"I've had such a delicious day, dear grandpa,"--said little Fleda as they sat at supper;--"you can't think how kind Mr. Carleton has been."
"Has he?--Well dear--I'm glad on't,--he seems a very nice young man."
"He's a smart-lookin' feller," said Cynthy, who was pouring out the tea.
"And we have got the greatest quantity of nuts!" Fleda went on,--"enough for all winter. Cynthy and I will have to make ever so many journeys to fetch 'em all; and they are splendid big ones. Don't you say anything to Mr. Didenhover, Cynthy."
"I don't desire to meddle with Mr. Didenhover unless I've got to," said Cynthy with an expression of considerable disgust. "You needn't give no charges to me."
"But you'll go with me, Cynthy?"
"I s'pose I'll have to," said Miss Gall dryly, after a short interval of sipping tea and helping herself to sweetmeats.
This lady had a pervading acidity of face and temper, but it was no more. To take her name as standing for a fair setting forth of her character would be highly injurious to a really respectable composition, which the world's neglect (there was no other imaginable cause) had soured a little.
Almost Fleda's first thought on coming home had been about Mr. Jolly. But she knew very well, without asking, that he had not been there; she would not touch the subject.
"I haven't had such a fine day of nutting in a great while, grandpa," she said again; "and you never saw such a good hand as Mr. Carleton is at whipping the trees."