"He is changed from what he used to be--a little thing vexes him now, and I know it is because he is not happy;--he used to be so kind and pleasant, and he is still, sometimes; but aunt Lucy's face--Oh aunt Miriam!--"
"Why, dear?" said aunt Miriam, tenderly.
"It is so changed from what it used to be!"
Poor Fleda covered her own, and aunt Miriam came to her side to give softer and gentler expression to sympathy than words could do; till the bowed face was raised again and hid in her neck.
"I can't see thee do so my child--my dear child!--Hope for brighter days, dear Fleda."
"I could bear it," said Fleda after a little interval, "if it wasn't for aunt Lucy and Hugh--oh that is the worst!--"
"What about Hugh?" said aunt Miriam, soothingly.
"Oh he does what he ought not to do, aunt Miriam, and there is no help for it,--and he did last summer--when we wanted men; and in the hot haying-time, he used to work, I know, beyond his strength,--and aunt Lucy and I did not know what to do with ourselves!--"
Fleda's head which had been raised sunk again and more heavily.
"Where was his father?" said Mrs. Plumfield.