"I hope we shall both prove ourselves good workmen, sir," said the young minister, shaking the doctor's hand heartily.
"This is Dr. Quackenboss, Mr. Olmney," said Fleda, making a tremendous effort. But though she could see corresponding indications about her companion's eyes and mouth, she admired the kindness and self-command with which he listened to the doctor's civilities and answered them; expressing his grateful sense of the favours received not only from him but from others.
"O--a little to begin with," said the doctor, looking round upon the room, which would certainly have furnished that for fifty people;--"I hope we ain't done yet by considerable--But here is Miss Ringgan, Mr.--a--Ummin, that has brought you some of the fruits of her own garden, with her own fair hands--a basket of fine strawberries--which I am sure--a--will make you forget everything else!"
Mr. Olmney had the good-breeding not to look at Fleda, as he answered, "I am sure the spirit of kindness was the same in all, Dr. Quackenboss, and I trust not to forget that readily."
Others now came up; and Mr. Olmney was walked off to be "made acquainted" with all or with all the chief of his parishioners then and there assembled. Fleda watched him going about, shaking hands, talking and smiling, in all directions, with about as much freedom of locomotion as a fly in a spider's web; till at Mrs. Evelyn's approach the others fell off a little, and taking him by the arm she rescued him.
"My dear Mr. Olmney!" she whispered, with an intensely amused face,--"I shall have a vision of you every day for a month to come, sitting down to dinner with a rueful face to a whortleberry pie; for there are so many of them your conscience will not let you have anything else cooked--you cannot manage more than one a day."
"Pies!" said the young gentleman, as Mrs. Evelyn left talking to indulge her feelings in ecstatic quiet laughing,--"I have a horror of pies!"
"Yes, yes," said Mrs. Evelyn nodding her head delightedly as she drew him towards the pantry,--"I know!--Come and see what is in store for you. You are to do penance for a month to come with tin pans of blackberry jam fringed with pie-crust--no, they can't be blackberries, they must be raspberries--the blackberries are not ripe yet. And you may sup upon cake and custards--unless you give the custards for the little pig out there--he will want something."
"A pig!--" said Mr. Olmney in a maze; Mrs. Evelyn again giving out in distress. "A pig?" said Mr. Olmney.
"Yes--a pig--a very little one," said Mrs. Evelyn convulsively. "I am sure he is hungry now!--"