way this afternoon, coming from the Pool, and they have just stepped in to see if you can't find 'em a mouthful of something they can eat, while Lollypop is a-getting ready to see them home."

Poor Miss Flora immediately disappeared into the kitchen, to order a bit of superior cheese, and to have some slices of ham put on the gridiron, and then, coming back to the common room, went rummaging about, from cupboard to cupboard, in search of cake and sweetmeats. Fleda protested and begged in vain.

"She was so sorry she hadn't knowed," Miss Flora said ? "she'd ha' had some cakes made that maybe they could have eaten, but the bread was dry; and the cheese wa'n't as good somehow as the last one they cut; maybe Miss Ringgan would prefer a piece of newer made, if she liked it; and she hadn't had good luck with her preserves last summer ? the most of 'em had fomented ? she thought it was the damp weather; but there was some stewed pears that maybe she would be so good as to approve ?

and there was some ham! whatever else it was, it was hot!" ?

It was impossible ? it was impossible, to do dishonour to all this hospitality and kindness and pride that was brought out for them. Early or late, they must eat, in mere grat.i.tude. The difficulty was to avoid eating everything. Hugh and Fleda managed to compound the matter with each other, one taking the cake and pears, and the other the ham and cheese. In the midst of all this overflow of goodwill, Fleda bethought her to ask if Miss Flora knew of any girl or woman that would go out to service. Miss Flora took the matter into grave consideration as soon as her anxiety on the subject of their cups of tea had subsided. She did not commit herself, but thought it possible that one of the Finns might be willing to go out.

"Where do they live?"

"It's ? a ? not far from Queechy Run," said the doctor, whose now and then hesitation in the midst of his speech was never for want of a thought, but simply and merely for the best words to clothe it in.

"Is it in our way to-night?"

He could make it so, the doctor said, with pleasure, for it would give him permission to gallant them a little further.

They had several miles yet to go, and the sun went down as they were pa.s.sing through Queechy Run. Under that still, cool, clear, autumn sky, Fleda would have enjoyed the ride very much, but that her unfulfilled errand was weighing upon her, and she feared her aunt and uncle might want her services before she could be at home. Still, late as it was, she determined to stop for a minute at Mrs. Finn's, and go home with a clear conscience. At her door, and not till there, the doctor was prevailed upon to part company, the rest of the way being perfectly plain.

Mrs. Finn's house was a great unprepossessing building, washed and dried by the rain and sun into a dark, dingy colour, the only one that had ever supplanted the original hue of the freshsawn boards. This, indeed, was not an uncommon thing in the country; near all the houses of the Deepwater settlement were in the same case. Fleda went up a flight of steps to what seemed the front door, but the girl that answered her knock led her down them again, and round to a lower entrance on the other side. This introduced Fleda to a large ground-floor apartment, probably the common room of the family, with the large kitchen fireplace, and flagged hearth, and wall cupboards, and the only furniture, the usual red backed splinter chairs and wooden table. A woman standing before the fire with a broom in her hand, answered Fleda's inclination with a saturnine nod of the head, and, fetching one of the red-backs from the wall, bade her "sit down."

Poor Fleda's nerves bade her "go away." The people looked like their house. The princ.i.p.al woman, who remained standing, broom in hand, to hear Fleda's business, was, in good truth, a dark personage ? her head covered with black hair, her person with a dingy black calico, and a sullen cloud lowering over her eye. At the corner of the fireplace was an old woman, laid by in an easy-chair; disabled, it was plain, not from mental but bodily infirmity; for her face had a cast of mischief which could not stand with the innocence of second childhood. At the other corner sat an elderly woman sewing, with tokens of her trade for yards on the floor around her. Back at the far side of the room, a young man was eating his supper at the table, alone; and under the table, on the floor, the enormous family bread-trough was unwontedly filled with the sewing-woman's child, which had with superhuman efforts crawled into it, and lay kicking and crowing in delight at its new cradle. Fleda did not know how to enter upon her business.

"I have been looking," she began, "for a person who is willing to go out to work. Miss Flora Quackenboss told me perhaps I might find somebody here."

"Somebody to help?" said the woman, beginning to use her broom upon the hearth. "Who wants 'em?"

"Mrs. Rossitur ? my aunt."

"Mrs. Rossitur? ? what, down to old Squire Ringgan's place?"

"Yes. We are left alone, and want somebody very much."

"Do you want her only a few days, or do you calculate to have her stop longer? because you know it wouldn't be worth the while to put oneself out for a week."

"Oh, we want her to stay; if we suit each other."

"Well, I don't know," said the woman, going on with her sweeping. "I could let you have Hannah, but I 'spect I'll want her to hum. What does Mis' Rossitur calculate to give?"

"I don't know ? anything that's reasonable."

"Hannah kin go ? just as good as not," said the old woman in the corner, rubbing her hands up and down her lap ? "Hannah kin go, ? just as good as not!"

"Hannah ain't a-going," said the first speaker, answering without looking at her. "Hannah 'll be wanted to hum; and she aint a well girl neither; she's kind o' weak in her muscles; and I calculate you'll want somebody that call take hold lively. There's Lucy, if she took a notion, she could go ? but she'd please herself about it. She wont do nothing without she has a notion."

This was inconclusive, and desiring to bring matters to a point, Fleda, after a pause, asked if this lady thought Lucy would have a notion to go.

"Well, I can't say ? she ain't to hum, or you could ask her.

She's down to Mis' Dougla.s.s's, working for her to-day. Do you know Mis' Dougla.s.s? ? Earl Dougla.s.s's wife?"

"O yes, I knew her long ago," said Fleda, thinking it might be as well to throw in a spice of ingratiation. "I am Fleda Ringgan. I used to live here with my grandfather."

"Don't say! Well, I thought you had a kind o' look ? the old Squire's granddarter, ain't you?"

"She looks like her father," said the sewing-woman, laying down her needle, which indeed had been little hindrance to her admiration since Fleda came in.

"She's a real pretty gal," said the old woman in the corner.

"He was as smart a looking man as there was in Queechy towns.h.i.+p, or Montepoole either," the sewing-woman went on, "Do you mind him, Flidda?"

"Anastasy," said the old woman aside, "let Hannah go!"

"Hannah's a-going to keep to hum ? Well, about Lucy," she said, as Fleda rose to go ? "I can't just say ? suppos'n you come here to-morrow afternoon ? there's a few coming to quilt ? and Lucy 'll be to hum then. I should admire to have you, and then you and Lucy can agree what you'll fix upon. You can get somebody to bring you, can't you?"

Fleda inwardly shrank, but managed to get off with thanks, and without making a positive promise, which Miss Anastasia would fain have had. She was glad to be out of the house, and driving off with Hugh.

"How delicious the open air feels!"

"What has this visit produced?" said Hugh.