"You don't suppose," said Mr. Rossitur stopping again in the middle of the floor after another turn and a half,--"you do not suppose that I am going to take the labouring of the farm upon myself? I shall employ some one of course, who understands the matter, to take all that off my hands."
The doctor thought of the old proverb and the alternative the plough presents to those who would thrive by it; Fleda thought of Mr. Didenhover; Mrs. Rossitur would fain have suggested that such an important person must be well paid; but neither of them spoke.
"Of course," said Mr. Rossitur haughtily as he went on with his walk, "I do not expect any more than you to live in the back-woods the life we have been leading here. That is at an end."
"Is it a very wild country?" asked Mrs. Rossitur of the doctor.
"No wild beasts, my dear, if that is your meaning,--and I do not suppose there are even many snakes left by this time."
"No, but dear uncle, I mean, is it in an unsettled state?"
"No my dear, not at all,--perfectly quiet."
"Ah but do not play with me," exclaimed poor Mrs. Rossitur between laughing and crying;--"I mean is it far from any town and not among neighbours?"
"Far enough to be out of the way of morning calls," said the doctor;--"and when your neighbours come to see you they will expect tea by four o'clock. There are not a great many near by, but they don't mind coming from five or six miles off."
Mrs. Rossitur looked chilled and horrified. To her he had described a very wild country indeed. Fleda would have laughed if it had not been for her aunt's face; but that settled down into a doubtful anxious look that pained her. It pained the old doctor too.