"No," said Fleda gravely,--"I don't think it is."
"What then?" said Mr. Carleton, stopping as he was about to spring into the tree, and looking at her with a face of comical amusement.
"It isn't what our men live on," said Fleda, demurely eying the fallen nuts, with a head full of business.
They set both to work again with renewed energy, and rested not till the treasures of the trees had been all brought to the ground, and as large a portion of them as could be coaxed and shaken into Fleda's basket had been cleared from the hulls and bestowed there. But there remained a vast quantity. These with a good deal of labour Mr. Carleton and Fleda gathered into a large heap in rather a sheltered place by the side of a rock, and took what measures they might to conceal them. This was entirely at Fleda's instance.
"You and your maid Cynthia will have to make a good many journeys, Miss Fleda, to get all these home, unless you can muster a larger basket."
"O that's nothing," said Fleda. "It will be all fun. I don't care how many times we have to come. You are very good, Mr. Carleton."
"Do you think so?" said he. "I wish I did. I wish you would make your wand rest on me, Fairy."
"My wand?" said Fleda.
"Yes--you know your grandfather says you are a fairy and carry a wand. What does he say that for, Miss Fleda?"
Fleda said she supposed it was because he loved her so much; but the rosy smile with which she said it would have let her hearer, if he had needed enlightening, far more into the secret than she was herself. And if the simplicity in her face had not been equal to the wit, Mr. Carleton would never have ventured the look of admiration he bestowed on her. He knew it was safe. Approbation she saw, and it made her smile the rosier; but the admiration was a step beyond her; Fleda could make nothing of it.