"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 fire-light? 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 show 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.
"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 they do come. Good morning, Dr. Quackenboss! I hope you're a-going to give us something else besides a bow? and I wont take none of your physic neither."
"I humbly submit," said the doctor, graciously, "that nothing ought to be expected of gentlemen that a are so unhappy as to be alone; for they really a have nothing to give but themselves."
There was a shout of merriment.