After this, George Ludlow was employed to assist in managing the farm, and the progress of time only quickened the increase of their love for him. He grew manly still more in appearance, though to strangers he was homely; he grew intelligent still more in mind, and his society in that home was not its smallest joy.
And Fanny Fabens had now attained to full maturity, and she presented a person and a mind that all admired and loved. Her form had a round and erect development; and her step was as light, and her carriage as proud as the colt's that ranged the hills. Her hair was a shaded and glossy flaxen now, and her eyes were a darker blue. Her beauty was unchanging as the Pleiades, in all situations; for whether she hetchelled flax in the kitchen, or spun wool in the barn; whether peeling apples, or piecing quilts; whether churning butter or dressing cheese; whether gleaning wheat or picking berries; or dancing at a wedding, or singing hymns at church; she was the same rosy, brisk and brightly smiling creature; the same full, free and glad-hearted life; giving grace and honor to labor; light and beauty to nature; joy and virtue to amusements; peace and holiness to worship, and love and happiness to home.
One day when Fabens happened to stop at the tailor's, in the village, he thought to inquire into Frisbie's story, concerning the handkerchief, which he would have them believe George Ludlow had stolen. The tailor was positive in denying the truth of the whole affair. It was false, he said, and much like many other lies they had told.
The next time Fabens saw Troffater, he inquired if Tilly knew any evil of George Ludlow, or if he ever warned Fairbanks and Frisbie against him.
"They never said so much as boo, about 'im to me, nor I to them; that's honest," said Troffater. "But I tell you, Fabens, I never thought a great 'eal o' them scamps. I itched to give you a jog, when they come so thick around you. You was green as a mess o' cowslops, or you'd a seen what they was arter. I thought you'd git nipt a grain, or my name wasn't Troffater. But I dasn't tell you what I thought on 'em. You wouldn't a' b'lieved me, I ben such a witch with my word. I spose you know the fellers have been heern from? They run out of all they cabbaged here perty quick. Frisbie, they say, is jugged up in jail, and there's better men sometimes hung than that Jock Fairbanks. I guess some o' the gals are kindy sorry they sot their caps for 'em! The Faddle gals, I guess, would give all their old shews, if they'd a' kep away from the whelps. My gals is all in titters about it; and Beck Teezle, says she, 'I wonder, says she, if Des and Luce Faddle, says she, will feel above us now?' They couldn't git me to dew their dirty Work, with all their ile and palaver. I bought a pitchfork on 'em, once in hayin', and got a platter there when Josephyne was married, and I paid 'em tew in mink skins; and that's all I had to dew with 'em. You lost a good 'eal by 'em, didn't you, Square?"
"A thousand dollars," said Fabens. "It seemed a great sum to lose, at first. It was too much for me. But it has been a good lesson to me, in many ways. The lesson perhaps will give me my money's worth."
"That is a big sum to luse, I swanny! I wish I had a jogged your elbow a grain. I seen threw the cunnin' scamps the fust time. Didn't you know, Square, that Fairbanks was gray as a wharf rat, when he let his hair alone?" said Troffater.
"No, I did not. He was not gray; his hair was a glossy black," said
Fabens.
"Ha! ha! ha! you was greener 'n cowslops, or you'd a seen that was all dye-stuff!" said Troffater. "Why, I seen the gray roots glisten for half an inch, the fust time I seen 'im. But didn't you know 'im, Square? He come from the Hudson."
"I never knew him till he came here," said Fabens.