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' Douglass's, working for her to-day. Do you know Mis' Douglass? Earl Douglass'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 township, 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.