"She is not strong enough to do much herself, and she wants some one that will take all the trouble from her. You'd have the field all to yourself, Cynthy."
"Your aunt sets two tables, I calculate, don't she?"
"Yes; my uncle doesn't like to have any but his own family around him."
"I guess I shouldn't suit!" said Miss Gall, after another little pause, and stooping very diligently to pick up some scattered shreds from the floor. But Fleda could see the flushed face, and the smile which pride and a touch of spiteful pleasure in the revenge she was taking made particularly hateful. She needed no more convincing that Miss Gall "wouldn't suit;" but she was sorry, at the same time, for the perverseness that had so needlessly disappointed her; and went rather pensively back again down the little footpath to the waiting wagon.
"This is hardly the romance of life, dear Hugh," she said, as she seated herself.
"Haven't you succeeded?"
Fleda shook her head.
"What's the matter?"
"Oh pride injured pride of station! The wrong of not coming to our table and putting her knife into our butter."
"And living in such a place!" said Hugh.