"Is your uncle at home?"
"No," said Fleda, "he went away this morning on business, and we do not expect him home before night-fall. Do you want to see him?"
"No," said Seth very decidedly. "I wish he had staid in Michigan, or gone further west,--anywhere that Queechy'd never have heard of him."
"Why what has he done?" said Fleda, looking up half laughing and half amazed at her cousin. But his face was disagreeably dark, though she could not make out that the expression was one of displeasure. It did not encourage her to talk.
"Do you know a man in New York of the name of Thorn?" he said after standing still a minute or two.
"I know two men of that name," said Fleda, colouring and wondering.
"Is either on 'em a friend of your'n?"
"No."
"He ain't?" said Mr. Plumfield, giving the forestick on the fire an energetic kick which Fleda could not help thinking was mentally aimed at the said New Yorker.
"No certainly. What makes you ask?"